backpacking in the Jefferson wilderness
eating fresh wild blueberries
warmed by a late spring sun
the crystal blue sky captures me
and I stand, transfixed –
How could we have collectively been so blind?
pumping Co2 into the atmosphere
dropping atomic bombs
and an atoll
named after a bikini…
and the plastic island –
A wispy cirrus cloud
floats gracefully overhead
and takes my thoughts
on a journey
distant smokestacks dot the horizon
and drilling platforms stand menacingly
just beyond the shore,
and inside the bellies of sea creatures …
the plastic –
readjusting my pack
and leaning over to re-tie my shoestrings
the slow crawl of an ant packing lunch
sends me reeling
so many hungry children
just in the state I live
hopeless and *****
in run down or condemned houses
waiting, with tear streaked cheeks
for someone to show up with dinner
as the third foodless day
is always the hardest –

once, in a bramble thicket
a young lad found himself
accosted
she was older than he
freer than the bees
and while on her knees
made a man of him –
looking back at a lifetime
full of indiscretion
and physical meetings
fleeting greetings
and their beating of my meat
I’m beat –
Not large enough for ****,
but, born with a gift of satisfaction
as it is in their excitement
that pleasure is derived
a man of no equal measure –
squeaking freaks seeking to be discrete
needed to meet my meat
but alas, it is too late
as I am now complete –
no longer bound by *******
or enslaved at the rave’s
foundling of happiness
as one other human,
the perfect one,
is better than years
of sharing ****
with the masses –

you think I don’t live
hip hop
in my drop top
boy, I’ll slap a cop
for messin wit my
organic crop
I got’s hogs to slop
fruit is starting to drop
rabbits ears are lopped
still, I got time to rock
see I
write rhymes all the time
mostly in my mind
helps me to unwind
when I smoke the kind
like a real balla
dog don’t need a
shock colla
he listens when I holla
I like to gives the bums a dolla
that **** makes me feel bangin
while my ******* swangin
Am I entertaining? –

Cause I‘ll never be mainstream
never learned to silk screen
5th wheel, Slipstream
Pajamas on, a *******
I’ll never be mainstream –

See I
don’t own a gun
shoot my mouth off
just for fun
never eat a wheat bun
not a celiac,
just don’t want none
****’s come undone
solar flare
from the sun
life weighin like a ton
smashed flat on the ground, son
but I
get back up ya’ll
no time to fall
harvest in the Fall
watch the water-fall
like the politicians ya’ll –

I will never be mainstream
wont listen to yo kids scream
buy those ******* ice cream
all up in the sun beam
I’m never bein mainstream –

Ya’ll, I cant wait to own
acreage and a home
space for my dogs to roam
hide those muthafukka’s bones
or maybe I will buy a cow
work with a horse and plow
homeboy’s, the time is now
gotta get a loan somehow
so I pay off all my back debt
save some cash for
a down pay-ment
so I don’t got’s to pay no rent
life will be so different --

and I will never be mainstream
create power with my own stream
use my cow to get milk and cream
this **** isn’t just a dream
boy, I will never be mainstream --

wood-grain finish, extra varnish
tarnished button tipped to the right.
fighting urges surging through blue
undoing years of misdirection
unprotected table top dulled sits dusty
rusted nails protruding slightly
nightly visits from the drunken
stunk up pressboard with cigar and beer
nearly every inch a memory
chemistry to delivery
eating so many family meals
dealing cards and outlining plans
landing strip for wayward model airplanes
painfully, I carry it out to the burn pile
smiling slightly as a piece of history
mysteriously drifts away as smoke –

looking to make the jump
from anonymous to influential
based on mad writing skills
and the ability to be rare and unusual –
many long years the daily toil has worn my psyche
now, frayed nerves blend with crippling paranoia
and I peer through bent mini-blinds
at a society devoid of cultural norms  
choosing instead to discriminate
against their brothers –
quietly slipping back into the shadow
only the whites of my eyes can be seen in the din
I feel the cold steel leaning gently against the door-jam
reaffirming to myself
I will not be taken alive –
crayon wax candles drip
pooling on matted **** carpet
trapping a flea
and capturing my attention –
we all sit trapped in poisonous wax
floundering against the weight of the next droplet
coated for all eternity –

