Shallow syntactical grappling
Love songs forever rearranged
Hook is loose lips exchanged
Spying your mind for crackling
Let me in, I hear that rattling

Fire imagination and singeing
Marbles liberating love call
Pow perplexes inspiring awe
Superficial burn's impinging
All hung on passion's hinging

Pay no attention grammatical
Cryptanalysis of undiscovered
Love themes and talents discolored
Smothered a world so fanatical
As true love very mathematical

Like glass ***** zipping out ringer
You shoot beyond my orbit
This game I am about to forfeit
How dared is this heart stinger
Winner of game, a zinger

Taggers case freight car yards,

a complicated process

to choose splendid canvas. Steel

stealing is time lapsing. You

take a property, not yours.

You take flashing blink. It cooks

eyes of dull suburban housewives,

while they sit in wait

at railroad crossings. Its chicanery

is a contrivance tempting those

mother's sons. Offbeat drawn

out of the daily rides to school,

how they wish for spray paint,

to challenge their mothers'

judgements. Soon enough

he picks up his own can.

Feels that psssst.

Knows his new name.

I left part of you
under and within mulch
of the rhododendrons
by sacristy's window

As close as I could bring you
to saintly relics
without endangerment
of my own immolation

That way
when church bells chime
communicant I might be
with you

Garrulous tolls
ringing from a high
reminding me
your hallowed selflessness

As clangs resound,
reechoing's reaching,
your preaching, there
to your choir

And here I dance
above other scatterings
of you, your deranged
selfish parts

Dichotomous bones
cremated and created
because I never believed
in your martyrdom

Too self-righteous
to resurrect
Let your clattering flatter
Let my feet stomp

Your suicide changed me
Enflamed me
And you and I
are not saints

Though you are now
somewhat
closer
to them

Essential are my feminine ways
Finding balance in this male form
It is woman in me who advocates
Extraordinary intellectual attainment
Ability to do great many things
Tolerably well and even masterfully
A few
Makes me think, “is ‘masterfully’
Appropriate definition?”
When I feel this source of creation
This cleverness, learning and knowledge
Is woman
I am a man, yes
And grateful to be so
And I enjoy the company of men
Yet without this recognition
Of a more gentle natured being
That resides within my genetic make-up
Without this strength of my mother
A better-half of me might not exist
Therefore I am grateful
For the whole of my existence
And I wonder if women
Think the same in regards
To their fathers
And the gifts these men instill
In DNA
We all are varying degrees of both
Could this be doubted?
After all
This merger
This zygote
Are fertile ****, we become
Human from

Summer, with rains swelling like a Tolstoy story
of men sent to war, of bravery and cowardice,
of man questioning putting himself in harm's way,
who, what influences your pouring?
Cloud bursts and cracking skies lit by bolts of wonder,
of uncertainty, of suspicion,
do you feel the feeling of self-preservation
or of self-implosion?
Does justice consequently actualize in your humidity,
in your ideology of warm front meets cold front confrontations?
Sizzle summer, then pour.
Make the wheat germ swell and fields flourish
for in some other part of the world,
some other farmer's crops are failing
and this is what leads to war.

Birds in mass, commune on crumbs
What's thrown to them, devoured
I am their Father, the wine soured
Distant when our time comes
Misinterpretation, speaking in tongues

Chimes recordings, dull church bells
Twenty first century interpretation
An audio playback congregation
Find gospels taught in prison cells
Each,  internally, their own hells

Homomorphism, the new Genesis
Everything becomes the same
No answer as to, who to, blame
For genetic selection brings us this
And all the choir coos in bliss

Who declares masculine/feminine?
What right do we have to decide?
For aren't we not born of both
With each chromosome supplied

DNA of mother and father
Made you who you are
Chemical equation ever perfect
Fused by variable star

Do not fret which way one leans
"Boyish" and "girlish" just terms
For everyone is quite unique
And in the heavens confirmed

Variables of X and Y, simply, are
Unknown to you or I
What come of who you truly are
Depends on how you try

Something needs to thaw before dinner
can be cooked. There is a multitude of frozen
things in this house. Three refrigerators
to match same number of icy hearts. They
all warm up at different times, though a stale
frost seems to permeate.

