O Baby Doll,
ooze
your richness,
your tender self
on me,
spread your
delicious wealth,
call me
your
Sweet Honey.

I always have dreams,
these spectacular visions
of mile high sand dunes,
skies blanketed with
millions of twinkling stars,
caravans disappearing
into the darkness
of the deepest pitch,
and me.
Me riding atop
the lead animal
searching,
finding my way back,
back to the
most beautiful woman
in all of creation.
You.

I was headed to Baltimore
& now it's D.C.
***,
this diversion,
the last place I wanted to be.

Jake McIntyre* was insane,
a midwest oil rigger by trade,
he had joined the army
for the college fund.
Once at noon,
we got ripped on Strawberry Boone's Farm
and he puked all over
the glass window
of a well-known
downtown
eating establishment
during the lunch hour.
I was thinking,
what the hell was he doing,
then he fell to his knees
and licked it all up,
smeared it all over the place.
You should have seen
the faces of the patrons!
To tell you the truth,
I'm not sure if college
could ever help somebody that sick,
but at least he tried.

I want some of your candy.
Let me **** on your mint,
twirl you around in my mouth a bit,
inhale your invigorating flavor
& swallow your swill.
Give it to me girl.

I hear them everywhere,
lone dogs
howling,
barking,
echoing
in the empty streets.
Listen.

Another cycle is
nearing its end.
I am beginning
to get nervous
looking at my list
of new resolutions.
They look the same
as last years commitments.
Can I do these things
for another cycle,
do I even have a choice?
Guess so, I've got to start
somewhere......

So if you lay
on your tummy
& I drag
my tongue
slowly along
the entire length
of your pretty backbone
would you be impressed,
or fall in love,
lying.

Are things really that bad,
can we really not face another day,
count our lucky days,
be full of thankfullness!?

I mean it's not like
we're landing on
the beaches of Normandy
this morning,
hopping a freight to Auschwitz
to shower,
dressing warm to hunker down
at the Bulge,
gearing up for
a hike in Bataan
or stripping down
to catch some
bright rays at Hiroshima.

You see,
things could be
a helluva lot worse,
let's be grateful for living!

He was hideous,
ugly as hell,
& a little bit slow!

But can you blame him?

Once bitten,
he couldn't help himself,
he was smitten!

And it cost him his life!

O baby
sweet darling,
you have
the serious magic touch,
right in your
own fiery-fingertips.
I love them so much,
what they do to me.
They set me on fire.

O the hot-words
you display
& the way you configure
their sensuous meanings.
Let's just say,
they make me
want to play,
sweetly
& get down
with you,
madly.

And if you only knew (me),
you'd see how I move
to your lovely verse & rhyme.
From a million miles away,
I throb to your own heart beat
& it sends ripples down my spine,
quite succinctly
so fine.

Can you feel it?
Can you feel?
Don't stop sugar.

I move my fingers
up
&
down
they scribe,
pen pieces of my heart.

Can you feel them
moving in circles,
creating these
heartfelt lines,
can you ******* soul,
can you.

There was something about her.
Maybe it was the way she moved,
the way she batted her pretty-eyes,
sashayed her nice-thighs around,
the softness of her sweet voice.

So alluring,
almost supernatural.
Her hair flowed all around,
had a satin sheen in the sun,
she was ample in her flowery blouse,
fragrance of patchouli,
a hint of ylang ylang
followed her.

Whatever it was
was truly special.
I call it magical.
It felt like I was under a spell
when I was near her-
a "Can't-think-straight" spell,
the kind that captures you
with enchantment,
so charming.

Calculated risk,
the big trick is to know when to
hold 'em or fold 'em

The smell of sulphur follows me,
traces of it lingers in my hair
& people stare at me
as if I'm the devil
& despite their curiosity,
they can look all they want,
I could care less.

Narrow streets confuse
gunpowder and mint infuse
senses to the muse

Some called her a *****,
but she was so much more
than that shallow moniker.

