forlorn figure standing
on a grey skies beach
gives rise to
thoughts of cold wind and dire essence
a saddness surrounds this misbegotten creature
this mispoken essence of a person in desperation
this crafted image of despair

many years have passed
but isn't it this very thing
this very place
that is the crux of what and who you are
she died on a beach
now you linger here
deliberatly
you cannot will not get past this

she awaits in dreams
clothed in the dim spectral next world
garments that come to mind
a beckoning figure
calling this one on the beach to join her

she waits for me

she folds herself into the chair
and carefully takes her purse apart
its ten thousand pieces form fit into neat piles of
randomness on the kitchen table
she places a picture of her old lover on my forehead
a drawing of a photographic rendering
its open face page stares down at me blankly
and rants slowly in dead languages
of its oblique view of the universe from perspective of a blind beggar
with his  relief at being free of  handbag confines
                        the grieving young widow wearing her wedding dress                                                        
run­s into the vestibule and assaults the coat rack                                                          
tr­ying to find her husbands face hidden in the pockets                                                      
after all the cheating ******* always getting head from every floozie                                           
left traces of himself all over all kinds of women                                                              
if lips could get pregnant he'd have a million children                                                         ­ 
she unwraps a notepad from her covered perch
and scrawls letters to famous dead figures of history as
she lurks in the coffee houses seeking poetic romances
she hangs round women's bathrooms for ***
there are large cracks in her family portrait
and she fills them with silly-putty and bubble gum
the widow is now running thru the wood                                                             ­               
naked as a jaybird                                                          ­                                                              
she carries her wedding dress in a demon infested box                                                                       
and she screams things to alienate them from any ideas of escaping                                            
            ­              she would rather bear their burden than loose them on the world                                                            ­                                   
she is a *******
and i adore her  
                            and everything about her
i would do anything to help and protect her
i am in love with her too
if you knew her you would love her
she is a wonderful person
nobody else can manufacture a entire universe from a homeless bag lunch
build a castle with its knights in shinning armor out of cigarette packs
find something dumpster diving and walk across town to give it to someone
that would give it a good home
remarkable people like her are always close to my heart

the moving shadows of
the men gathering
flicker in my vision
cause me to ponder the moment
in a way i had not seen before
cause me to fracture the vision
to decode the meanings in
each mans motion
each mans meaning

her long black hair entangles my head
as dose her deep long looking
her neat clean eyes frighten me
with their possibilitys
with their depth
with their hot beauty

it is not my place to find
a place in this womans life
i am but a distraction to her
somthing to occupy the moment
to phish for lost keys
in sections of some dreadlock music
she erased poems to fit onto the kindle

she removes her shirt
to rinse out the sweat
in the tidal pool
a young woman nearby stops
and stares
smiles when they meet eyes
and i am surfing my beach bike alone
walking it
home?
where am I
where am i going?

rainy season in the tropics
rain
rain
till the taste of rain is in your soul
like that grain of sand in your shoe
that you can never shake out
that forever grinds on your soulmeat

humid to breathing soup
and hot as a skillet full of thoughts you cant defend
watch em bounce round the walls of logic
seeking escape
seeking solace and finding none
incense ravished the room
with tropical far eastern scent
like a skillet full of poets lacking phrases

'center the thoughts
so much to do so little time'
utters the little man glancing at his wrist
where a watch is supposed to be
waiting for a train to a place
where he is supposed to be

'quick quick now
places to go
people to do'
but the hours seep by
and still he paces the rail side
waiting on a train who has already passed by

rain
hour after hour of hard driving rain
i sit in a doorway kindle shielded from the torrent
bickering within for each slow witted word
that stumbles out of my rain soaked mind
the damp has rotted my sense of direction
my sense of self
where do i go from here
this desolate beach in the rain
a mile or so up a lone figure moves slowly towards me
along the waters edge

i am alone
in the rain
rainy season in the tropics
rain
rain
rainy season in the tropics
rain
rain

the humana lady calls
and they say compassion has fallen the way
of chivalry

my mind is pale and drawn
thoughts spinning surreal and with washed out color
i sit on the edge of the bed
and stare into the void of carpet
i am sick
fever
numb to this idea
i make coffee and try and eat
i must venture things must be done
i reach for my cup
wake several hours later as a pool of sweating ache
on the floor several feet from the bed
how did i get here
i do not have energy to get up
but the kindle is here charging on a plug
by the baseboard
so i write
f%#kin horrid habit sometimes dont'cha think
sick as a dog and im carving up a poem
ok enough of this insanity
off to emergency i take my silly old ***
ill be fine
as soon as the room stops spinning
see you cats later
aiko aiko
:-)