Toward lower place, holy steps I set
Process, solely to pleasure you
On traverse an atman, to gaiety get

Nor nimble nosedive quantify free
Greater love; comparable, higher
Twinkle, flash, glister this treasury

Wholehearted welfare bid proceed
Serve solicitor, man’s nourishment
Assign an office, your eyes indeed

Devotional candle, clarity in light
Love is not debt, to which subscribed
Gliding pathway bearing orbit’s flight

Still, this I am helpless to choose
Why you here feel, as if sanctity
From every lover, which I did lose

Sparse conclusions, respect to heart
Luminary moment of sudden spark
Accept this love as forgotten art

I think things like~

what if every raindrop was
encapsulated in a wax casing?

and what of all that rain
and all those wax casings?

would the wax coagulate
in some weird way
while coolness of clouds cover?

or when heat of sunshine
broke through, would they what?

turn into sloshy slicks of slippery drippings?

would the water molecules
find their way to each other
to form rivers?

and would the wax bank itself
in coagulated forces of gravity
and magnetism yet to be understood?

what if all the wax was spectrum sensitive?

and its rainbow reflective
properties sponged twisting
of tentacled wonder from
every imaginable surface

what then?

would all dullness slip away?

or would we all be burdened
by a way of life unknown
at this juncture of elemental uncertainty?

I stare into the filmy rainbow swirls
of gasoline floating on puddles
and wonder

when will crude discovery of
what a waxy mess we've made
of petrol dependence finally
plop upon us?

when and why?

Yeah, they're at it again, mid-flight madness. ****** Tunes doesn't come close to the deranged daffiness one might witness at the lakes this morning. Wacky waterfowl white washing each others' *****. Mother nature is looking for an indecency arrest. Worse than some men I've met crawling through the bushes at Buena Vista Park in San Francisco, or here at Judy Garland Park in Philly. Every city has that spot you know. Unseemly areas where frivolous feathers get ruffled alongside muskrat love tumbling. Knock over, lose footing, take a header, bowl down, go belly up, do a pratfall, fall headlong, slip, slump, skid, spill, plummet and plunge into nose dive. Descent as such, with its dip dropping and flopping, when ducks are doing it in air-raids in prime seedtime, seems only a natural order.

So, my advice to you more demure is, keep your priggish, prudish, pretentious, puritanical, uptight primness off those unbeaten paths, because birds just gotta beat one off every once in awhile. Duck, here comes another. Splat, see I told you so.

Constancy is no more, it jabs an antonym
Dependability on only what elongates ache
Spasms cordiality that is nearly lost memory
There is a mechanism of biology unforgiving
This black box jocose
Laughing at ruination
Temptation to dive forward into flames
Rather than run
Unfailingness, ends are eventual
Everything is spotted with its departure
When you're seeing your own

I sit inside my window
he sits outside my heart
he passed upon the cement
a heart that did not start

They could not bring him back
It seems he never was
there for me some how
but what I had, Twas

sometime ago he left
pain of windowpanes
call out beyond the glass
resonance that feigns

Tribute to his ignorance
mine, just the same
Do recall his beauty
though never gained much fame

It snapped shuttered darkness
left more dead inside
Some may wonder what becomes
of wishes we abandon, and hide

falling from the window
another sees his flight
marks a man forever
consequence so slight

superbly executed fall
and there lie all the parts
mangled broken ******
not one, but two hearts

I see it so plainly
still to very day
my love on pavement
It doesn’t go away

pain of windowpanes
makes no sense to me
cannot grieve today
bones and flesh I see

Please don’t give pity
it is not for what I ask
Just look upon this city
and all its broken glass

Cozenage be vein of her parsimony
deciphering unlikely by any logician
witchcraft concealed in metrical composition
She jerks one’s tears with great acrimony
as selfish rhymes sings no just harmony

Carefully she devises alliterative pull
this to an ear, dare sound enchanting
how known better be most common ranting
Twists words with lilt but not essence full
leaving some to say, “such pulled wool”

Speaketh she, as from long faraway world
this strange poetess be not one at all
seasoned sailor know she blow tall squall
Serpent’s tongue flailing and twice twirled
young sailor I suggest, keep sails securely furled

Found one another in clean white cotton fluff
Immediate halt, Greek Theos, thematic vowel
Rock star curls, twists fell your neck, shoulders
Exquisite softness, loops eros and cotton towel

