I dream of you
lying in repose,
your delicious
raw perfume
permeates
the air,
no cares of
the temporal world
can be found here.

Surrounded
by burning candles,
we explore together
all the ancient mysteries
of the universe.

Whispers of
our desires,
subtle & forceful
commands
accentuates
our tender,
fiery moments.

The sacred-sounds
we make
& the curling of your toes
has taken me
to another plane
& for once,
I truly understand,
the meaning of pure love.

I used to wonder who,
who was that fellow
on the other end of the wire
pushing buttons
& finally
I realized,
we're no better than each other,
both killers,
so I stopped.

Once,
I lived next door
to bunnies.
They ate loads
of green leafy salads
& seemed addicted to
wheatgrass.

After dusk,
they'd thump
up against
my bedroom wall
at all hours
of the night.

And it was rather funny,
though I never
heard them fight,
they'd nibble
on each other
while hopping
after one another,
calling each other, "Honey."

O baby doll,
let's
experiment,
from our bellybuttons
around to our backs,
crawl in each other's mire.
We'll create an amazing-fire,
a fire that will burn,
burn for all eternity.

Shhhhh....don't make a sound,
I've found your treasure.

You can burn all the candles you want,
throw chicken bones all over the floor,
even consult the tarot,
but it doesn't matter,
the results will always
be the same.

I've got a spell on you
& it can't be broken
unless you know
the magic words.

Feeling rather melancholy,
I walked a country mile yesterday.
Ants followed me stride for stride,
there was a rattlesnake hidden
off to the side, buzzing his fair warning.
Up ahead, rabbits frolicked on the path
with the meadowlarks calling.
A gentle rain fell on the ground
all around me with the sound of
distant thunder,
I cried,
surrounded by the bucolic,
a soft-breeze tussled my hair
& no longer sad.

The most complex thing
in the entire dictionary
is the letter "u".
When you
figure yourself out,
please let me know,
I wanna know "u" too.

I am in love with angst,
am attracted to rebelliousness.
Hand signs are ******* fine
& genuice Docs are the way to go.
Purple glitter & spikes,
colorful sleeves & loud-piped bikes
are for me,
You see clearly now,
I'm a punk &
I wanna make
a statement,
"Kiss my ***",
because you can.

I want to be a hippie,
join a small commune,
set up my camp
way out in the woods,
near the back forty
& the railroad tracks.

I want to swim naked
with them pretty chicks,
braid natty dreads,
go tubing on the river,
make beeswax candles
& tie dyes.

I want weave dream catchers,
paint glitter on Venetian beads,
sing happy songs,
create new stars,
eat whole wheat bread
& make Tabouili salads.

I wanna dance,
circle the blazing fire,
shout out at the moon,
splash myself in patchouli,
smell ****-smoke in the air
& indulge in tantric things.

I don’t wanna
hurt anybody,
break any laws,
just wanna spread love,
blow kisses to butterflies,
ride double-rainbows
on magic carpets
& be a hippie.

I'm going to punch that ******* out,
for his well-constructed dribble,
for giving me
this perpetual
maddening-inspiration.

O sweet Jesus,
what about loving your neighbor,
surely you jest comrade?

But I do confess,
every time I want to let it go,
the ******* reels me back in
to this solitary place,
this place
to tell a story,
to spill my guts,
to let my heart
all hang out
& bleed,
bleed stardust
kisses
& ******* puppy dog tails.

I want a piece of Jack.

I had finally decided
I was going to start smoking tomorrow,
it seemed like a good time to start something new.
I did my research and I knew
I was going to go *******,
I was going to become a Marlboro Man.
Yeah baby, I was going to
go for the gusto, eat the whole enchilada.
That's just my style,
never half-throttle,
always 110%.


So I was chilling out
getting ready for tthe big day,
had flipped on the tube and
wouldn't you know it,
the first thing I watch
is a ****** commercial
of a guy taking a shower
covering
a hole in his neck.

