love is easy to fall into.
love is hard but still
so so easy,
to fall out of.

many are the women
I have desired.
enough are the women
I have lain beside.

but friends true, in all my life,
number less than the fingers
on one hand.

Sometimes your lovers
are also your friends.
lovers must learn
the other's boundaries,
respect them,
to stay lovers.

ex-lovers,
jumping back and forth,
over that
crack in the sidewalk,
trying, but man,
that's so hard,
almost never bother.

but give me one true friend,
man or woman,
will give them my blood,
my skin, my organs, my money,
and never ask for anything back
or in return.

simply because,
I will never need
ask.

that has taken the mantle,
the muse of inspiration,
for she -
(did you think she was a man-god?)
dyes me oft, colors me, ***** me,
loves me with intensity hot
that near to make my heart stop.

poems I did not know,
knew not their name,
would write,
but moments ago,
now are
chicks in the hatchery hatching,
cupcakes in the oven rising,
spit in the mouth *******
so fast a-coming,
the sustained pleasure
the best drug I have designed.

seconds ago there were none,
a lifetime of moments,
now, multitudinous,
molecules of
oxygenated words
flying past my eyes,
purposed for inhalation
through my skin.

all week I have stretched and pecked,
shreds of lettuce un satisfied,
a title, no poem,
a stanza, no poem,
like I need a woman,
need to write,
like I need loving,
desperate and raging,
need to write.

even my alter ego,
the hidden me,
where I write on the other side
of edgy, indie, across border lines,
in a name you do not know,
nothing.

started poems about
being enlightened,
my eldest sin,
my eldest son,
hitting a kid with a car,
reading writing and 'rithmetic,
inch plants,
****,
about the young poets here,
fast track to nowhere.

but at 2:22 am awoke,
my small engine repaired,
the fingers humming flying across the keyboard
so fast broke the 3:50 minute mile,
dear muse,
I hate you with all my love.

would it be so terrible if you gave me
one complete per day,
is that too much to ask?

now I am choking gasping on
****** adrenalin cup overflowing,
now they come like *******
only a women can have,
so many more than one,
long short fast furious
separate but connected.

you make me woman,
just like you.

one day when get up high where you reside,
gonna start a recall petition, and if that don't work,
a revolution, to kick out  the cruelty y'all dish out,
the tornadoes and typhoons,
return the missing to their parents,
and give inspiration, hope
to every human poet upon this
living planet.

now I comprehend why
Shakespeare's theater was called
The Globe.

had to
give a speech
at a funeral,
tried to leave them laughing,
happy to be sad.

but i done it.

whipped those rivulets
back up and into
those emptying tear ducts.

bring on the next act,
be prepared, scouts,
to exercise your
laughs lines.

you see,
when the deceased
and me,
walked twenty paces
behind you,
close enough that y'all
could not hear,
we cackled and cracked jokes,
in joyous wonderment
of our own foibles,
drunk silly on our silliness.

the jokes went from
bad to worse,
the worse it got,
the harder
we laughed.

so i ask you this?

did you're hear the one about
the grandpa
who asked his grandchild,
could he possibly source
a little yellow pill,
in return for
twenty bucks
under his pillow?

Sure, said the grandchild,
he knew where
his dad kept,
hid his stash,
free cash.

Next morning,
the child found
$120 bucks
underneath his pillow.

asked his grandpa,
what's the story, gramps?

the  twenty was from me,
as agreed.
the hundred dollar bill, well,
that was from Grandma.

a true story, maybe.

so long grandpa,
thanks for the good advice,

always leave 'em laughing!

then he broke down,
weeping inconsolable.