(point)
versions of the day inform themselves to you
in hopeful parade of acceptance
each one such a grande smile
and each one a thin illusion
but age has taught you that no version
is accountable for its reality

pause on the edge of the frame
playing with some nothing in your hand to occupy the fingers
run your foot back and forth along the trailing boundary of the street
and do your actress highest performance to appear
to be concentrating on some conversation
you have internally of some earth shattering importance
perhaps he will approach
perhaps he will ask for a cigarette light
no that would be bad, you don't smoke
and would have to refuse him
you don't want to refuse him anything

folding and unfolding the worn page
of the thought that your life is stuck
know that your in the mood for
that special somthing and it seems like nothing
short of perfection to that vision will do at all
but life is a dance that keeps
changing rhythm and partners
plan all you wish if that keeps you busy when bored
but when it comes to it put such notion aside
step into the light
step up to the moment with your best face
and hope kiddo
best ya can do, hope kiddo

(counterpoint)
breath your way slowly into the moment
keep silent the doubts
keep still your fleet foot wish to flee
hold fast to the the thought she gave you
before she disappeared up the road
you wont be alone ever
long as your here in my heart

madness
i feel like i will drowned
in the rough noise of the world at the verge
of my doorway
fills me...washes away all thought
with dignity and reason
but you can loose yourself and responsibility
loose the reproach that you could have done better
that you should have tried this or that

there is no comfort in the words she left me with
it was just another rationalization

i hesitate
endlessly hesitate
wishing there was an easier way
wishing she was still here to help me see the way
all the angers slip away
in the alone night
and your left with the memory's of the person
and all the things she was to you

(dusk)
alone
alone
alone

the villain of the shadows cringes
and cries out as hard things do when they
behold themselves in such places
as in the true light of the fair maidens eyes
mercy is often found there
compassion and love too
but what he see's is a sale to the highest bidder
he steals away with the key to her heart
steals away with the treasure trove of
a fair maidens hopes and dreams

before the dawn can reveal his track
to the lawman who now follows in slow pursuit
he gathers himself and his plunder and sets off at a dead run
the lawman is a cold customer from times gone past
and he knows that twain shall never meet lest there be blood spilt
knows that the cold hand of justice serves none but its own
it lives to see others die
so he sets off at a dead run
as dead as his soul seems to be
as all his days have been
running from all his yesterdays
at a dead run
as dead as the lawman's heart

he stops for the night in the empty wash of an old stream
makes a fire by the water worn rocks
entranced by the lines of their ancient and dignified past
it troubles him so
he looks upon his ill gotten treasure
looks upon the fair maidens heart trove
and for the first time sees the beauty there
for the first time he sees what compassion's gentle hand looks like
the firelight jumps and leaps like dancers
he lay down and dreams of ceremonial dances and golden idols
dreams of a people for whom riches are in the heart
dreams he lived as one of them rich with love and happiness
he wakes with tears in his eyes

the lawman spends his night tracking slowly westward
he will not rest or sleep till he gets his man
he never dreams of anything but the cold hand of unjust justice
no compassion no soul to be tainted by hope

the villain of shadows begins to hear echoes in his mind
things that remind him of summer breeze and a girls pretty smile
her hand in his in the pouring rain
ages ago before darkness consumed him
now he begins to see a new path for him
if he can escape the lawman
now hes at a dead run to stay alive
now hes at a dead run to return the fair maidens treasure
if even a villain of shadows
can be redeemed
perhaps i may find some small coin of hope
but its hard to do at
a dead run

