Somewhere there's a million and a half spirits dying,
one's a black magic woman,
casting spells for all the rest.

I confess,
I'm naive about such things,
the dark arts,
things that go bump in the night.
But can one in a million and a half
be wrong?

Teach me tricks,
burn me a candle,
I need you badly
sinful woman!

Cool breezes on deck
under the Southern Cross
her twinkling-eyes

Madeline walked around acting
like people were following her,
her head swung on a swivel,
displaying her torn skin
& scratching invisible insects,
she sometimes
spoke hollow words
through cracked lips
with missing chipped
brown teeth.

Her face was pocked
with sores not acne,
all of her ribs showed
through yellow spandex,
walked on black spikes,
the azure feather boa
didn’t match her
outfit.

She flashed her ****
& wiggled her hips
shouting,
“Wanna **** mes?”
at passing motorists.
That **** was a sad scene,
less than serene,
sirens blaring on Roses.

There once was a spaceman
Who crafted many a ship
He lined them all up
And filled them with kids
Plotted their courses
And gave them good sense
And 10,000 years later
They completed their trips

They depleted their planets
And planted a script
Escaping back home
In tow the whole bit
Proudly abundant
They had all hit it rich
And Noahn was brimming
With the pride of success

Though he lost very few
To stress or neglect
His ships were a many
So many did miss
And some kids were abandoned
But they are building a bridge
Back to the blackness
Where Noahn once lived

A wildflower gently springs forth to bloom
The pedals a darkened shade of maroon
And as I watch this from my darkened room
The night will come and swallow it to soon
The pedals of the flower start to close
And then it disappears into the ground
Where it goes, I'm afraid nobody knows
I know I don't, I hope it stays around
It grows underneath the oldest Oak tree
That any man hath ever laid eyes on
I will go there and fall on to my knees
And gently weep because the flowers gone
Overnight, sank into the moistened dirt
But I now appreciate Natures worth

Constantly it seems,
I squeeze luscious fruit,
kiss hardened-tips
& find myself
in compromising positions
with your penetrating pretty-eyes.

I'm sure I must
be sweet-dreaming,
'cause I wake up
empty in the morning,
mind & my body,
spent & smiling.

Staring in darkness
Crickets play the sweetest tunes
June needs to come soon

We just woke up
near a river in Winnipeg.
I swear
she's following me in my dreams,
she knows I'm a sinner.

We locked ourselves
in suspended animation,
me on top,
strictly missionary,
kissing her like no tomorrow,
fully engaged in her **** spirit.

She is definitely God's creation,
his alignment of the planets
allowed us to circumvent
the natural order.

I attacked her from every angle,
the sound of her moistness
& our glorious movements
were louder than
the gurgling waters
outside our tent.

It seemed like hours,
but in a matter of minutes,
our dams burst
in an explosion
unrivaled in this hemisphere.

I have no fear of ghosts now,
her stunning apparition
can awaken me anytime
to break me, to feel
my warm waters flow.

Lord knows she's listening
from the stars above,
twinkling her magic
& receiving cascading
pleasure from me.

Swirling thoughts of her
electrify my entire body.
I'm buzzing here,
from my head
all the way down
to my toes.
I visualize every
square centimeter
of her,
so enticing,
this hot-vision,
when her hands become
mine & I explore her,
count every freckle,
disappear inside her soul.
These thoughts
& frenzied-actions
make me whole,
especially when
I shake,
share my steam
in this dreamy-state.