enunciating, conversationally
the opposite of yelling at a foreigner
only wishing to be heard
while maintaining my distance from the herd
self-assured closet nerd
flipping the bird yelling
word
to all my muthafukkas
the late night ruckus causes my focus to shift
drifting aimless I try to digress
but elementary recess memories
have me needing to confess long held secret rendezvous
the south bleacher blues
and clues to what this all means…
obscenely, I expect you to follow
and wallow a while here with me
only wishing to be heard
while maintaining my distance from the herd
late model Panel, three channels
aftermarket handle, scandal with Randel
and the move that opened the world
girls and shotgun squirrels, two lucky pearls
and the swirly, I’m sorry…
one black eye. the year of fry. crystal **** high
flying over Wah-Chang sludge ponds
drawing power from the universal force and a
pretty smile
only wishing to be herd
while maintaining my distance from the herd
meeting resistance with distance running
cunningly shunning become a man
planning on dying junked up
canned heat, Sterno and Dante’s Inferno
stomach churning when lacking the black
west coast ****** flunking straight life
lost little girl, I’m sorry…
burnt up rhymer scheming miner
trying to unwind, blindly, but kindly
only wishing to be herd
while maintaining my distance from the heard
flash fire, perspiring liar in dire need of a sign
crime pile out of style ******* wilding
free range beguiler husting that 20 dollar
wellness balloon
buffoonery…. T’was June, you see,  when it spoke to me
the year before two thousand and three
granting thee
needle freedom
preachy?
Peach Tea?
just like every other fish in the ******* sea………
………………………
…….
only wishing to be heard
while maintain my distance from the herd

the sun shown scarlet on the shore
and the day faded away
small feet sunk slow into wet sand
as they too seemed to fade
wavy hair tossed playfully
in the cool evening breeze
and the last moment of sunlight hit her eyes
I stood transfixed –
with seeming deliberateness, she turned her gaze
and I felt pieces of my heart crumble
falling within my chest cavity
finding rest only in the soles of my worn shoes
a word caught in my throat
bringing moisture to my eyes
it was then she looked back at my face –
wishing there were words to descried the beauty
I could only smile and extend my hand
placing her tiny pale fingers
into my rough and calloused hands
a love filled me
that I thought was reserved for fairy tales –
Each new day I remember
thirteen years of these moments
and as the sun shines brightly through my window
I smile knowingly
as there are so many more to come –

Realizing my emotional connectedness,
I lay, flat backed, on rich dark soil
soaking the energy into myself
of the land that birthed me.
Engorged on unity
the song of the larks
speak openly of insect movements
and hungry and crying children;
the slight rustle of a deer mouse
breaks the trance,
only to send me spiraling
into ***** holes with furry floors
and a pile of babies
nourished on mother’s milk.
Ultra-violet rays penetrate deep
and my reddening skin swells
as the cosmos attempts to infiltrate
and expand me beyond my body…
I explode.
Flashing tree bodies blur
as I, propelled forth, recognize
this is flight…
glancing to the left I see feathered wings
beating frantically
altering ever so gently our trajectory
I settle on a nest edge.
Regaining my senses,
I look atop an old snag
to see the focused eye
of the hawk looking back at me,
we share the moment
as we share the forest.

she hides behind lies
crying eyes try to smile
lost in a world of ghosts
and love, conditional
from across the room
I feel an energy shift
as the imagined pressure
hits critical
once again we have liftoff
followed by irritation and excuses
bad feelings and emotional strain
and for what…..
a few lines of silliness
pasted to a social media network
deflating friendships
with guile and pizazz

where is my country going…
I remember thinking it was silly to say the pledge
standing behind my desk
hand over heart
mindlessly repeating phrases that had no real meaning
to an eight year old sensibility.
It is easy to recall the small logging town
with its white population
shaking angry fists at the owl people
bearded and free in their environmental fervor
chained to trees
where we liked to fish.
Those blessed with political mindedness
have sold their moral and ethical compasses
to the corporate welfare and personhood gang
giving the populace the shaft
without **** or sweet kisses.
I watch my country fall apart….helpless –
Long lines surround the peephole
and the citizens of America clamor
near riotous
to see what the celebrity flavor of the day
is wearing, doing, being,
and having
subjugating themselves to emotional slavery
for the sake of a starlit.
Gone are the communities
in which a child is spoken kindly too
by a stranger diligently working his or her
plot of ground;
today he is accused or premeditating *******
for being personable.
Feelings of discontent rise like bile
burning my throat, and giving the back of my mouth
hot spit…a precursor to *****
as I watch another liar
step up to the pulpit of power
and spout propaganda
designed to manipulate my personality
into a more malleable pawn
in this nation of despair.