his mind a shatterbox of edges
his thoughts weary and dull
limp along like thorazine smiles
appearing one after another to be following him down the hall
begging him for semblance of inner peace
stop chasing me he whispers mock harshness to the darkness
hoping to frighten the thoughts away
he closes his door shutting out the dark hallway
and escapes to the exact center of light in his safe warm room

mind a shatterbox
full of slow motion detonations of thought and flashes of fragment memory
scary things in his head he keeps wrapped in wool sweaters and mittens
like little children sent out to play in the bitter cold
their voices scratchy with distance and time laughing at him
soon enough with runny noses they go home for cocoa and cookies
leaving him in the exact center of the room
as alone as he has been all night
all of his life
in the exact center of nothing
a shatterbox filled with mystery things
a broken man and his broken mind

he opens the door to the hallway
and with almost gentle grace steps slowly into the darkness
whispering fast prayers to protect from the fingerless hands
that reach but never grasp from the shadows
he moves up the hall to the cold floor bathroom
the chipped tiles are filthy with the tread of feet from up the hall
all the working men from the
burning fields and the crop to be harvested
their language is a song that he cherishes
but their eyes see too much of him so he hides from them

the night wears on as it always will
he repeats to himself that dawn cant be too far off
he only has to survive the silence of night for a little longer
survive the scary things just a little longer
his mind a shatterbox of broken things
protecting the world from the creature within

dawn has come and the new neighbor taps at the door
with the meal he was waiting for
he pulls the door open slowly and without a revealing word
takes the hot food and cakes
darkness is gone to sleep somewhere
hopefully far far  away
shatterbox filled with sleepy things
now hunger isnt a companion

*i knock at his door at dawn
and slip the bag of food into him as light
begins to creep into the world
this is his world
each new neighbor passes the torch to the next
'make sure the old man eats
the mans son pays the bill at the store
and they leave the meals at the door
but the old man almost never leaves that room'
i wish i could do more for him
but they tell me that he is happier alone
i never have been happier alone

like a vision of apocalypse
she drags a tree branch along the muddy
lane to the carnivals edge
where those of like mind gather

she believes her offered symbols
of peace will curry favor among the
indigenous or the occasional forlorn tourist
and she will have her safe harbour for the night
everyone deserves a place to at least rest
their head at the end of a futile day
and all here in the laughing happy places of the misbegotten
will attest to that truth of the road
so is it so strange to see her
with that nugget of hope lodged in her eye like a steel jackhammer

she is a complex phrase on the piano keyboard
that without having to speak entices the mind into the notions
of her tale spun in the scents of her patchouli and
the delicate pattern of her lace dress
her clean ****** limbs are filled with extreme tattoos and scented with fresh ***
she massages herself there
and closes her eyes at the point of contact

she looks at you with a question in her eyes
but she never asks
she is not one to want for what she isnt freely given
so you give her everything you have
along with your hearts strings
hoping to see that smile
that enchanted with its sweet touch

she is a simple turn of words in the worlds master plan
but she is a complexity in your life that
was unseen and unwanted

now she raises her flute
and raises a tune from ages gone past
that stings the hearts soul
with its refrains of pale and drawn lost loves
dying in the cold lands
and the tales of the forlorn waif who waits her days
for the man who went to sea never to return

shes a repeating moment
from the past followed us down from denvers cold
to join us on this beach
only to find me alone
but that means little
because her eyes are like steel jackhammers
ripping into the truths she thinks should be
ignore the reality's of the empty beach

in the briar patch of the mind
the rabbit is fat with his pretense
and the web of his thoughts is brazen and garish
they cascade thru me as he hammers at the dull metal
of his treasures
seeking to make true him rich rabbit dream

his brother the sow begins to shout that the hammering
is an appendage of his nightmares
reaching into the depths of his shallow soul
and twisting the heart-meat of his investment banker infested mind

and both rabbit and sow know they
must redouble their effort
to avoid being the centerpiece of the dinner platter
but in  the briar patch of the mind
its the failing of such grand designs that are the
bread and butter of such feasts
that you and i now wait with such hungers

