I think about her every night.
Certainly she was Heavensent.
She struck all of my nerves.
She gave me everything.
She let me steal her breaths,
she even let me taste us.
Then she told me to get bent,
more or less.
I must confess,
sometimes
I don't speak right.

Okay okay,
it's really not that gory,
sounds, sounds
kind of like splitting watermelons.

She grew up a misfit,
bounced from
house to house,
relative to relative,
she was tough.
She packed Marlboro's
in her rolled up sleeves,
cussed like a sailor
& dished out abuse
to her turnstile lovers.
But I could tell,
I could tell
it was all a facade
by the hidden smile
in her bloodshot eyes.
They got that way
by cryin'.

Darkness envelops me as usual,
alone this room,
I lie with silence,
it's pitch
& I'm beginning
to like it this way.

My thoughts
seem disjointed,
I hear you faintly,
your strong desire screams
her hot-demands,
begging me to succumb
but my heart,
cracked behind repair,
has already signed off
on your epitaph.

A stream of lonely tears
lands on my empty sheets,
crying here solo,
soaked in a sea of sadness.

In a matter of months,
Mike had turned squirrely.
Disheveled & *****,
he would pace around
as if he was being tracked by the NSA,
scratch the invisible insects off his arms,
pick at the sores on his dried lips.
His words came out gibberish,
he made no sense.

I remembered a time
not too long ago,
when he was coherent,
bright & articulate,
a spark burned in his eyes.

Now, he seemed
like a comatose
paranoid zombie,
mindless,
with rotting teeth.

Once it grabs you by the *****,
crystal works that quick,
the pipe-craving
hits you non-stop,
makes you sick.

Cubicles are the best places
to dream, to dream about us.
In this boring location,
you are totally encapsulated,
hidden away,
lost in a dreamy state
& when the boss is not around,
out enjoying their own life,
I envision romantic evenings
at chic restaurant locations,
forgetting about
the hustle & bustle
with you.
You sitting pretty
across from me,
wearing your
most seductive dress
& using your sweetest
demeanor on me,
to devour me with
fine steak and Merlot.

I love to spread
my plum sauce
on your
**** nectarines,
mix it up,
sift
& fold,
then taste
the hot-combination
of our zesty ingredients.

Such bold
raw-flavors
never grow old.
I am sold on the menu
& crave your appetite,
you are a connoisseur,
demure,
soft & pretty.

Me & you
never fight the menu,
our culinary arts
are exquisite
& delicious,
so scrumptious,
they're sacred,
obviously
made in Heaven.

Lying in repose,
you are gorgeous,
a beautiful sight to behold.
I long to place
tender
wet kisses
upon your nice
succulent-*******,
while all the while,
strumming your harp
with my delicate fingers
& curling your toes.

In the Fatherland,
I found timeless memory,
the purest love.
Her blond hair glowed,
cute-dimples laughed,
azure eyes danced.
We visited the cathedral,
camped in Speyer
along the Rhine.
I learned all
about Bauchnabels,
baited hooks,
drank Pilsner.
We fished lakes,
ate potato pancakes
cooked by her Mutter.
She bought me a switchblade,
then sent me a dear Jon letter.

Radiant smile
Fish hooks and flower kisses
Taught me bauchnabel

Sitting Buddha-like
Breath life's little miracle
Releases tension

You wore bandanas
like a ripened vigilante
& oh those darling bikinis
you wore
made Rio
look Mickey Mouse.

No words can ever describe
your baby blues,
I'll just say chilling.

And your swollen-buds
is what the romantics write about,
they use words like succulent.
delicious and tasty.

They were
very succulent,
delicious
and tasty.

We were the perfect fit,
I'm glad
you were honest,
but so sad to see you go.
******.

All the good times I've had
happened when
I was wearing a red bandana.
It didn't matter where I was at,
sleepy towns,
ice cream shops,
near rivers or
on even mountaintops,
if I had my handkerchief on,
things were gonna be a-okay.

Love is a beautiful thing,
it's more beautiful
when your sigother
wears her own red bandana,
all through the night,
you can dance on paisley-stars.

We used to jam out in the ***** tonks,
you & I sippin'whiskey,
listenin' to the guitars wail.
You were the finest doll out there
on the planked-floor,
hopping around like a crazed bunny.
O honey, you had 'em all staring,
their jaws droppin' with your cool groovy antics,
hollerin' for more.
You filled out your blue jeans sublimely
& the way your gorgeous hair
flew to the drummer's beat
was way beyond compare.
You were the epitome
of a Southern belle,
dancing your *** off
& breaking hearts.

I was in a dream state around her.
Her skin was made of porcelain,
jet black hair topped her crown
matching her feathered wings.
The face she wore was angelic,
cheeks like mountains,
the color of roses,
lips,
the smoothest
creamy-butter.
Her malachite eyes
glowed
as fine-crystal.
I felt certain
she was not
of this Earth.
Especially
after she
spoke
in an ancient tongue
& my heart felt
glued to hers.

