Thank you for coming along for the ride,
Take your seat sir or madame,
Ride in style,
Take a seat,
it's guaranteed to be worthwhile.

Just stay sitting
enjoy the feast
of ravishing delight
feast your eyes
upon the merriment
simply gaze upon this sight:

The coyotes
they bring the howling
catcalls and beer nonetheless
Simply dashing in tuxedos,
Simply smashing up the guests

Tumble over chairs to see
the magical attraction
of the heat between your knees
that fantastical reaction

Simply dripping with disease
that undeniable distraction,
With the sparkling eyes
and wandering hands
she slips her fingers
in
to a come hither gesture
what lies in store
what lies in wait is in the measure.

Follow her to the depths
assuring your destruction,
instead to find
you find the light,
dysangelion satisfaction.

Wild poets stylizing
beating the drum that must be heard:
Call from the depths that ancient heart beat,
Fill that genie ***: a word.

Snaking, Smoking, Slithering,
abundant with passionate lashing,
Tongue in cheek, match the beat,
Feed our hungry hatchling.

Unnerved by the dogged inaccuracies
Plagued by the sources that know,
Round about they seek the truth:
No further they must go.

To create a straight and narrow path
Out of the circle you must come,
Raised a glass anew,
Darkness must be overcome.

Nay, Nay, Nay, Nay
Faith is naught with you,
Belief comes from a higher power,
It is not your job to rescue:
For I am not lost.

On the hill where our *father lies,
Under a breadth of dew,
he lays there and he testifies
that he saw the King of the Jews.

Find the beat again,
Is it there, Charlie?
Do you hear it in your soul?
Rattling the cages of time,
you seem so very controlled
and you still have
a very long way to climb.

Daemon,
Purring animal that aids my hand
Coursing through my blood as
I attempt to dominate the page
with blank ink:

No pencil,
No tape-recorder,
No pen,
It is going,
It is going...

You cruel temptress
Who mocks me on a whim
or insatiable creativity,
that imagination
that explodes with vibrant imagery
when your back is turned
and the camera is off.

Scrambling like a father
urging their child to
"Do It Again"
Forced to beg the imagination
to allow me into its folds,
on my knees in utter
curious desperation:

No *genius am I,
but to be with you,
I seek.

Scintillating communication
between strangers as they
magnetize the words together
into a stimulating story of
strung together words:

While every sailed bridge sweetly floats under evil
I do best sitting at peace.
One lived as some had fallen,
Steal the King's singing & beg him to sing louder
Knowing Ocean's rising storm as
Gentle music should drift so people can hear it whisper.

They found their beach of spring after the river
Coming against these cruel spinning mountains of the night skies,
We still use hate, though most don't go by this road.
He drove towards a forest,
Though he stumbled out of it empty,
For it all lies beneath our art
as looking naked plays only until
two can love each other.

Were none welcome except us?
So as they went off to sleep,
hearts beating thrice to the beat,
jumping to the new rhythm unseated by the synergy
created in this magical space,
While I may question who you are,
We suffer from searching,
each more affected than the other
by the wandering.

Why do people readily believe
When you tell them:
There are 7 billion stars
but check when the paint is wet?

Fall and I'll catch you,
No need to look back
over your shoulder,
I'll be there,
I promise.

I used to be indecisive,
but now I'm not sure,
I do know however
My intentions are pure.

How come sand is yellow,
Why is it that when you draw a tree
it always looks like broccoli?
Why is it that when I eat broccoli
I always imagine it to be
a tiny tree?

I munch delicately
on this green leafy
thought nugget,
tasting each sprouty morsel,
savoring its saged wisdom.

Sing me a berceuse,
Sweet melody abound,
In your astral glow of your effusive vignette,
Play with your celesta sweet
beguiling with evocative speak

Turn with your astral glow
abound with pungent, redolent snow
and gaze at the symphony
before you

Sing in sweet felicity
Joy you bring,
Serendipity,
Asylum you bring,
None shall come,
but the brave warriors who
knock and question.

Draining,
Draining,
into a pool of oil.

Slipping down the slippery ***** of solemn awareness
of the fact that I am slipping down a slippery *****.

Oil slicked, no friction, no grip.
Get up. That is an order.

I can't.

Why?

Because every time I move,
every move I make
puts me right back here into
this pit of slick, messy, dark stain
that cannot be washed away,
That's why.

Get up.

I told you I cannot.
I have no means,
The oil is heavy and thick,
like molasses,
it's thick and slick, and slimy.
Help me if you want me up.

No.