Searing flames ignite a volcanic
     inferno of need.

Sanguine licks of fire
     consume tempermental flesh.

Fierce, sizzling desire bows
     to wanton pleasure.

Dragon slain,
Vile creature,
Pillaging our home.

Family lying dead
Torn to ****** shreds
In the rubble of destruction.

Senseless slaughter,
Unreasoning winged monster,
Murdering and razing.

Vengeance has been mine.
Hunted down, to its bower,
Slain without mercy.

As it has shown none,
So have I.
Vengeance sought and found.

Exhaustion, grief, pain,
Now mine,
Tell me I have lived this horror.

But going on?
Inconceivable,
Grief unreliquished.

Sinking to my knees,
Praying to that God,
Begging final peace.

No answer given.
Only the quiet sound,
Of one spared.

Calling for help,
Beneath debris,
Safely sheltered.

Tis my own,
My child,
My reason.

Wisps of arctic
essence circulate in
the atmosphere of being.

Translucent whims
waft among the humid
rushes of desire.

And tremble at
the musical notes
of fulfillment.

Ancient wise and fearsome, Dragons grab the mind.
Rend the soul. Open your eyes to the delights of gold.*


Reaching forth with one glistening claw,
scraping the earth in a foot deep furrow,
It opens an eye to gaze upon the foolish
who seek its treasure.
And seeing before it a young boy,
gazing in awe, total amazement,
smirks in silent humor.

Puffing out a wisp of smoke,
enamoring the boy even further,
it slowly stretches wide its winges,
making shelter from the icy weather,
for this fearless child of Man.

The gold tinted, rustling scales,
shake the child from his reverie,
and gazing into the creatures eye
He asks in a timid shaky voice,
Mighty one, can you spare a coin?

Staring sharply, at this young sapling of a boy,
daring to request such a heavy toll,
from one such as he.  
The Ancient One, with eye whirling,
reaches under his massive belly and extracts a pence.

And to the boy, breathes "for a price childe, you may have such as this"
The emaciated filthy boy, looks hopefully up at the dragon,
wondering what a price would be for this pence.
And, yet knows that he has no choice but to pay.

For at home, his family suffers terribly from the poverty
brought on by invading tribes from the farlands.
Food taken, cattle slaughtered, family treasures destroyed.
Like so many others, suffering under this retribution,
desparate for the basic neccesities of life.

And from this suffering, born in this young boy,
Courage enough to approach the Ancient One for assistance.
And, so he steps forward, shaking, and bowing his head, asks,
"What price do you require, Ancient One?"

Rumbling deeply in its chest, the dragon considers,
this lowly life form, its obvious need and desparation,
commands, "Return tomorrow, with a robin's egg
and you shall have this pence."
And, closing its eyes, lowering its wings, became still as stone.

And so, hope sprung forth in the young lad's heart,
as he raced to share the news with his family.
That such a treasure should be within his grasp for such a simple request.
And, so begins the story of mentor and student.
With hope for a better future for family and friend.

Close your eyes.

Immerse yourself
in
the sensuous treasure
of
a rose.

Sweet scented
seduction.

Soft, fragile petal
grazing your cheek.

Find yourself
enamored
of cool
dew
that slipped
the trenches
of a nimbus cloud and
settled on this
speck of
earth-bound beauty
inspiring
procreative
urges.

A symphony

felt in

vibrations

that make eardrums

thrum

in pleasurable

synchronicity.

Seasons changing, autumn's coming.

The birds, I see them flocking,
Readying for the long migration.

The locusts, whirring, in the trees,
leaving behind their shells, to mark their passing.

Colors brewing in the leaves, yellows, reds, oranges,
Awaiting the cool nights to brighten them.

Leaves twirling down from the limbs,
Spinning, blowing on the breezes.

Snapping twigs, crunching leaves,
Scattering before bright boots kicking them.

Crunchy apples, warmed cider, chili on the stove.
These are the things I love of autumn.

Be thee privy
to the cascading
whispers of the
tides continuous?

To the tranquil
bubbling and splashing
of light, translucent
fluid?

Saturated in the
unpredictable motion
of the flowing
river of a mind
wandering.

Act I

Slowly awareness returns,  eyes flickering open.
Where am I?
What has happened?

"Doctor, the patient is waking."

Who was that?
What is this? I can't move my arms?
Panic rising....

"Doctor, he's stirring......"

Eyes opening wide, taking in the sterile environment.
The shadowy face leaning over me....

Then,
looking down,
I see...........

"Unholy Hell, WHY am I wearing a CHICKEN Suit???
with AZZLESS chaps???"

Collapsing back onto this white starched bed,
Slowly bits of memory stitch themselves together....
Remembering vaguely walking by the transvestite bar....



Act II

"So, dude, I was walking by this transvestite bar the other night.  And next thing you know I'm waking up in a hospital."

