If I had a dollar for every poem I ever wrote,
I wouldn’t even have a grand.
How on Earth would I pay the monthly rent,
buy our food,
survive
darling?

I guess a goat & a yurt
doesn’t sound so bad after all.
We could start a garden,
grow some tomatoes & drink
fresh unpasteurized raw milk,
We could even make soap.
Fixin’ a hole in the ceiling would
just take a needle and thread.
What a simple life we’d lead,
we could actually talk to each other.

And in the winter,
we could spoon,
snuggle underneath
a real buffalo rug.
It would be groovy.
You could tug on my ear lobe
with your pretty teeth
& whisper how much
you loved me.

It’s been a weird day today,
the noon appointment
lasted nearly four hours,
I don’t even remember the return trip.

Ever since I got back to the office,
there’s a constant ringing
in my head,
people seem to be moving
in slow motion,
their eyes look buggy,
I don’t feel right.

And when did I get a
triangular tattoo on my temple?
This is really getting weird,
I’ve heard about such things,
I need to report a possible abduction.

Yesterday
I found
an old water-damaged,
hand-calligraphied,
framed prayer
in a second hand shop.
I stopped
dead in my tracks
when I saw it.
It immediately
took me back
to my younger days,
when Dad would read me Poe.

And now it hangs
over my cabin-bed
& brings me
some measure of comfort.

"From ghoulies and ghosties,
and long-leggetied beasties,
and things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord deliver us"

There I was,
a prisoner
abandoned
& left standing
for my crimes.

I was mesmerized by
yet another rising sun,
with nowhere to run.
Red dust coated my boots,
oxygen was scarce
& I knew the mother
was not coming back.

She is blazing hot,
fire smolders
deep within her soul,
from her fingertips,
she shoots pixie-dust.

She can take you down
with just one squeeze,
her lips will kiss you madly,
hips will rock you
into submission,
make you succumb
to her fiery-will.

And once
she takes you down,
you will never be the same,
your dreams are disrupted,
your heartbeat is irregular,
her fragrance will forever
permeate your body,
as you become a prisoner
to her element.

I floated down
the rocky ridge
zephyr-like
in a trance.

Nearly touching the stars,
I counted llamas
scavenging
the maize slopes.
It was pure solitude
there,
above the navel
of planet Earth.

Scooting on
alone,
I listened
to my breaths,
felt each beat
of my pumping-heart
& forgot about
life for a moment
back in the world.

O Lovely Babe,
I've kissed
your precious lips
& grabbed
your gorgeous hips
a million times
in the dark,
here all alone.

O my Darling Angel,
you must know,
this sensuous make-believe
is getting harder
than my soft
rumbled sheets.

So Sweet Pea,
my Pretty Dandelion,
do you remember
the telephone?

O do call me Sugar....
read my pleas
& hurry please,
I grow weak in the knees
for you...
waiting.

I want to fill you up,
take all
of your available inches,
feel you squirm,
turning this way & that,
slide
rapidly around
to create
those spine-tingling sensations,
to hear
your primordial sounds,
then shoot you
full of mystery,
the sacred
mystery of love.

Every now and then,
I get that feeling
like I’m hanging out
in Winslow.
When I get peaceful,
there’s a smile running across
my face as wide as the Grand Canyon.
A real woman will to do that to you
you know.
That’s genuine joy…..for real.

I want to get drunk,
fall down ripped,
get ******,
float into oblivion
to see,
to see if
the stories are true,
if Elvis still exists,
or if such tales
are just an urban myth,
meant to keep a dream alive.

Driving,
Petty on the radio.
A refugee,
I am,
not living.

O the words you pen,
so intoxicating
the selections you make
& the contrived patterns
you write
are certainly
meant to stimulate,
to peak the very senses!

O pray tell
my sweet lady poet,
you my dear friend,
is it possible to fall
without pheromones,
not for the ones on paper,
but for the genetic ones
created in the heavens above!?

Is all of this
intimate-diatribe
just a fantasy?