Deluxe strength, and rest of you tanned
Almost bumptious, except eyes, grin too cool
Brought into your ellipses, tremulous flutters
No names exchanged before mouths grew drool

Kiss that could have lasted conquering of Rome
What had happened to us in diaphoresis baths?
Battle of endurance ensued, gripping challenge
Whence young men in small towels cross paths

Presence finds itself least expected, yet underscored
Anywhen, somewhere, a bus rolls into aurora, at wee hours
Though not on oceans
That's the place where cargo ships do
Together with airplanes, these larger escorting
tempos and times, clock shifts
Pulling sun along with them
in motion intrinsic as sustenance
Workday begins for some pre light
Bakers and bus drivers know this best
Two noble professions perhaps glamorized, perversely
by this poet
but not without recognition of
their elemental indwelling of us all

Beyond the rusty and almost  illegible "NO DUMPING" sign, lies the old dump. Beyond the first layer of recently deposited *******, leftovers of the occasional hobo alcoholic or teen partiers, is the heavy underbrush, a thicket so thick. Beyond that, you begin to get into the good stuff. Waylaid remnants of yesteryears all bungled and tossed about, with plenty of new inhabitants (hatchlings and their recent refugee Canadian geese parents) calmly making good of what surrounds. Lots of rot, as it all sits creekside, gives malodorous inclinations of fishy remains, the raccoons' and martens' cast-offs. Beyond, and beyond further that, if you have stomach enough and don't mind mustering about with muskrats, is a nifty cache. Trinkets are found amongst heaps of broken glass in the beyond beyond regions. Whole or only slightly chipped vessels are gold. Especially, ones that may say, "Dr. Whosie's Whatever Wonderful Tonic Water." Those are the best.

Amongst a treasure trove as this, in its paragon of days gone by, is also a seepage of what may not be as good as the good doctor ordered. It is arsenic, and other carcinogenic pollutants, things unheard of, that would make your molecular epidemiology stand on end. Things an Industrial Revolution left behind, the not so pretty things we find, but do not see. Seepage that sinks into water, under our skin, into Leukemic bones, and beyond words' worries of families affected. Beyond all this, is us, and by stirring it up, we are given a question. Is it better to leave what's left behind in its depths, or are we to pull it out, likely spreading more about, as well as what may be residually left unfound, or do we just stop and think? And maybe get a new "NO DUMPING" sign. Thank you for allowing me this whine. This has been my dump.

Badger: (Sniffs and snorts) You, you Sir are on my road. Listen, you I am speaking to you. Who are you? Why is it that you lay on my road? This is my road and you do not belong here. Wake up Sir, or I shall become indignant. What right have you here on my road? I do not take lightly to strangers appearing on my road, in the middle of a night as such. You see, only the stars are out tonight to guide my way. You Sir are an obstacle of alarming disproportion and you indeed do not smell well. In fact I would say, you stink. So if you would kindly remove yourself from these premises, I will not be forced to reckon with you further. (Snort, sniff) Sir, Sir?!

Man: (Waking) Huh? Wha-wha-wha-what? (Shriek, shiver) Uhh!

Badger: Oh for the goodness of ground squirrels. Now this is indeed no such behavior in which I shall tolerate. Take your stinking self off my road before I snarl, and snap upon your nose, a reminder you should never forget.

Man: Oooh. Ahh. I am sorry Mr. Badger, Sir. Please forgive me as I am not well and must have suffered a spell here on your road. I insist Sir, I am not a drunkard or here to cause you harm. It’s just that at times I lose equilibrium, as my brain and nerve endings are not in harmony. I am so sorry to have made such a spectacle of myself, here on your road. If you give me a moment to compose myself, I shall be on my way.

Badger: Oh, I see. Well, this is some fine mess. I do suppose you will need some assistance. Take cover there, over by that tree across the road there, on the other side. I will divert the attention of the bear and mountain lion, as they shall be following up shortly. Now scurry on, or waddle or whatever it is you do.

Man: Thank you kind Sir. Mr. Badger Sir (Shuffles across street.)

Badger: Oh bother, no need for sniveling. Move along.

(Later at dawn, man wakes to lawn sprinkler hosing him down, and an odd recollection.)