"No, now listen, I woke up wearing a chicken suit, you know bright yellow fluffy feathers, orange beak, red comb.  And, you will NOT believe this.  I was wearing a pair of Azzless Chaps!"

"I know!  Memories a bit foggy yet.  Can't understand how that happened.  I was on my way to see my girlfriend.......  Where this chicken suit came from, I haven't figured out yet.  Man, I'm glad my mom didn't see me in those Azzless Chaps!  She doesn't know I have that tattoo of Marilyn Monroe on my ***."

"Wow, if only I could....................OH, Oh, oh nooooo............was that my dad in the audience??  ***! There was an audience!!"

"Dude, I have to go.  I'm not feeling very well."



Overheard as he wandered away, "Wow, what was dad doing in a transvestite bar..........?"



Act III



"John, do you know what I found in our son's hamper?  They were just stuffed in there.  There's a pair of pants, John, with the backside cut out.  Never seen anything like it, and something bright yellow and feathery, John.  No idea what it could be."

"John........John........Are you listening to me?"


Our friend, John, has gone three shades of green.  Finally, mustering some strength, he asks, "Helen, could that feather thing be....be.... a chicken suit?"

"Why, John, I think it is!  It's not even Halloween yet.  What is that boy thinking?  John, do you suppose that he will ever graduate from college and strike out on his own??"  Helen continues muttering as she walks away, John catching only intermittent words regarding the pants with the missing backside.

As we watch, John looks about, and nonchalantly pushes a pair of sparkling purple heels, and an interesting pair of lace lavendar underwear deeper under his lazy boy........



Act IV**



At the Transvestite Bar, aka A Lark for the Queens, we watch some of our friends sitting around the smoke filled room, enjoying the atmosphere, and having a few drinks.

"Harrietta, did u catch that performance the other night?  It was inspiring."

"That new guy sure put on a show, after we loosened him up a bit.", said Frank, adjusting his pearls, while touching up his lip gloss.  

"Wonder who he is, I wanted to ask him where he got that fantastic tat, Marilyn is my idol!"

The fellas sip their drinks, reminiscing.........

Suddenly, a flash of purple sequins attracts Frank's attention.

"John!, Come on over. We were just discussing that new guy in our recital last week!"

Our friend John, glides over on glittering purple heels, pulls up a chair and shifts his flowing gown so he can properly seat himself.

"Well, I don't think he was all that good fellas.  Glory, bring me a spritzer, will ya."  The discomfort in John's face, almost tragic.

As our fine troupe of men continue to sip their beverages, we glance over and see our Monroe tattooed actor, timidly glancing in the door......

Hopscotch

Girlfriends running, twirling, too.
Taking turns out in the sun.
Skip and hop across the board.
Leap over the marked one.


Twister.

Red right foot,
Bodies blend.
Green left hand
Twist and bend
Blue left foot,
Over extend.
Yellow right hand
In a body pile, again.


Chess

Pawns in play,
Knights abound.
King in check,
Queens around.
Pieces falling one by one
Check and Mate is the sound.


Tag

Tag! You're It.
Running wild.
Laughing, screaming,
Swift little child.


Jumprope

Rope atwirling overhead.
Jump when its under.
Singsong chanting
Sounds like thunder.


Checkers

Red men, Black men.
Jump on a diagonal.
King me, king me
Gonna jump a handful


Kick the Can

Running down the street.
Kicking that can.
Swarm of kiddies
Chasing past the man.

Planets align
Don't malign

Elliptical simplicity
With rhetorical duplicity

Minds engage
While hearts do rage

Beyond the sources
Of controllable forces

Span the continuum
In search of equilibrium.

The Lost are found
Yet questions abound

Hippos in crates
On rollerskates
Crashing through
the rickety gates.

Crashing and bashing.
Oooooooooooh, how Smashing!
Rolling about
Their teeth a-flashing!

Running amuck!
Watch out for the duck.
Open the doors!
Back up the truck!

Zipping up the ramp
Like any old champ.
There they go!
Don't forget the stamp.

Crates in the mail!
Delivered without fail.
Those Hippos on skates
Lurching down the trail.

crows in threes
beneath the boughs,
bow low to thee
my lady.

Dead.
Ingloriously, unceremoniously dead.
Nothing special.
Just dead.

That one of billions.
Poor bug.
Smashed all over the wall.
Guts flattened.
Bits broken.

No one to care.
Other than the cleaning lady.
When she's done.
No evidence the reaper has been.

In the depths of night, long past midnight,
when shadows come out to play.

Spirits moan about the loss of their corporeal bodies,
sounding lost and hollow in their deprivation.

Nightmares with their heaving flanks,
ebony coats glistening, spread their dark visions.

And I, unable to find peace in the arms of sweet sleep,
lie with eyes open,
watching the haunted dance of shadows at the window.