He hears their  chuckling
every now and then
above the alpine,
in a place where
none of them truly belonged.
But the sacred saw them worthy,
giving them borrowed time
to etch their memories
on the stone age frost.

Fear gave them such
sweet inspiration,
those precious moments
to leave their speedy footprints
in the endless drifts,
filling crevasses,
that disappeared
forever
in the freezing gales.

They have all dispersed
to different parts of the globe,
each one knowing
the beauty of the mountain,
in its raw form
& never forgetting
their laughter
they once had
on the lip of her ice
kissing pain.
Amen.

Those dudes hung out under the streetlight on Fridays and Saturdays.
Between the four of them,
there were twenty-one tattoos,
ranging from Celtic tribal
to devils & one broken heart.
They'd trade stories
about love & hate,
cheap dates &
high maintenance girls.
Every now and then,
one would get lucky & fall in love.
But they always came back.
I've never been sure
if they were major ****-ups
or just sentimental,
missed the group.

I heard it in
the rustling
of the dead leaves
swirling below
my tired feet.

Today is the day
I look west,
to watch
the moon rise
over a dying sun.

Supercharged,
I feel your fingertips,
so electrical.
Rampantly we travel
to unknown galaxies,
where stars hear our dreams.

I see your face in the void,
taste your meteorite-blood
as it floods my soul.

Your eyes reflect Vega-system,
which I love, immersing
myself in your Heavenly
body above me,
I spiral inside you.

I cannot inhale your pheromones,
are we real here,
in these living cosmos?

Are we stupid or what?
Who needs education
when these governments
do all of our thinking for us!

We need to dismantle
the whole apparatus,
piece by piece,
cryptically of course.

We don't want to
disturb big brother,
do we geniuses!?

It was kind of crazy,
Army guys listening
to Nena & her red luft balloons,
Kim Wilde’s American Kids,
a bit of Madonna Lucky Star and
Lauper’s girls just wanting to have some fun.
Man o’ man,
we danced our drunk ***** off
with all them pretty little lasses.
And like we gave a flying ****,
for in a moment’s notice,
we might have been
Airborne,
hoooooaaaaah.

Clairvoyance is in
the minds of the beholders,
if they be true,
those yearning hearts,
stars trickle
a romance
electric.

Cliche is the word about opinions
& everyone knows
what I'm talking about.
If we didn't have one,
then we'd all be full of more
of usually what most opinions are.

I feel like Van Gogh,
swirling starry skies
fill my eyes
with visions
of the streets of Paris
& realistic sunflowers.
It brings me great power
& makes me wonder how Picasso felt
when he drew geometric figures,
people with pronounced features.
Strange, how I never saw one
missing an ear....
I felt one though,
just ask Vincent.

We made a masterpiece that day
& the lighting was just perfect.
My warm droplets glistened
off your precious porcelain skin
& the shade of pink reflected
off your excitement,
made my heart race faster.
I could see your open-flower
beneath your white lace,
and I could tell
by the satiated look
on your cute face,
you loved being splashed
by my art.

I love her grip
when she's not here.
It is as strong
as mine,
excruciating.

I lie
in fields of bamboo
shooting up around me.
My steel is tempered,
so hot for you,
it rises majestically.
My heart sizzles
with the heat
of dragon fire.
You inspire
my every move.
And under a crescent moon,
Heaven sent you to me
to croon over,
to spill my warm milk.

I would lick the ground
you walk on,
would never want to miss
a single drop
of our commingling.
So sacred,
this blend,
I kiss your lips with.

You know what that does to me,
when you hold yourself like that.
I know the wind tickles your fancies,
so you expose yourself,
bare chested to me
for maximum effect.

And you certainly get it from me.
The sight of solid perfection
& pulling sticky strings
from them with my plum
is as close to nirvana
as we're ever gonna get.

O here comes a strong breeze....
O darling please,
you're killing me.