Ice runs
through
her veins
& her black devil-eyes
will bring you death.
One look into her dark soul
& you will dissolve,
such an act
kills.

O Darling,
I don't ask for very much,
& there's really no need
for me to feel,
to feel the Earth move
under my feet or
to hear bells & whistles.

O Honey,
I don't have to have it all,
wish on falling stars or
watch you crawl
to get my attention.

'Cause Sweetheart,
I'm just a guy,
a simple guy,
who would love to feel,
to feel your gentle-touch,
yours loving arms
wrapped
around me,
holding me &
hugging me.
That's it doll!

You are my little firefly darling,
the spark
that lights
my heart.

I was told to never
whistle at night,
for it called
back to life
the dead ones
and they'd be ******
for the awakening.
So now,
I push tunes
through my lips
only in the daytime.
The last thing
I want to do
is make dead people angry.
I'm haunted enough
by the living.

In a sea of ghosts,
I sat unknown
on the Flushing Local
over to 42nd Street.
And as I stared
through smudged glass,
at landscapes of grafitti,
I realized I was dead.

I'm on East Coast time
& they the West
& I hear the music
& the laughter
& Ibsmell the beer
& I gotta get up
& help myself
to a cup
& kick this fatigue
in the ***.

So what
if things don't work out,
things get a little tough.
Do you think Pablo Picasso
had it easy,
Shakespeare never cussed
& what of Van Gogh,
was he not a troubled soul?
And I'm sure life was just
hunky dory for Gandhi,
grand for Tutu
& who knew
King would
be shot,
gunned down
for his color?
Like choice is
only a word?
We can choose to
wallow in the mire
or just deal
with the stupid ****,
get over it
& inspire.

I have no remorse,
but if I did,
it would be
the kind
felt between
the tectonic plates.
For I have no control
over shifts
in the great creation,
this place
we call home.

I want your dreams
& I desire to taste
the saline that fills
the riverbed
of your pretty spine.

For you,
you Dear Woman,
are the finest river
I have ever seen
& the contours
of your
beautiful countryside,
I want to follow.

Ramble on I do
with visions I have of you,
pink pussycats,
a falling star,
itchy palms,
the balm of this or that,
Casablanca,
Philadelphia freedom,
the Red, White, and Blue,
******* you to the wall,
egg rolls,
soul-stealers,
planting seeds,
the madness of Jack,
quack quack quack,
****** body parts,
kissing Detroit,
drunk on sunshine,
mountain zephyrs,
pixie-talk,
Kingdom come,
down dogs,
London fog
Vegas folly,
dead roses,
sweet sensations,
hurt,
pain,
pop tarts,
warm velvet,
porcelain orbs,
whack whack whack
universal soldier
lover.

I buried myself in conformity,
hid my heart for a millenium
& now words,
mere words
flood my soul
& I,
I construct endless verse
to deconstruct
my invisibility
& time,
time is not on my side,
only love.

Something about classical,
it hits you down deep,
beats the ****
out of all
that other crap.

My devotion ran deep.
I'd kiss the bottom of your heels,
**** every one of your toes & eat the corn
to keep you.
But you thought all that was gross
& skedaddled
to find somebody more civilized
& less devoted.
But does he kiss your *** in a three-piece suit?

Don't ask me how I know her,
but I feel her, too.
And I feel him in his laugh,
singing about a strange kind of woman.

I wanted to quit,
but I love
the taste of nicotine
on her pretty full lips.
I'm addicted to kissing her
(cigarettes)
now,
de facto.

I am afflicted,
dreamy,
with vivid visions
like deja vu.
We're seated there,
in uptown Manhattan,
she's sporting platinum hair,
covered in golden fleece,
scribbling
cryptic poetry to me
underneath the table.

Her eyes turn azure,
screaming
daisies
over a plate of alfredo,
I am in a hurricane.

And from the corner of my mouth,
I drool streams,
seeking answers
from outside the box.

Does she feel
like I do?

I swear I feel like I've been here before.
Looking at road ****,
the concept of deja vu is alive and well
at the moment.
I feel this welling building up inside me,
taking me back,
inhaling
a blend of thick diesel smog
& sweet sickly odors.

I can daydream all night,
fight romantic urges,
be drawn into illusions.

The paradigm-shift
takes away any confusion,
makes this deliberate,
make no mistake.

I can tap my keys in
this seclusion,
feed your
pretty space.

Patience is
after all
a virtue.

I remember
the way it used to be.
Your pretty face so delighted,
precious-eyes tightly shut,
biting knuckles,
sighs of satisfaction,
candy-tips displaying
sheer excitement.

Spreading soft-pink,
you relished in my handiwork,
gushed your sentiments,
my tongue hidden deep
in delicious-oblivion.