retracing footsteps these shoes never traveled
connecting to a lifestyle
I have never experienced
I see myself in pages of Native American texts
experiencing a oneness with the land
which birthed me
and sustains me to this day –
it is in the simple actions of nature
that I derive peace
seeking to be as balanced as the tree
never tipping despite the wind and rain
to be as honest as the predator
only killing to live, sleeping secluded
it is in this way of being
that I find myself for the first time
looking to belong –
I sit in the pasture
surrounded by the sounds of bees
fixated on the outlined mountains in the distance
and it occurs to me
I am at church
and this moment is what religion looks like for me –

sunlight glistens off latticed steel
one inch by one inch diamonds
a succulent sits in a window
open three inches
enough for a slight breeze
to permeate the drudgery –
body odor mingles
with ancient brickwork
as the ball sweat cheese wafts
through the narrow halls
encountering so much foot fungi
creating a medley of stenches
only partially conducive to learning –
the ever-present clacking of keyboards
qwerty in their fashion
keeps the static rustle of my radio muffled
but barely enough to be less distracting
that a lifetime of bad choices
and the damnable math GED test --

void watching
daydream state
akin to hallucination
enfolds me and I float away
transposing imagination
for reality based life
my cells expand and contract as the ocean
blood flows as the amazon
and I expand
neural pathways elongate
and spiral into galaxies
sparking light years apart
as the information soaks in
I am all
and so are you –

I am not here for accolades
hearts, notifications, messages
this place is a way to develop
hone skills and become better
I appreciate the love
but would rather have
real editing interactions
based on critically critiquing
and attempting to re-create ourselves
into the greats of tomorrow…. or today –
I find it difficult
to read piece after piece
love poem after love poem
discrediting my landscape
though so much fodder
very few truly grab my attention
and in complete honesty
the first 5 lines decide if I continue my read –
I am a poet
lamenting, sullen, fixated on despair
enthralled by beauty
natural and interpersonal
devastated by incompleteness
and ……..
it would be nice to hit 50 followers ;)

blessed with blemish-less-ness
the ole warhorse decided a new dawn
was upon us all
and dawned a frock of silky white
to grace the cover
as a lady of glamour
instead of the epitome
of masculinity –
decathlete hero in drag
or
a lifelong sufferer of gender
uncertainty
either way
today we have Caitlyn
a vision of beauty
with a funny little scar –

regional dissidence marked by ****** exchanges
tempered anger lends itself to psychotic episodes
and the children lay in gulley’s attempting to remain hidden –
shattered glass crashes onto unpaved streets
complete with ditches dug to expedite waste removal
as the filth of a nation runs freer than the citizenry –
enter technological gods bringing stories of prosperity
visions of democracy and unity begin to shape in the heart and minds
or so they tell themselves so sleep will find them –
battered emotions bubble to the surface of faces
pressed hard against stained glass doorways
fleeting images of food strewn tables and shoes un-holed
dance across impoverished and diseased brains
incapable of self-supporting, they line tourists spots
holding shabby signs and juggling rocks for pennies
brandished with the gentleman who claims slave freedom –
desert boarders separate families languishing for acknowledgement
true Americans generationally linked to the very soil
toil in agricultural hell as whites get fat
on the backs of today’s slave system  
immigrant workers bury loved ones on the edges of factory farms
saying Catholic prayers to a corporate god
most well known for being the root of child molestation –
cartel kingpins hire babies to mule ******
DEA agents load them into vans destined for the inner city
As the forever war against minorities takes yet another turn –