It's hard to maintain composure
when you call me like that.
All curled up naked
under the covers,
whispering hot things
in my ears,
breathing heavy,
talking rather lewd,
telling me the saucy-things
you want to do to me
& the sensual-things
you want done to you.

All my blood rushed to my head
& my voice got real low.
My workmates
were circling around
me trying to listen,
figure out who my
secret caller was.
I knew inside my drawers,
I was glistening,
could feel a warm flood coming.

The ****-sounds you made
made it so hard
you sweet girl,
knocking me off my feet,
while standing
up straight
at the job site
dripping.

We just woke up
near a river in Winnipeg.
I swear
she's following me in my dreams,
she knows I'm a sinner.

We locked ourselves
in suspended animation,
me on top,
strictly missionary,
kissing her like no tomorrow,
fully engaged in her **** spirit.

She is definitely God's creation,
his alignment of the planets
allowed us to circumvent
the natural order.

I attacked her from every angle,
the sound of her moistness
& our glorious movements
were louder than
the gurgling waters
outside our tent.

It seemed like hours,
but in a matter of minutes,
our dams burst
in an explosion
unrivaled in this hemisphere.

I have no fear of ghosts now,
her stunning apparition
can awaken me anytime
to break me, to feel
my warm waters flow.

Lord knows she's listening
from the stars above,
twinkling her magic
& receiving cascading
pleasure from me.

It's a beautiful circus affair,
them artists meeting
in the round square,
in Asheville down there.
Pixies & henchmen
spreading their wares
& so lively,
it seems magic
covers them
with true love,
coming down
from the mountain air.

I rolled into that city
sometime after midnight,
had been fighting
my peepers from closing
since sunset.

I wore shades to hide my eyes,
sixteen hours on the interstate
had made me feel like toast,
less than human,
a bit comatose
& I needed a room.

My pointed boots
accented my slim jeans
& I moved through
the lobby with ease,
as if I were a ghost.

I could feel the disease
in that place,
bars were in the windows
& hookers glanced
around nervously.
The concertina wire
should have been a clue.

And without a sound,
I slithered back
to my spaceship
& moved southward,
onward toward El Paso.

With one more to go,
I floored myself
into hyperspace,
had to get
out of that place
fast,
vroom vroom.

I think of my battle buddies
& the millions that lie dead
before them,
& I thank providence,
hoping for their forgiveness
& mine
on this remembrance day.

I am here
to visit with my animals,
pigeons & eagles,
jaguars & mantises,
crows & cranes,
lions & tigers,
cobras & frogs,
cats & dogs
are all
calling me
to work,
to sweat the
sacred-moves.

O how funny,
I did forget
the drunken monkey!

I'm moving as if in a trance now,
going through the motions,
smiling when I'm supposed too,
saying the right words,
and they really don't know me
inside,
I'm dying
slowly.

It was our age of discovery,
pretty,
succulent you,
lying on your back
& me tasting heavenly things,
your delicious,
raw
primordial honey,
so yummy.

But your mom
didn't think it was very funny,
that compromising position
she found us in.

She never looked at me
the same
ever again
after that,
it was as if
I were a sinner.

It's so easy for you,
so easy for you to switch off,
to shut the computer down
after a hard day's work.

It's so rough for me,
so rough for me to be tuned out,
to boot the computer up,
to see nothing there.

Not a single response.
Not a single comment.
Nothing.
Just your name
continuing to swirl,
perhaps captivating others,
breaking other hearts.

Acting as if you
haven't a care in this world,
And if my heart was as cold,
I wouldn't care either.

By the way,
I'm frozen love.
So don't you fret none,
as if you ever did.

Oh, I know, sure,
it's cyber, it ain't real.

Melancholy notes
strum in the back of my mind.
They croon for what could be,
this cool thing happening
with you and me.

And the distance between us
strokes every string of my heart,
& me,
a simple man,
wanting to release my wild horses,
cries against the wind.

A cut moon
graces the night sky
& I feel,
I feel I've lost
half of my love
& I cry,
I cry a single tear
from only one eye,
the right one.

