steady battle of wills
mine against the culture
society at large
waiting for the return
of an imaginary friend –
visions of the Christ-head
waking Christians with a start
yet the image they see
is a white hippy
long flowing locks
and washboard abs
blue eyed devil
was what the natives called that image –
if Jesus were real
and the gospel, truth
then woolen hair
bronze skinned
north African
negros
would be visiting people nightly
giving them images of peace
and transcendence –
yet the visions these Christians are having
is of the rapture
is the end of days
of themselves being covered in joy
and carried away
by the loving god of old…
but it is the blue eyed devil
sending these signals –
I spent two years
in full research mode
then, 25 years of revisiting
so I could effectively combat
the religious intolerance I see around me
learning the scripture
not for love of Jesus
but for contempt of his hypocrite followers
now, I watch in awe
awestricken
as it is in fact an awesome thing
to think that a group of individuals
could persecute their brethren
based on race, ***, gender,
class, tattoos, piercings, abortions,
differing ideology, ice cream flavor,
car style, bank of choice, haircut,
military service, church participation,
education, geographic birth place…
I could go on
and on
and on…
……………………..
the larger point
is that the sermon on the mount
accepts everyone as blessed
the message of Jesus is one of acceptance
and tolerance
of love, and of heaven everlasting
for those who follow that message…..
sorry American Christian
with your prophetic visions
brought to you by a
blue eyed devil,
you picked the wrong horse –

razor cuts like glass
crimson red flow
razor cuts like glass

pressing on the gas
middle of the road
razor cuts like glass

Catholics at mass
putting on a show
razor cuts like glass

teenage love in the ***
time to learn to blow
razor cuts like glass

dying in the grass
waiting  until the mow
razor cuts like glass

prayers to those who pass
freedom now to go
razor cuts like glass
razor cuts like glass

~
Tangled mass of briers
chokes the trailhead leading into
a dark forest with echoing calls;
a ****** ***** wildly and their
chorus fills the valley with song
both frightening and
exhilarating to my blood.
A chill creeps through me
as the mountain stream nearby
has entered my body at the neck
traveled every inch of my vein and artery
before leaving me at the ankle
and rejoining its own meandering body.
Is it the distant buzz of chainsaw
or simply a concert of crickets, each
tiny violin poised and ready to launch
that leaves me holding my breath?   /

Droppin rows
Lil sweet hoes
Starting to show
Ah, new growth
Bout another month
Tie those ******* up
Scroggin arms to buff
Makin knuckles rough
Outdoor grower
Both a grower and a shower
Homeboy didn’t you know,
I grow outdo
Organic food, sprinkling
Had an idea, inklin
Gonna try feedin in the evenings
Prevent these girls from shrivelin
See I
Take care and pride
Don’t let em get fried
Use hemp string to tie
Dog, that aint no lie
Cause I grow out door
Still liven white boy poor
But I grow like a muthafuckin roar
Build slow
Leave ya wantin more
I’m an outdoor grower
Don’t really **** wit food crops
Don’t really make friends with mad cops
Don’t really like to eat pork chops
But I will make you top drop with my
Super green
Grown squeaky clean
Nothing obscene
Goes in-between
These rows
No hoes
Use my hands
Part of the land
Scan the horizon
Make a new plan to
Expand this outdoor grower
I’m an out door grower
Never use a mower
Or snow blower
I’m a outdo grower
Got this **** wrapped up like a boa
And you know
Out door grow
Doin 20 different strains
Some seed, some clone brains
My soil built to drain
Up on the Willamette Valley plain
See I hear all this ****
About Mendocino
And northern cali
But the mid willamettre valley
Grows better than anything in cali
And I back that **** up
Dab nail on leaning on a coffee cup
Bruthas tryin to just stand up
After rollin and smoking one of these blunts
But I
Try to stay humble
Donate my wears to the needy
I aint greedy
Its about growin the best ****, me
I do that all day er-ry day
To late Spetember from early May
While farmers out gatherin hay
I be growin the best **** in the USA
I’m a outdo grower
Half-assed rhyme flow-er
Getting ******* to bend lower
So all those buds get equal sun –

1.2 million tickets
each minute
@ 2 bones a pop
a nation in crisis
gambles for ½ a billion
while claiming that jihadist
extremists
are crazy –
I bought two
spent 4 greenbacks
for a shot
at financial solvency
the ability to help
my fellow man
family and friends
have the dream built
with oak and mahogany –
seekers freaking out
as the jackpot grows
no winners
no turkey dinners
just a mass
of humanity
desperate –

shining on high, she looks down and smiles
we catch each other’s eye…twinkle
she, a planetary body
me, a man who watches… for a while

each new morning we share this time of peace
as day begins to break anew
before the sun or waning moon
the cool autumn and the sound of the geese