Who spins color upon an iris painted?
Was it Sun who singed a purple tainted?
Did clouds weep ink to melancholy petals?
Did its roots sink down to mines of metals?

Who can answer these curious questions?
Should gnomes be known for such confessions?
Are plants determinants within its seed?
Genetics yen crying out for desire, and need

Who could know more a noble, royal thing?
Than an iris whose fringe is yellowed and sings
Compliments to purples, petals up and down
Why all Fairy Kings are wearing these crowns

Enfranchise worry and tears
go for it, those open floodgates
bottle and market it
sweeten with corn syrup
bittersweet amalgamation
lead poisoned wall
tankard of stern lost eyes
so swollen
cannot drip

Soon faucet will rust
and stagnant death
you have witnessed
will sanctify
any maddened reason why

Resistance to smile
through it
though you know you were blessed
to have loved each and every
Your dearly departed

Leaky toxic brew
Such as this
does no honor

To a life
an ongoing confer of privilege
You still own

So let it be
begin to smile

Again

that awkward laugh
pushed through an explosion

Tears


beauty you recognize
through the pain
You are permitted
this indulgent elixir

Extemporaneous words fall
Then jaw drops

Nonchalant phrases
to well deserved ear
avoiding acknowledgement

So back and forth it goes
underneath whole quantity
of quality

Then

When all the words are forgotten
couple stares at each other
desperately trying to

Remember
who that person is
But it is no use
and best to hope for

Tomorrow's lucidity

And when those moments
have slipped away
Alzheimer's wins

stuck counting dogwood
one flower two flower three
my I love this job

Bleak glimmers

Oh yes I'm going there
And
just goes to duller place

I'll stop right there

Silence and stillness awoken
And dishrags fall from sky's brink
Slapping mud splattering broken
New Jersey now kitchen sink

Flash from neighbor's window
Shot off mirror into my eyes
Big Mama begins without intro
Surrounds me gravy and fries

I'm rowing rivers in plastic cup
Other cars are bobbing downstream
What has Mother Nature just dished up?
Churning seafoam into whipped cream

No butter, no cream, not even a can of evaporated milk
How to make Thanksgiving delicious?
Need it be?
a bounty
beauty abounds
eyes feasting on it
Horn of goat Amalthaea
pouring endless abundance
Of American pie
charmed decadence, never humble
Making it Great Again
for Black Friday comes
with all its leftovers
for some

Still, beauty to be found
by resources unbound
by what conventional terms deem buttery deliciousness

Things chronicled in shalestone fossils
or superannuated tree rings
can only be read by convinced decipherers.
Disciples of scientific wedges,
the geologist, the dendrologist,
are playwrights of elapsed and extinct
note taking on modern note making gadgets.
Habits only experts in probing
can manage. To convince a tree hugger
that his data, is more evolved upon
a digital device rather than paper,
provides no comfort for fossil record-keeping
stone huggers worried about a valley
of eroding silicon.

I, for one, cannot be concerned for either.
As for a more feasible digital implant
to be splintered under my skin,
to keep track of my where-abouts
is now achievable. I may want one
for my dog or child, but do I want one
for myself?

Will I have a choice?

Curiosity kills iniquitous kitty
She's a bad bad girl but oh so pretty
Sure-enough excited 'bout living in da city
All in a tizzy 'bout this nitty gritty ditty

She's Agog-a-go-go, now's she's got her own show
Won't be doin' any ordinary *****
Less you pay her prices, and that's alotta dough to throw
So don't get fixated on Agog-a-go-go

Wax those whiskers, if you really like her Mister
All the DJ's love her 'cause she's such a sister mixer
It's all good fun, till she comes up with a blister
Didn't hear it from me, but da liquor does whisper

She's Agog-a-go-go, soon to be a no-show
'Cause she's mighty hyped 'bout da fame ya know, ya know
Emotion motion industry can catch you with a logo
But the truth is honey it all ends up a big 'ole no-go

She meets a real cool cat, who shows her how to cope
But everybody knows, he's just sellin' her dope
Keeps her on a leash, for other men to *****
Miss Agog-a-go-go is soon to lose all hope