pain takes hold again
and I sit disturbed
not understanding why
I feel like such **** –
looking at 40 years
of systematic body abuse
from the hardest drugs
to the worst foods
lack of regular exercise
mingled with attitude –
irritated joints combine
with a furrowed brow
and crooked teeth
to create an image
of despair and anguish
as I attempt again
to rebuild this mess
into a prize of humanity –
silver whiskers and a stigmatism
misshapen nostril
and a **** chin
look back from the
cracked mirror
I am inferior –
beating myself up
over a belly devoid of beer
and the ever thinning
and receding hairline
I no longer feed my ego
as it sits starving
and neglected
rejected by the woes of aging –
enraged and feeling caged
I desire to fly free with Mya
but death is no repose
only an entry into the next phase
is existence really worth the trouble –
lamenting has taken its toll
and feeling like a whiney *****
I make the quick decision
to stop this nonsense --

reaching out my nervous hand
I met my first “real” poet
excitedly I introduced myself
wanting desperately for him to know my name
but for a better reason

even the greatest artist produces trash
so what chance did I have?
an assignment gone astray
turned into a meeting I will
never
     forget

I attempted to recreate drivel
and succeeded beyond compare
eventually turning myself into a goat
complete with horns and an attitude
I just hope redemption
can find the non-Christian

many little moments comprise this ride we call ‘life’
some inconsequential
some life-altering and forever remembered
……….I wonder which today’s will be

the mood,
influenced by the slightest breeze
changes with each gracefully passing cloud
sunlight waxes and wanes
bringing complaints
from ray worshippers

Ray looks up from his newspaper, startled
“Leave me outta this,” he says.

returning to the electric sky
my mind replaces cumulus clouds
with floating sea foam
churning in the wake
children body surfing
right over the top of a resting
Sting-Ray

Again, Ray looks up more sternly
“Knock it off!” he yells.

casting my thoughts back to the blue
a new vision rises from the ether
of soft tones and melodic tunes
of a gravelly voice
and the most marvelous ballrooms

Ray jumps up and shouts,
“Do NOT make a Ray Charles stanza!”

sheepishly, I move on to a new subject

she looked down at the dog’s cancerous paw
rubbing again the medicated salve
produced from politicized plant material
and a little ole American knowhow
a slight grumble escapes his floppy jowls

the ever-present battle against carcinogens
as, daily, we breathe what fukushima offers
and drink fluoridated water
while pesticides may as well be considered
a nutritional supplement

she reaches down and pats a greying head absentmindedly
from 68 lbs. back to 110
one year and seven months of cannabis oil
has given us a new lease
on an old dog

visions of my mother in the end-of-life care facility bed
stuffing pounds into capsules to grant life
falling short when it was needed most
four months and 12 days ago
I couldn’t do for her what I did for my dog

she takes the old man out to the field adjacent our home
he runs and bounds
stops to munch grass
and roll around on the green he cannot see
the green rolls around in my head
as I cannot see either

what will we do about the jams,
and what became of the wing…
and the wing naturally leads to the bird
it can be in the *** or head
and of course Steve Prefontaine….
we can with friends
and sometimes punch has it….
when Sinatra sang it sounded pleasant enough
and my grandmother used to get one right out of it
addicts who want better are faced with the decision
and a moose can **** a wolf…llamas and coyotes could work here too
the children’s cereal uses an “x”
and this poem deserves to be sent to the curb….
the amazing power
of the
kick –

try as they might
I see through smokescreens
into darkness
and through walls –
gifted with secret sight
I am unable to watch newscasts
without seeing biased framing
I cannot listen to political ramblings
without being inundated
by lies, deceit, and underhanded ball-washing
this is my lot
…and I accept it –
still, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention
the never ending pain experienced by those of us
gifted this way,
we never really live satisfied
as our contemporaries all flounder
lost in illusion…
we find ourselves unable to relate
to the society that created us
as our evolutionary path
surpasses the ordinary --

A black speckled brown thrush
warbles while sitting atop an old decrepit greying wooden fence post
off, in the distance, stands (barely)
a barn that ceased to be functional at the turn of the prior century.
Faded wood, splintering, shows exposed nail heads
rusty and oxidized… perfect to pull at a wayward summer dress
or perhaps catch and tear the skin
of the playing child lost in imagination.
Brambles climb and creep up dilapidated walls
giving the illusion that this manmade object
sprung forth from the berry bushes
as if it were mutated fruit or maybe an exposed root system.
The low constant buzz of mud wasps
diligently building nests in eves
drowns out the sounds of jets flying overhead,
the occasional tick lights gently upon untreated skin
and desperately begins clawing its way
to a hairy spot in a darkened area.
Underneath misshapen cuts of plywood
three coiled garden racers sit in the cool
waiting with infinite patience
for the tiny shrew or mouse youth
to make a mad dash
meal time comes irregular on warm May afternoons.