Like, how's a guy supposed
to wash his hair
with a hole in his neck?

That's why I hate TV,
especially the commercials.
I was really looking forward
to becoming a smoker.
Now, there's no way in hell
I'm gonna do it,
I gotta keep my hair clean!

So unique,
such a special doll you were.
Your sweet fragrance clung to me
like ivy,
found all my nooks & crannies.
I never wanted to wash you off,
I wanted to crumble
under the tiny clinging feet of your vine,
hanging onto me in earnest,
in love with my rock-like physique.

I want to feel her,
be held tightly
by her grip.

My corned beef tasted like
Chateaubriand today
and the sun wasn't yellow,
it was golden
& I am not myself,
these feelings.
Oh these ******* feelings.
Nothing is the same
since I met you,
I want more.

The hands of Father Time
seem relentless, he waits
for none of us.

With the coming of each season,
the millions of reasons to live
fade a little more, yet we
continue to fuss,
make excuses
to wallow in the mire.

It quenches our fire,
makes our souls more restless,
prone to wanderlust
& frustration,
a form of mental castration.

I want my ***** back
before I die lonely!

I want to reach out
and touch the stars,
for they possess
the endless-twinkle,
and I want mine back.

I want to write
about my heart
& tell others how you
make it feel,
so alive & real.

I want to be
with you,
carry you deep inside
my own flesh & blood,
in the Cummings style.

I want to howl
at the moon,
bark & play,
make out with
the ***** next store,
lick my *****
& ****
on the mean-neighbor's
front door.
I want to be free,
I want to be a dog.

I want to be an astronaut,
feel the pulsations of liftoff,
experience the orbiting of crystal seas
taste the rising sun
& the rush of reentry
for eternity.

He gets all the pretty babes,
owns all the cool gadgets.
Some say he's a magician,
but I say he's much
more than that.

He's very slick,
so in tune with his spy-side,
he can easily handle
Paris traffic at rush hour,
knows all about
diabolical-power
& how to stop it.

His smooth-ride cruises fast
in turbo overdrive,
buzzes down the road
like a well-tuned beehive.
All the cool tunes play
along with him &
he likes his things
shaken not stirred.
Roulette, no trouble,
he'll burst the bank bubble.
O that sweet little
cherry-blued PPK!
Hey now, pow pow,
he knows the endgame,
how to kick some
cloak-and-dagger ***
up & down the street.

That's why,
I want to be James Bond,
knock the ladies & the thugs
right off their feet!

Pen me
your sweet conviction,
scribe me clear
& perfect **** diction,
write me succulent words
that spread your
lustful infection.

O Dear Lady,
I want to digest
your pheromones,
drink your pure
raw-essence,
carry
your poetic-disease
with me,
all the way
to nirvana.

I would love to discover you from all angles,
as I am sure there are many pathways
to a heart
as beautiful as yours.

I remember the words so well,
they were drilled
deep,
deep into
my robotic-head,
one shot,
one **** &
make it count.
And I wished now,
I'd forgotten them.

(A Poem for Mary and Johnny Craig)

Johnny
shuddered through
the rubble of hell itself.
Clinging to his bright star,
he never lost his heart’s desire.
The ravages of battle,
mortar rounds
nor liberated skeletons
could keep him
from his fate,
his sacred-date
with his one true love
Mary.

So now my Darling Angel,
I will write of joy.
No more bloodlust,
no more
spilled guts,
no more
broken hearts
& anquish.
I will write of calm seas
& the moonbeams
reflecting off
your haunting
dark eyes.
The very thought of you
brings me
into submission,
into the spilling
forth
of these
love-seed words.
And I hope,
I do so fervently hope,
I impregnate you
with my happiness.

She's dark, yet
moonlight glows
inside her soft-eyes
& despite her
tragic-aura,
I still want
her blackness,
to taste her magic,
to kiss
the devil inside her.