I called her
an over-active
lover of desire
& who has never
wanted something
they love.

I will break this,
this yearning,
waiting
for something beautiful
to fall from the sky,
heavier than a meteorite,
before it breaks me....
but it's so hard to get away
from gazing upward
toward Heaven.

O why
be so sad,
so downtrodden,
feel so depressed,
like you've fallen?

It could definitely be a lot worse,
the hearse could be heading your way,
I hope not......well......

Certainly I do confess, things aren't perfect,
but who said they would be?
Like, we've got the world by the *****,
we need to take it by storm,
shut this computer down,
bundle up,
go outside to play,
take a hike,
count our lucky stars.

Let's do it tonight!

You might just
catch the Borealis
as a bonus.

That should make you happy!

She clawed
the hell out of my back
and her breath
smelled like a tiger,
but it didn't matter,
because she purred
like a kitten
lying next to me.

Swift
like raging waters,
elusive
like shadows,
majestic
like a king,
my tiger chi.

The ages tell no lies,
those conjurors swirling
deadly rumors
& brewing evil-karma
have their own rewards.

Some call it sorcery,
the diabolical-spells
boiling forth troubles,
bringing recompense
to the unholy,
who deserve
a helping hand
from Hell itself.

And yet,
truth has seen
the coming of days,
dispelled the myths,
looked
into the dormant
cauldrons of many,
lying
frozen in ice,
under the twinkling
skies of Heaven.

Whoever invented laser pointers
did a brilliant thing.
But whoever developed them
into gunsights
should be brought
up on charges.
The same goes for
all them ******* companies
that have made a business
out of killing
using brilliant inventions.
That's diabolical.
People are ******* dying
so they can make a buck
& eat caviar
at stockholder conventions.

My cell battery's dying
& the connection is slow.
I'll be lost for awhile without you,
recharging.
Au revoir.....
lover.

Winter chills the bones
Spiced satisfaction warms blood
Ancient brew the trick

Sometimes her eyes looked gray,
other times a crystal green,
but mostly they looked
the deepest blue.

It really didn't matter to me
what color they were,
I wasn't after her eyes,
I wanted her
changing-mind.

She was fine.

It was late in the day
one summer,
I was jamming on I-40
descending the Blue Ridge
when she pulled up
alongside me.

Her radio was blaring country,
she was sporting
Georgia plates
& shot me a
beautiful Southern-smile,
then she bolted
like lightning,
probably reached
over a hundred-miles-an-hour
in that cherry red Mustang
of hers.
I mean she was smoking,
her hair was flying,
& never gave me time
to ask her for anything,
not for a date or
even if she
wanted to play.

The streets were not as mean as history
said they would be,
especially after a night out
at the bier haus,
where we filled our grosse steins
with litres of hops
& barley
& natural carbonation.
It really wasn't a nation full of crazies,
but rather
one full of serious frunken fun
& frolicking amoungst the bauchnabels
with liebe.

I get it now.
A pawn
rooked by a queen.

It's lovely
at that time of the morning,
there's no one in sight.
You witness granite
steps disappear upward
into the Mountain Laurel,
hear the Goldfinches echo
in harmony
with the brook,
smell the evergreens.
And as you venture up,
venture up into the cloud,
you touch the spirit world,
hear the Cherokee cries.

Not so idyllic
O, I remember oh so well
Needle pulling thread

Dual rotors spinning
Sitting ducks fly in mid-air
God, please speed this up

Loneliness is not a disease,
it's a choice,
a gruelling way of sad life.

How hungry
our insatiable hearts,
forever filling our love cups
to the brim,
only to chug it down
to feel the warm streams,
the thrills
running down
from the corners
of our mouths,
lapping,
tonguing
to catch
every single drop
we spill.
So delicious.
I want more...