hurtful words and sarcasm
are given freely to facebook and twitter
an attempt to combat lunacy
becoming the purveyor of crazy
in a land of madmen
my crown cuts deeper than any ole thorn –
self-righteousness oozing from open sores and oil clogged pores
tis a snore
for the ******
they gather in droves, old ***’s lost in blow
both ******* and **** *******
I watch sickened, unable to curb my stare –
wave after wave of useless children
forgotten by the culture that forced their births
adorn sidewalks greedily holding out ***** fingers
begging for patriotic flavored candy
brightly packaged
hiding the poisons
brilliantly –
the brain dead society at large shuffles worn shoes
across roadways littered with magazine advertisements
and perfume samples
blind to their arrogance
building new homes on yesterday’s landfills
tearing down school houses of the past
for robotic manufacturing canters
….. I’ll not be riding the eternal hamster wheel without a fight –

unable to shake this slight pain in my head
it has become as consistent as the rising and falling tide
looking at crystals and tea leaves unread
seeking a new place of perception in which to reside
doing my best to avoid getting caught up in dread
feeling myself peeling apart like toilet paper, multi-plied
attempting to maintain what’s left of my street cred
eyes puffy from crying after my mother went and died
seeing dignity flee leaving me not even a shred
no one notices how hard I have tried
never once being the man who turned tail and fled
thinking back to the moment when so softly she sighed
my crassness overflowing cracking jokes about the ******
seeing the anger flash across eyes fit to be tied
grasping for something to prevent a trip to the woodshed
a long piece of kindling, seasoned Maple, and wide
giving me something to think about before bed –

meandering stream of consciousness
flowing this way and that
without substance or context
just fleeting images of fantasy and memory
veritable hodgepodge of indiscriminate
out of the blur solid ideas begin to take shape
formless visions develop hard edges
as I slip deeper into the ether
aided by copious amounts of
ingestible cannabis  
and the belief that I am one
with the universe –
long dead relatives guide me
down pastel paths of cotton
as we float through and past
holographic pyramids
still stained from blood sacrifice
travelling faster and with purpose
tracers elongate
giving the illusion of streaming ribbons of neon
stretching in all directions
geometricizing the skyline
reminding me of the chemtrails
back in reality –

election cycle returns
and the returns are in
no one gives a ****
about economic downturns
or pacific trade agreements
built to further gut
the Amerikkkan dream
Honey Boo-Boo lost eight pounds –
wingless welchers tirade over lost causes
causing the public to collectively *****
only racial injustice strikes cords
or the ever popular threat to children
outside of that, the general consensus
is to give the Dugger ******
a second chance –
guns for drugs
bombs fall on Bagdad
homosexual agenda
the imaginary scourge
melds with marijuana laws
giving the conservatives pause
but only until the Letterman finale –
sightless masses spoon fed by multimedia
millionaires
much maligned in the middle
misrepresented and mismanaged
mean well
but they have given over control
to the television set –

spotlight on the injustice
nationwide racial profiling
reliving civic unrests and marches leading to nowhere
the broken back of the black American shines white in the desert sun
and all of our blood is red when exposed to air –
feeling helpless and slightly lethargic
I shield my eyes from reality
looking instead at the unicorn and fairy forest of humanities youth
when magic ruled
and not on a card table –
faithless monuments dot the horizon
symbolizing a people’s fall from grace
and the loss of ethic and morality –
my hands vibrate with anger
as I am helpless to fight
against the enemy that is my skin
and a war that is based in my country –

in moments of clarity
the rarified air seems to envelope my consciousness
sending my thoughts reeling into an abyss of non-specific tangents
grasping at imaginary straws
in an open attempt at understanding
the multitude of voices –
surrounded in an empty room
the unsureness creeps in slow at first
like the lightest snow accumulation
on a slightly warmed roadway,
then at once faster
as if it were a waterfall carrying flood debris
a tumbling torrent of sounds
all from within –
unable to separate reality from the inner din,
I take the shape of a fetus
rocking to the rhythm
of voices no one else can hear –