She's Agog-a-go-go, Agog-a-go-go

She holds my attention
Having gently extracted eye from my head
Rolls my all seeing sphere
Against every inch of her
Releases any fractionated fears
Peripheral intensity
Then she
Inserts me
Shows me insides
Mysteries unrevealed to others
Chasms of want and desire
Yearn canyons
So large at this angle
Light pours in
From her eyes
Nostrils
Ear cavities
Her open mouth
Where succulent mist is swallowed
No organs exist in here
Other than
A hard thumping heart
This eye inside her
Reverberates
Learns her dance

Today I removed a cloud from the sky
and dissected it

This is what I found:
it's skin was made of a drove of lambs
hundreds of them
completely weightless

As I plucked them off
they rose in insomnia-tic song
puffing along
back to their fields of azure
ever for sure
someone would soon be counting on them

As I uncovered this first layer
and watch merry ones drift away
I’d liken to say
saw a wash of dreams unfold
more than the many sheep I counted
and fell into them

And drifted away as well
you were there too
pouring yours into this floating vessel
of bouncy measurements
of worries and hopes

And we kept on drifting
waiting to rain

Connecting night's dots of lights
I'm so often left bewildered
If I could, I surely should
Travel Milky Way unfiltered
Squishing aglow to dim although
These wantings have been pilfered
By blur of light from this night
And another man's wish differed
Star snatched crime, so sublime
Nothing and all considered

Having left paradise some time back,
and watching tint fade, rose sky
goes lavender, washes into deep blue.
These ultra violet filters, pandemonical,
fly googley-eyed and I am stuck
in hard realization of incapacity
to adapt to current color scheme.
Can grey go further black
until soot is creosote?
Tar now tumbles and bubbles
in nostrils, blindness leaving only
sense of smell, an oil field carnage.
Green by any means,
flags with dollar signs,
majestically waving and when
complete soul is sold out,
I disperse upon a riptide
of foamy grey matter.
Silicon Valley earthquake
sends forth satanical tsunami,
washing away World Wide Web
and your pretend paradise too.

Fussily he figures, that’s not good enough for him
Excessively high standards got his best, and then
Contempt for average qualities; things he had abhorred
Became almost everything, as he always needed more

His code of behavior, to one, might seem ideal
Criterion of excellence would show at every meal
Fork, knife and spoon oh-so polished, and set precisely
All a fanciful show, and done so ever nicely

Particular attention to each and every detail
In acquisition of mate, indisputably he’d fail
For who could ever live up to these extreme conventions?
Or be it prissy of me, to mention these intensions?

Mr. Fastidious to some, might seem the status quo
A state in which display, is an always-complex show
Fail not to follow all rules, as they are set to be
Or you might dine alone, a wordy one like me

I never really speak exactly what's on my mind. Painting inhibitions feels like a higher art. Not on your life, would it be wise to bet, on any prognostication or even divination. Certain regret mars most definitive findings, but I wouldn't wish to make claim to any of those anyhow. It's much easier being misunderstood. Leaves me out of the loop. Hardly, would any wish the full scoop. After all, most of what is said and done, will be forgotten. Likely, never even initially heard. So, leave me no word, of remembrance. I'm fast approaching my own confines of extremity.

Hollowness came of lightning strike
long before my meeting
that *****, muscular oak. It was
always that way. I knew no different
of it.

Its charred orifice spoke of
an interloper,
an intruder whose presence
carved fire within,
creating sooty vacuity.

Marvelous survival instinct however,
shown by this tree's greening
each Spring, taught me
perseverance. My own lightning
strikes to be weathered as well,
but perhaps not with as much ardor.

Vehemence and passion can still
live within internal voids.
I have witnessed many furry
and feathered creatures raise brood
from the scarred hole of that oak.
How is it I know this is good?

For a fuzzy feeling of wonder,
still somehow stirs reliance in
desire outside this emptiness.

I see the reflection of light
in the critter's eyes which emerges
from darkness which has kept
it safe. Yet now, hunger encourages
it to roam from its dwelling.

Am I the same?

On my way to the museum, a tall slender youth showed off to me. He daringly leapt, pummeling himself in an articulated half twist over an iron gate I was passing. This gymnastic feat was finished facing me from other side of fence. The glimmered wink he left me with had an added curl to one side his lip. That told me my own look of astonishment, to this out-of-nowhere acrobatic display, was just the reaction this young man had expected. Peculiar this is, as it brings a thought mission to mind. Exactly what I should find when I get to the museum, may never equal what happenstance just threw in front of me. So I return home, to paint a picture instead.