How can one think straight,
not feel anything,
when their heart's
constantly on fire,
tuning into
the beautiful-transmissions
& passionate-wavelengths,
listening to the other
fervent hearts
riding the same highway
in cyberspace?

Pray tell me
my fellow sojourners,
I want to know your feelings!

Emptiness gathers
inside your soul
& your loneliness
spews it out in prose.

Stories of broken roses,
curled toes
& boy
what a time it was
once.

I want to lick a spine,
spill some wine
& feel genuine
love again.

I want to live forever
& it doesn't matter
if it's a curse or not.

I don't really care
if I become possessed,
have to join the ranks
of the undead,
or have a craving
to drink endless
pints of blood.

And who cares
if I have
to make my abode
in a dark dank place
or if pieces of my face
fall off?
I don't.

And if my skin
turns pasty white or
my teeth grow
long & pointed,
what matter?

Who's going to see me
so late at night
anyway!?

And besides,
life is definitely
worth living,
or dead,
or even ugly!

I want to split you in two,
tickle your cherry stem
& sprinkle you with sugar drops.

I've thought about marshmallow,
some vanilla cream
on top of your lemon tarts
& rolling my tongue
to spread it.

Honey dripped onto your flower
would be tastier than flaked-baklava,
a little whipped cream
& nuts would certainly
finish you off.

But I do dream of stuffing your pastry
with my creme-filled cannoli.
That would be the ultimate dessert,
don't you think sweet lady?

Today I will write,
I will write
about the rising sun,
and the way it reflects
off the daffodils
and makes the birds chirp up.
I'll write about all the beautiful things,
all the beautiful things in the world
that the media misses.

I remember once
down in Mexico,
I kissed Lydie on top of her head
and walked into the mist
toward the morning star.
I still think about the fun
we had that short summer.
It was sensational,
better than any news story
reporting bleakness.

Those are the things to remember.
And let us not forget
how short
our time really is,
lest we succumb to cynicism,
such cold-heartedness.

No more jaded thoughts for me...
uh huh.

I want to slip
deep inside
your wonderful brain,
to unleash your creative mind
& stimulate your lobed-walls.

I want to create
a sweet friction
with your lovely cortex
& build a synapses
of unbelievable dimensions,
to flood your receptors
with my emitter,
flow my strong current
into your throbbing pulse,
again & again.

I want to trace your scars
with my fingertips,
hear every painful story
& learn how you healed.

I want to kiss every blemish
on your pretty skin,
listen to your wishes
& press myself closer.

I want to feel your heartbeat
against my chest,
taste your lips,
inhale your sweet fragrance,
& hold you like no tomorrow
which may never come.

I want to live with you
in the moment,
the here,
the now,
& make
a lasting impression
on you
with my whispers.

I want
you to
pick yourself up,
blossom &
raise your feet
toward Heaven.

I want
to taste your soul,
experience the Earth move
& shudder below us.

I want
to bask in your glow
& feel your loving heart.

You
were raised
on diesel fuel,
coal dust & corn liquor,
inhaled gnats by the ton.

I
want
you to spit in my mouth,
to taste your toxicology,
to absorb your proteins
& dirt.

I sat frozen
to ice age glacier
staring at the sunlight
glinting off my crampons.

At seven thousand meters,
the sky is black not blue,
you can't breathe,
it feels like you're
gonna have a heart attack.

Clouds swirled around me
like ghosts whispering
a cosmic-language
before disappearing
into the jet stream,
leaving you
in a dream-like state.

Some locals tried
to sell me a blunt
in the thin air
up there
& I refused.
I didn't need the ****,
I was already hallucinating.

I let my baby drive my car,
and yes,
I felt like a rock star,
drove throughout the night,
boy, those Beatles sure were right!

But she couldn't
keep her eyes on the road,
we plowed right into a ditch,
I was ejected before
it exploded into a ball of flame,
just like at the concerts.

Sadly,
she didn't make it,
she lies six feet
beneath the ground
& I write with my teeth,
without a sound
I fight endless tears.