flaccid pacifists symbolizing sexism
single-mindedly corrupting hostile youth
ruining bullying and facilitating inbreeding
through top-down initiatives laced with bath salts
the pussify-ing of America has begun –
tear soaked cheeks distort with rage
at the blatant separatist ideals propagated
creating not one nation under rule of law,
but many angry independent states bent on torture laws  
and privatized prison for profit
shareholders holding gavels and lives
in an unjust system of justification
……they deserve this –
broken-hearted mothers line razor-wire fences
defenseless against the tyrannical bureaucracy
beholden to the loved one wrongly incarcerated
banging bloodied fists against walls that hear no cries,
defeated, they slip into damaged Datsun’s disappearing
freeway anonymity is the course of the day –

recollecting collections projecting selections injecting protection infection dejection
dyslexic narcoleptic rejecting dejections ******* complexion complicating interjections
perplexed inspectors intercept pterodactyls relaxing in backpacks extracting disillusion
contortionist philanthropist dejected transgression implementing eradications of moss buying patrons
eclectic perfectionist rests limp-wristed whispering disparaging remarks to the wait staff
trombone percussionist impressed and impoverished gravelling wistfully mimicking Rickles
I sit half disheveled grinding my wisdom teeth feeling the fleeting muse sitting in disbelief –

sunlight creeps from behind intermediate cloud cover
above the stratocumulus, trails crisscross
giving a geometry to the affair
a barley discernable silver thread
reaches out from my belly button
and stretches into the heavens above –
feeling myself fall backwards to the ground
I am simultaneously...instantaneously
shot, as if from a circus cannon, up
recognizing my three-hundred sixty degree field of vision
I helplessly watch my body fade from view –
surrounded in ermine fur softness
and basking in a warm orange light
I visit the cosmos
travelling beyond relativity laws, universes collide
birth themselves and form life again
all the while a nagging distracts the journey –
strobe light ****** inside a mirrored room
flashback acid trip melted Datsun at sunrise
fathers body, emaciated and lifeless
wall of flesh filling double French doors  
not a crack or fold to be seen –
cold dog nose pushes my hand and brings my back to what we perceive as real
smiling to myself
I think about the amazing things I will see when dead –

watched grains dance playfully
affixed to lengthy golden stalks
the wind sways them gracefully
in-between a hidden world unlocks –
pink-footed mice run
well-trodden paths
the warm summer sun
never granting them baths –
shiny black crickets chirp in the night
while grasshoppers eat through the day
an occasional rabbit scurries with fright
and ant colonies seemingly play –
a dust covered floor
‘neath a ceiling of blue
in the middle, a ruffed hawk soars
striking fear in the heart of a shrew –
nobody suspects the vastness of life
when passing by in their car
the joys of birth, hunger and strife
within a wheat field under the stars –

fat-backed rat finks
roller rink
kitchen sink
thinking back to Corporal Klinger
and Klingons in small thongs
smoking star ship bongs
in a smelly pond
broken wand only sparks slightly
mightily I try to be
free from discriminatory flees
I sit on the floor and be
quiet as a church mouse
in the glass house built by my
light-skinned spouse,
the louse trounced
pouncing on the bouncing ball
falling into the dousing mall
desert grouse espousing rabble-rousers  
in denim trousers
holding perennial flowers
while the gourd towers
bow their heads to the sunset
vetted Reds in beds of lead
break bread with the dead
instead of raking fall leaves
betting on getting let out
cloutless louts just about shout to be heard
and the herd moves forward
every methodically –

Flippantly, I stroll unencumbered
absentmindedly watching the clouds shift
both in direction and form
much like the movement within these words
never sure in which direction they may turn
even now anticipation mounts
as expectations soar
……..sadly
I have nothing to say –

For perfect fudge use marshmallow
Fluffy white and soft as the snow
Boil butter til almost clear
A sweeter treat you’d never know

So much sugar gets poured in here
dash of vanilla at the rear
don’t need an oven, it’s no bake
grab me the parchment paper, dear

any treat or peppermint flake
can be added, it will not break
if you buy, it is not so cheap
better homemade, like baking cake

it’s worth the effort, take the leap
a double batch will make a heap
you’ll be a hero with your peeps
……you’ll be a hero with your peeps