Lightning bugs sing a lullaby for deaf
Off in fields casting twinkling rhythm
This music for eyes; swooping treble clef
Silent visual serenade, I dancing with’thm

Struck by illuminate flickers
How it is in court of mating
Notion that insects must also dicker
Pas de deux of crawlies dating

So I glow
And there
I go

Somebody got some diethylstilbestrol?
Just started my moon
Plus words that rhyme within themselves
Are a super hot turn on
Which is exactly for what this is prescribed
Don’t box it in ladies
May be circumcised, but won’t be circumscribed
Well fancy that, two words
With another little naughty word right inside
Whew! It’s hot and sticky
Hand over a popsicle too, would ya Dahlin’
Havin’ a mind melt
Time for this child to get imbibed

Tell elms, "clock's tics move fast past tocs
bring out the greenery, push past buds."
I've waited too long  
and Spring is too short.
Aluminum siding has capsized
and I am sunk too far in this rut.
Toenails have begun taking root.
Impoverished tin can town, with feral cats  
better fed on mice and sparrows,
releases its billowing film
from trash-to-steam chimneys.
And septic pea soup drips from sky,
so tell elms, "Hurry!"
Blot out pestilential reality  
of this deadly poverty
with green places the sparrows might nest.
I will keep safe the mice.

As I am, I growl with hunger
As I lust, my musk malodorous
I do, as though the thunder
Confess my will shall so oppress

It’s a drive my eyes are fixed upon
The scampering of the lemmings
My fangs blood and phlegm do don
No intelligence worth condemning

It is life for which I fight
The ***** becomes my prowling
My need to breed a might
Her moon begins my howling

I claw my way through darkness
Scavenging morsels to find
Eyes that perceive a bark lest
Be indicative of my kind

Dauntlessness may be indicative of strangest courage
Who shall say; those rushing to battle?
Oblivious youth prodded off like blank beef cattle
Dare I dispel bravest image; hero for time and peerage
No mother wants her son minced, poured into porridge

Good intention don't be blinded by noble cause
Nobility see no ill harm in poor's sacrifice
Do they offer their own; O when will it suffice?
To abandon war, to give thought, to give pause
Why be meat within richest men's jaws?

Let heroism gain spirit of more peaceful prowess
Join broad-minded, leave dull herd
Who directs minds in this theater of absurd?
Corporations and government alliances boundless
Don't be a cow and don't find yourself powerless

Who shall find intermittent song?
...of reason wrong ...of time so lent
Who could position themselves to be
... lark in tree? ... one heaven sent?

Audacity to find in peace of mind
... words so kind ... yet ever untrue
Convince me now of lies so bold
... so very cold ... never more undue

Lie to me till eminent death
... with sweet breath ... in toiled rest
Sing to me great love accolade
... make fine charade ... fibbing best

Do this in pity, I shall bequeath
... a laurel wreath ... a poet's song
Precious days numbered in ways
... testament blaze ... schooling wrong

Consider final pathetic beseeching
... it's own bequeathing ... riled begging
Harden heart to own such phrases
... this last lying day .. is mild *******

... it won't hold on without you

Connecting night's dots of lights
I'm so often left bewildered
If I could, I surely should
Travel Milky Way unfiltered
Squishing aglow to dim although
These wantings have been pilfered
By blur of light from this night
And another man's wish differed
Star snatched crime, so sublime
Nothing and all considered

Plain as day is this nudist camp,
except for that shimmering
glittered one. Thank the gods for him.

Bare wooden bunks and no shortage
of spiders. Not hard to imagine
what crawls up between
planks and cracks. I won't sleep
tonight. Gonna shoot some Roman
candles, put on my own show.

Dip into the lake to escape
all the dust. Hanging some privacy
sheets around my hammock,
might keep ol' cheddar cheese toes
from lurking about. Seems to be
a fixture here. Poor fella won't take
a hint, but I'm not that charitable.

Battalions of bats will storm
from an old mine shaft at dusk,
opposite side of the lake. If I can
get glitter boy to follow me, he
may run shrilling into my arms.

I guess I'm as bad as
ol' cheddar cheese toes.