I was a sixty gunner once.
Don't blame me.
It wasn't really my choice,
I had more muscle,
carried twenty-five pounds
(or more)
of belted ammo.
I loved tracer rounds
the best,
they would
light up the night
& you could stay on target
much easier,
especially during
those early-morning
L-shaped ambushes.
You had to
expend rounds quick
because it would not take long
until you became
the next target
during the attacks.
But I was lucky.
I made it back intact,
I survived
a shitload
of missions.
The number is still classified,
I think.

Every night,
before I hit the hay,
before I fall into a deep slumber
nestled in the warmth
of my big comfy bed,
I count my fingers and my toes,
and I have them all,
scarred,
but fully intact.

I guess
there's no such thing
as heroes anymore.
They are only legends
we think about.

I know this
to be true,
Just ask my digits
seeking release.

Good night.
Sweet dreams.

I have,
I love,
a sense of adventure
& I was,
I am,
doing
some deep thinking
& I own,
I ride,
a powerful horse.
I smell things
you cannot describe...
would like to say.
I can give you
what you want.
Tell me.

I felt like an experiment
with you
forever jabbing me
with sarcasm.
You with
your poisonous-words
observing my reactions,
turned up the heat
over & over,
increasing the pressure,
forever testing the limits
of my perseverance.

And when the time came
to read the results,
you realized your theory
was flawed & ******* yourself.

I never promised you
a million dollar home
with a Porsche
in the pavered driveway,
a huge closet full
of glittery Versace gowns
or cases of Dom Perignon.
I never said
I'd give you
three trips a year
to the Italian,
let alone the French Riviera.
Isn't one Prada handbag enough,
why do you have to have four?
I know I promised you
my loving heart,
which I tried to delivered.
But you whispered
when you left,
I wasn't good enough
to deliver
the goods you really wanted.
So long,
keep your Miss Dior,
*****.

O Sweet Baby,
lying there
with you sheets
all in a bunch,
clutching your pillow,
let yourself go.

O Darling,
envision me,
my loving-eyes
meeting yours
as you imagine
the sensual-acts
we liked
to do.

O Sugar,
I was once
your huckleberry,
your sweet loving man,
explode in my memory.

She ravished me,
over and over,
again and again,
she played the charade,
accepted my gifts,
giving me no quarter
with her own delicious wares.

And when the smoke cleared,
she had disappeared into thin air,
& it hit me,
I realized I was just another,
she really didn't care.

The notches on her posts
were too many to count,
it looked like I was the fresh one,
carved near the top,
******.

She followed my veins like a roadmap,
said I was the trip of her lifetime.
My arms began the journey
and the others
she said
were just paydirt,
her sweet dessert,
the beginning to the end
of her roadtrip.

I watched a million angels drown today.
Standing under fire and brimstone,
I saw them disappear,
shoot down in a cascade
into the hot steam,
never to return.

You think you're so bad.
Once, I stole the diamonds
off a rattlesnake's back
while he was coiled
buzzing me.
Now, I wear them
around my neck
with both of his fangs, too.
Top that tough guy!

In the dead silence
of my empty room,
I whisper your sweet name
in a frenzy
releasing a steady stream
of my imagination
in flowing words
across my chest.
The room smells primordial...

I've chugged bottles of the finest wine,
guzzled gallons of rotgut whiskey,
smoked bowlfuls of ethereal herbs,
& swallowed lots of strange pills
& I'm sorry if I hurt you,
it was never my intent.

I'm just hell bent on
******* things up,
it's always been my way,
but I will always love you
when you don't love me,
promise.

They are down by the seaside
making preparations
for my final departure.
Those brave souls,
brother & sister odists,
who understand such things,
are the true testaments of honor.
I see them piling
my grave offerings,
making their sacrifices.
For soon,
I will become
but a distant memory,
I will join the sacred gods,
those humble goddesses,
in the Heavens
& fall back a shooting star.
Remember me.