Raindrops pelted the lush ferns
in a melody meant to soothe,
the babbling brook added
percussion to the crows overhead
as I crossed over the fallen log
& heard the bullfrogs
kissing wood spirits.

He was larger than life,
gregarious & humorous,
he loved the culinary arts
& never missed a meal.
Everything he ate,
was way over the top.
Incessantly,
he would gorge on
all the rich foods,
cram his mouth full
of cheeses and sauces.
Cheesecake and cookies
were his favorite companions.
What delicious comfort foods.
They helped balloon up.
He reached almost
a quarter of a ton.
So, it was no surprise
when his heart finally gave out.
What was shocking
was how he was reduced
to such a small amount
of funeral ash.

Gently,
ever-so gently,
I am covered by
your succulence,
sweet parted-lips
upon sweet parted-lips,
I eagerly search
your soft-folds
with such tenderness.

O what delight,
there is no fight,
but harmony!

A warm-moistness
engulfs,
surrounds
my rigidness,
consummating
our sensuous-act,
this sacred-gift,
a smothering of Heaven.

I remember my nest
above the clouds,
it was cold
& ******* lonely.

And if I could have,
I would have stripped,
forgotten my duty,
and floated to the stars.

I loved her
from the first moment I met her.
So sleek she was,
manufactured to perfection,
I cradled her in my arms,
invigorating me
she did.
I fingered her trigger
& she reacted violently,
spewing lead
rapidly
from my hidden place,
her suppressor-face was hot,
molten,
effective.

I heard a Song of Kashmir
& for once,
I understood passion,
the yearning of the heart.

Dem white egrets
sure are skittish,
dey fly wildly
away.
But nawt
dem blue herons,
dey gawt bigger *****,
stay fisin' right dare
along da shoreline.
You should hear
dem gulls
laughin' at
all of dem,
and dat risin' sun.

I enjoyed the work I did,
'cause those bearded-guys
were some serious *******,
constructing high explosives
& placing them near roadsides,
then detonating them
for maximum carnage,
to spill some serious blood.

Oh how I loved working at night,
especially those overcast nights
where I drew beads
with nightvision
& did some exploding of my own,
busted a lot of skulls.

Ya see, I could be a serious *******,
too.
And I was serious,
as serious as cancer.
I was the consummate
silent killer,
so effective,
they called me
"Mister Pathogen **"
& death I did spread.

Single rounds crack
in foreign valleys,
hitting their mark,
it's stark reality,
a secret,
still going on,
far far away.

I guzzled liquid courage
a lot
& found out it wasn't real
'till I felt
the concussion of a grenade
and heard the whizzing of small arms fire
above my head
& medevacs.

There is an eerie silence now,
the leaves remain steadfast
in place
with no breeze.
And when I think about those
wonderful moments
you let me
squeeze you
I can only say,
thank you,
and view
the pretty treetops
glistening in
the winter beams.
I miss you
a lot
sunshine.

It's strange,
I mean like really weird
to see kids chewing Juicy Fruit,
eating Hershey bars
with nuts,
and smoking Camels.
Some are even handling
guns,
automatic weapons
held together with duct tape.

I knew something was strange,
that it was going to be a weird day
when I saw the jellyfish
floating in clear blue skies,
Yoda sitting sideways
on my white picket fence.

The post man with electric rat eyes
actually snickered
when I signed
for the manila envelope
covered in white powder.

I’m not really sure
why he acted so comedic,
maybe he thought
it was a biological weapon.
But for all he knew
it could have been
something Peruvian.

After all, there is a rumor going around
about the ruling government,
it’s been said they keep spraying LSD
using jet engine contrails,
that it’s something about mind control.
That’s very similar
to what the Beatles
did with Revolution #9.

And, if you don’t believe me friends,
just play it backwards on your turntable,
you’ll hear the mythological devils
singing gibberish on
a diamond-tipped stylus.

I told you it was
a strange & weird day.