Holographic stew
With notes of hippie ****
Served from coconut ladles
Into your banana leaf bowl
A gift from Guru Gabigoo
For feeling his essence
He wants you to know
We are a family of light
And he is the beacon
And his light reflects through us
And if your eyes feel like spirographs
And you feel like you're going to *****
Don't worry
It's just the mushroom curry taking effect
You will feel better in a few hours
Just relax
Go with the flow
We're your family now
We love you
That is
As long as you sign here
Relinquishing your life savings
And any material possessions
Such as jewelry, stocks or bonds
Cars, deeds, access to any trust funds
And/or checking accounts
Have you tasted the Kool-Ade?
It's really cool
You should try some

Brother PJ

Squawks of terror from
mother and child,
a scene never making Hitchcock's
final cut. Competing gulls flap,
swoop,
kamikazi dive bomb
for fallen fried clams. Boardwalkers smeared
in cocktail sauce and blue cotton candy
sweet and sticky. Shrills sounding,
"kitta-wa-aaakee, kitta-wa-aaakee"
as wings slap in spun sugary goo.
She is tarred and feathered.
Gull down! Gull down!
Weekend warriors in Atlantic City
never saw it coming.

The sea wind whips westward
and ocean regurgitates all matter
of gunk. Tampons, syringes, punctured
floaties in shapes of ducks and dragons,
it is ever there
in the gleaming reflection of casinos,
for homeless veterans
to scavenge upon.

Even wounded gulls eat better.

These nightmares carry out raids to plunder
On hope, devils’ reft pardon no still sleep
Monkeyshines torment, hiding covers under
From this sly world, such vanities deep
Underlying psyche’s destitute creep

Poverty-stricken, a strike against strife
Societies pick at loser’s lasting faith
Incising to bone comes butcher’s knife
Mental breakdowns kneel to a wraith
All is true the great God saith!

Hot pepper nightmares come clean, sobering cleanse to it. Drunk  
you delete from tiresome attachments, and your Friend's List.
Wino's duplicitous failing, while crowing away her merits for giving  
up crack, glugging down another. Harm reduction is not to be  
confused with sobriety. Don't get me wrong, I am not a tea-totalitarian, but I can see when a ***** is shoveling away.

This one I will miss. Most endearing has been this lioness' steamy exhales. Roasted internet exchanges, and toasting of overall thermionic lifestyles. She was a good one, reliable and dedicated to truth-telling in that sneaking-in tall-tales fashion. Yet, I can't sweat it out any longer. Her heat scorns clouds of sizzling pollution. When one is roasting the hottest of hot peppers, it can become hard to breathe. She needed to be taken off the grill, for sake of my own sanity.

Perhaps, I'll re-visit her, after she's been bottled up and cured.

Peering through the curtains
Leering at my *****
Boy next door uncertain
Eyes find mine and join

Breath upon the window
Death in cerebral find
Wanting willing syndrome
How we like in kind

Innocence is further lost
An instance unforgotten
Once shared, soon be tossed
Our friendship misbegotten

Certain kinetics are involved when one needs to drain water from the ears. Poolside, you see freshly moistened swimmers bounce, when the laps are over. Head shaking and pinkie probing, along with vigorous jiggling may shimmy a pop of the slurry. It's a pleasing, almost orgasmed, satisfaction. Such accomplishments in life seem trivial, but for something stuck out of place for too long, that releasing can be ecstatic. I figure when this reservoir of penned up annoyances, breaks through the dammed existence I live presently, that surge may jettison and squirt from my head like centrifugal lawn sprinkler. A coming of such the world has never seen.

As I am absorbed  
in ol' buttermilk sky,
I stand ***** whilst my bare  
feet skim neighbor's roof.
I'm pulled west, up. Setting sun
fans rays. Here, I am emitted
in nebulosity.  

I care not what
hankerings loosened, let go,
drift back to earth,
to rosy, lilied yard  
where chain link encumbered.
Clinical conclusion drawn
in misty misconception
no longer.
Intrinsic am I as air.

Spread my molecules
in scintilla of light. Yes,
even into gray of smog,
as I must admit,
to ***** parts. These
may rain acidic intrusions
in your backyard. Too  
much to assimilate?

I never asked for  
what rained in mine.
No impurities
have been intended.
Still, I must emit.
My sky awaits.
Catching next cloud out.