Cicada sounds crush me,
they take me back,
catapulting me
to those simpler times.
Hanging out down at the lake,
corn dogs & pulled pork,
summer watermelon.
Jeff & Jenny sure did their thing,
that Camero
was a starship,
& what a trip
sneaking into
the drive-in.
Marlboro lights ruled
our nights.
When we got older,
Miller Time took Becky.
That ******* drunk driver.
Her mom lost her son & hubby
the very next year.
She's a survivor.
When football star Jessie
got smoked in Iraq,
a piece of our hometown
really did die
& it ain't never coming back.
I heard they closed Shorty's last week,
that tweaked me just a bit,
best vanilla shakes in town,
******.
Here come the cicadas again.

There are certainly times
when I long for real danger,
to be with my buddies
out on a night patrol.
Those homies were real,
more authentic than
my acquaintances around here.
Over there, I knew where I stood
& what my role was.
People's lives counted on me
& I knew they had
my back covered.
One **** up out on a foray
& we were all dead.
But out here in the civilian world,
you can **** up all you want
& live to talk about it.
I knew four real ****-ups
in the army
& they're all dead.
Cigarettes & head shots don't mix.

Spiraling upward
Hypnotic like a cobra
It's toxic venom

You lie to yourself
when you lie to me constantly
Lies beget liars

I am not an expert
on anything,
especially prose.
I write in free flow,
my rows are all uneven,
it's the way my mind thinks,
how my tongue gets twisted,
clamouring & stammering
to find the right words,
to set my record straight.
Like I said,
I am not an expert on anything,
I just try to spell it like it is.

Breath in breath out now
Down dog has got hold of me
Clarity of mind

All of us treated them like lovers,
meticulously disassembling
them as if hypnotized,
caressing each part
with special lubricant
& laying out the pieces
like a rock collector.

We'd take our
own sweet time
reassembling them,
part by part,
snapping & sliding,
building
our killing machines
to completion.

Then to test our work,
we'd **** and release
and squeeze,
to hear the distinctive
click of a dry fire.

Some might say Vlad
was totally misunderstood
& I'm not sure why,
he impaled tens of thousands,
even roasted whole children.
How cow,
now if that's
not a pretty clear picture,
then I don't know what is.

The sky is actually black not blue.
When you see the curvature
above the alpine,
you will know,
you will know the void of space
& this tiny place
we occupy.

At sea level once,
I placed myself on a pedastal,
but the nosebleed was a river,
a torrent greater than
one found
in the jetstream
& now I stick to the ground,
keep my feet plastered
firmly on the ridgeline
& stare up
into heaven
graciously.

Splishy-splash sounds
echoed with such
beautiful sighs
& with our eyes closed,
the full-orbs tapped,
smacked against the folds,
sending signals
to your fiery-*****,
I love so much.

I felt the trembling,
held the hanging fruit
& the Earth moved below.

The sacred-exchange
of the primordial flow
between us
created our
own personal heaven
& we collapsed,
emptied,
exhausted,
clinging
to each other
& smiling.

I wonder if it's really true,
this metallic thing,
I'm going to exercise?

Some think about it
more than others,
their minds
absorbed by forbidden fruit,
hungry,
ravenous,
whetting their appetites
day & night,
fighting sweet urges,
lost in their
imaginations,
those close encounters of
the sensual kind
that everybody thinks about
(some more than others).

I broke my clover
when I was five
& things
have been
downhill
ever since.

But still I keep
the three leaves,
what's left,
in my front pocket.

It's hope,
just in case
my luck changes.

I've made love
to her
a million times
since the breakup.
It's endless.
But she didn't want
me
& I'm really okay with that.
I had given her all the signs,
every piece and part of me,
including my swollen heart.
I just wish
she wasn't
so clueless.

She asked me
why her ex
was acting melancholy
& quiet.

So, I looked at her,
thinking she's got to be kidding
& said, "Maybe you broke his heart."

And she didn't say a word,
just gave me
a confused smile
& giggled sheepishly.

Geez.