its a desert of the soul to be certain
no cool thoughts to slake this thirst for the
simple comforts like a woman's hand to hold yours
so we must feed our souls with the scraps
cast aside without care or compassion from the
feast of the tourist trap
but isnt that been our lives far back as we can remember
catching firefly's in the evening rain
and spend the night just watching them with stark wonder
spinning round and round in a jar
looking back we should have just let them roam free
find the own destiny's

i stand here waiting on yet another day of hoping
for that break that will change this
set of dealt cards
for that break of the kid opening the jar
and letting us free to roam the summer free
and let us find a happier destiny

never dreamed that you'd be here
in the harsh light
of rolling wind
unfettered by toiling fingers
free of the recoil of shames blank face
some write some
some read
some dare to dream of a paradise
only to find a land of disintegrating smiles
seeing both sides of that hot coin
makes my eyes dust
read what iv written in her eyes
with my unsure hand
with my fractured heart
with the knowing
that after this
i am alone on this sea
with naught but starvation and stormfront
she quickens
its abyss or absolution
turn my eyes away from the open sky
i cannot face whats written there
she walks up to me
but frowns at something she perceives and drifts away

the light is infected
its disease casts a haze on my weather beaten
its denial of warmth radiates down to my very soul
razor thoughts are the bitter seed in the fertile soil of her filthty mind

vertical sunlight uneven on your confused thoughts
at least illuminate the way
as you forge the path to certain shade
benith palm trees etched out against the tropical horizon

she braids her hair
as she steps slowly among the rose petals
deep eyes entice
as her loose garment falls away
barefoot she weaves her way
from distant vision
to standing before you in deliberate slow motion
letting you drink in her natural and sleek form
before it is joined with yours in hot embrace

seas of sand
and the taste of ocean on the air
salty and swift to the senses
deep with the memory
of a thousand times
on the rolling waves deep in the atlantic's nights
only dreaming of her smoky form leaning into you
as she whispers your name

the light in the porthole
is infected with the muttering of the skippers madness
as he swears to take us deep and far
to a no-mans land of uncharted sea
leave us scattered like dry bones
on the wet soils of nameless atols
with  the bitter breads to be our banquet
and the dog that chewed off his finger as our ale

i climb the wave
to spill us off the crest
abreast the next
just to tempt his ire
but he rights us without a word

sailing in a wide circle
we are round here on the charts
but squared away and shipshape by
the hairy old ******'s eye

gather your faces and arm your footmen
there are challenges to the rule you lain down
with the lambs and wolves of debated thought
gather all your strength child
there is a hard road made of fragile glass
and my tread aint as light as when i was
the impressionable boy you lead astray
dont wish to shatter anyone's world
but somethings got to give like its freaking christmas baby
and its clear that you feel
like your the freakin princess gettin that pony
******* better fork that **** over but with a freakin quickness

like the folded page
creases run thru your hollow eye
as dust gathers like a skull in a window in the mind
intricate lines flow with the song
but these are not the words written there
these are the ones crafted in the hardbake
of hells only road
of pergatorys only path
you know that you allways leave places like this
heavy with profits
so dont hand me your sob stories
just whip out your cannon and spoon
lets get this over with
and no...sweetheart i believe i will pass on
a roll in the sheets with you

the river of my thought
leaks at the edge of my eye
and travels its own narrow mile
before it too comes to believe that she must
let to run free
cause there is nothing but desert
in this land of sea and sand
nothing but the faces of starving poets and there threadbare children
nothing but toys you purchased a week ago
in the basket for return get up the green for your poisons
your dope dreams killing my hope

the old man pulls his cart
slowly across the deep water parking lot
while a western wind brings steady relief
to the unforgiving heat

he hears a voice that
tells him that it'd be OK to let it all slip away
to lay down rest his weary soul
let the days drift
while he stares up at the passing clouds
from underneath his stone

graveyard graveyard i might never leave you
graveyard graveyard i came here to find peace for my weary soul
graveyard graveyard help me forget my name and worries
help me find peace at long last
staring up at passing oceans of clouds and sun
so quiet and serene