I remember
the way it used to be,
you and me.

If you've got the peanut butter,
I've got the jam,
we'll make a sandwich,
but do you like smoked ham,
a big sweet pickle?

Hauling *** on I-10
with a billion galaxies
exploding
in an array above me,
I descended on Deming,
crystal jewel city
twinkling madness,
a desert oasis
where nobody exists,
except super eights
and day inns,
barred prisons
capturing
exhausted motorists
& some are ***** houses waiting.

I crunched my way down
along the spine
using moonlight reflections
to guide my way
drowning the stars
I thought
of goose feathers
and chicken soup
with a wrinkled smile
in my own little world.

She plays a mystic & speaks in secrets,
hypnotizes men with her sensuous-gait,
musk floats in strong streams behind her.

Her mouth tastes like succulent dates
ripened under the Damascene sun,
her ******* are perfect orbs
formed by the hands of the gods,
the curvature of her buttocks sways
like elusive cobras, her bite
can poison the soul of the weak ones
& in her hair lies fresh flowers.

I pray for her fervently
night & day
to come take me away
on a magic-carpet ride,
across an ocean of stars
twinkling in the glorious
infinite heavens above.

I see your kerosene fire
burning
on a distant shore
& there are no ships
coming,
you left me cold.

I saw many of them,
brave young souls
dying on strange foreign soil.
Sadly, they believed in the hype,
this war on terror,
it's not about the oil.
Such *******,
such a waste.
Watching their young lives
trickle out onto the desert sands,
while the rest of the world
converses on Facebook,
listens to their new favorite bands.

I want to walk
in deep space,
pull your tether
& play bumper cars
with you
under the stars
before the sun rises.

I want to engage in
manual manipulation
with you,
spin G's around the moon
& whistle rocket man tunes
while knocking your
sweet spacesuit boots.

I want to experience reentry
with you,
float on triple parachutes
& blast-off
again & again
onto your soft pad.

Shoot me with your phaser on stun,
then drag me to your starship,
tie me down,
inject me with serums,
hook me up to machines,
take me out of this world,
help me to reach nirvana
on the dark side of the moon,
experiment all you want,
I am a willing specimen.

Off the dusty
reckless trail,
my two angry-feet
stared back at me
from across my kingdom-
a claw-footed
tin-lined
copper washtub
manufactured in St. Louis
for wayward Western royalty,
just me and my feet.

From under the bubbles,
I swore there would be no trouble.
Between a thick-veneer of desert ****,
I told my toes not to be alarmed,
to hang tight,
'cause this was going
to be our night for peace.

The last thing I saw
as we drifted into serenity
was my twin 44's
hanging quietly
in my well worn holsters.

Yessum, there's were rare times
out here, out here
in the desperado-hinterlands,
where quick hands
could bury a man
and his two feet.

I felt my hands tremble
at the thought of tomorrow.
But for tonight,
this quiet peaceful evening,
me & my feet
were surely safe
from any
immediate harm.

Amen (for these peaceful easy feelings).

When we slipped on the nvgs,
we even made cyclops look good.
But it gave us the edge,
not a single living thing
went unnoticed in the pitch,
all of us became terminators.
That **** was psychotic,
itchy fingers
& controlled breathing,
we bagged bad guys.
Bur despite what Arnold said,
I didn't go back.

I loved that devil
when he was first applied.
Now, I hate him.
Things change.

Times were simpler then.
You were my queen,
I was your king,
we treated each other
like royalty.

I saw your feminine-beauty
beneath your flowing sun dress,
succumbed to your magical-ways,
we played intimate under the moon.

There was never any fight,
you took me constantly
over the rainbow,
we bit lips in ecstasy.
But did you ever really know
how much I truly loved you?

I sit alone now watching the leaves fall,
still wondering about you,
your sweet-ways,
how we used to play at night.

I can taste your smile
in the cold December wind,
it makes me warm,
takes my breath away!

And shivering I think
about the simplicity
of what we once had,
so long ago.

O You,
you with your sultry lips,
such exquisite hips
sending yourself
digitally
in bits
& fine pieces,
gyrating
in your own lovely
sign language
& did you feel my thunder?

O Jesus,
I thought you wanted me....
guess not.

Thinking of you,
I push your lace to the side
& thump to the beat
of a different drummer,
but still,
my motion
is methodical
& deliberate,
somewhere between
rock and roll and jazz.
Can you feel my beat
doll face?

Tune in,
hi,
tune out.
this is the way it is,
Like you expected anything less,
a whole lot more.
the first kiss was a blessing.
Is it slways
going to be like this?
Open the door
the clock is ticking.
Tune out,
hey,
tune in.

I'm going to break out
my digging tools today,
a rake and a shovel
& plant something green.

Then
I'll kneel
in reverence,
maybe dream
about the future,
sunspots & global warming
& pray for rain.