Venus glowing on her heavenly ride
I, but a man, confined to Earth
hold her sway if only fleeting
cloud passes by, the moment pushed aside

on the morrow we shall meet once again
as is the custom during Fall
seeking her on the horizon
months I wait for this affair to begin

an October love that lasts all the year
I see her when no light doth shine
looking to the sky expectantly
She looks down on me, and I shed a tear –

a tiny bell rings and I smile
Pavlov-ian slave
to the google chat box
at the chance my darling wife
would like to talk –
escaping the doldrums of daily drudgery
I delve into non-work related conversation
as we discuss dinner options
and what to do about the old dying dog
expression of love
sprinkle the text
as we consider vacations
and when to speak with a broker about buying a home
again…
Then it happens
like a hurricane destroying a small Polynesian village
the boss comes in
and I must close my little green box
and get back to work --

to write timeless
one need only to leave time out of poetry
the moment you place any object
recognized culturally
or any type of social structure
you are dating yourself
and failing to write timeless poetry –
it is the complete removal of
and adherence to structure which
elevates the mundane and regular that
gives us the opportunity to create great and lasting works
example: the hot dry desert sat windblown…
example: a tree stretching to the heavens watches as its babies
fall slowly to the ground below…
example: the sea crashed into the basalt leaving pools of foam
and small disoriented creatures…
these concepts know no time
they exist as natural and eternal images
you know, timeless –
one cannot incorporate emotions
or fears
as they could be subject
there is a possibility that what was once greatly feared
or perhaps emphatically idolized
is neither recognized or remembered
by the humans walking today…
this leaves us truly only one type of poem to write
when seeking to capture timelessness:
the nature of the cosmos
the stars are
and have always been……….
Truly, I hope this helps –

bladder cramp sends my sleeping body to the toilet
eyes crusted and full of the sandman’s wears,
I catch the momentary glimmer
slightest shape or form
hovering gently
above mom’s shrine.
eagle feathers and owl claws
adorn agate jars and fossil chips
beaded leather hangs from above
and the bone dreamcatcher sways
yet I feel no breeze…
passing though the hall
on the way back from urination
more awake in myself
I look over the area again,
hoping.

gentle, but constant, warmth
encouraged the delicate petals
to unfurl,
extend and expose inner veins
and release fragrant wisps
wafting slowly
the length of the shoot laden meadow –
protruding with diligent
single-mindedness
they burst forth and dotted the landscape
with fresh and pale greenery
trading the stark, barren, winter wasteland
into a valley of rebirth
extension
and colorful beauty
destined for fawn frolic
and sparrow dancing –
sitting cross-legged
surrounded by the sounds of spring
the nonstop low ****** buzz
chirping and squawking  of the scrub jay
effortlessly hoping from branch to twig
twice on the ground
and back up into the treetops…
far off in the distance
carried only by a meandering breeze
the long slow shrill whistle
of a bull Roosevelt
brought my mind to the present
forcing my to consider my surroundings
with a different air –
without warning I was left
with only my heartbeat
and the steady in and out
of a mammal breathing, bated
a slight yet tangible fear began to grow within
and I felt an urge to flee screaming into the forest
for what seemed a lifetime
I gathered strength and courage
as a new and foreign warmth played across
my ***** and trembling neck hair
coiled muscled began to twist
as I slowly turned to see what I was sharing the meadow with
this fine and sunny day…..
sweat dripped as I forced myself  to make a full rotation
and cast my eyes upon the intruder
barley a slit of sunlight crept between tightly pressed lids
first a little of the left
then some of the right
slowly adjusting
to both the brightness of daylight
but also to the contrast presented
the large dark swaying body
outlined but the new delicate shoots
I could feel the sweat rise on my forehead
and travel slowly
along my hard cheek line and down my neck
weave through the chest hair
and circumnavigate my belly button
finally soaking into the edge of my blue jeans
slightly discoloring the material…
I felt a swelling of bravery as I gave the monster
my direct gaze –
large brown eyes momentarily caught my own
as the massive black bear offered a loud grunt
and rambled back into the dense and darkened thicket
slowly the songs of birds returned
and I saw a bee flash by…
I picked myself up, shaky,  but stoic  
offering a silent prayer to the universe
……thank you for no cubs –

at long last
the gloves can be removed
with a Republican controlled
house and senate
this fascination with bashing
the B-rockstar
can end –
no longer will the focus be
on misinterpreted short-comings
denying reality to encourage racism
separation nation rationing social stations
only giving the elite
power –
the hour draws near
fog blanket encapsulates
rationality
hiding the sides from each other
brother against other
and everyone is ‘other’ –
gone is the sweet music
with so many wind gusts
leaving behind a dry California
to bake in the congress created c(LIE)mate
catastrophe –
the shadow of hope lingers in the darkest of hearts
leaving behind change
trading empire for magazine subscriptions
holding the gamer paddle
longing for unity –
As I look back over this last election cycle,
one thing is certain
Americans have misplaced anger
aggression without direction
complicating the scene
the burgeoning proletariat
paints freely –

Oh, happy life!
filled with loving caress
engaged conversation
proper nutrition
why must I look away
and focus instead
on the inconsequential irritants –
knowing my connection
as ‘part of’ I am
everything
too
yet I feel enveloped
caught in a quagmire
constantly seeking
some universal sign –
writing from work
in a satisfying and fulfilling
career, I look through bars
knowing outside is where I belong
helping men who exude graciousness
by offering education
looking at the foothills
longing to be lost –
much of the time
humans deal with duality
living and experiencing
while longing and seeking
I am a human
these things happen to me too –

my writing style
is akin to a purge
or biblical flood
within a minute, I write a mile
driven by this surge
it’s true, some of it is crud
still, I grow my pile
unwilling to control the urge
coated in poetic mud
I take a break once in a while
then new thoughts emerge
which I shoot at like Elmer Fudd
jotting quickly, with a slight smile
never meaning to splurge
sometimes landing with a thud
but still I write as this is my style
viewed mostly as a scourge
like a rotten old spud

Yo
Too many worrin about words
Too many worrin bout language
Too many muthafukkas spoutin off over who said what
Well let me tell ya
Im bigga
Set this off like a trigga
Go figga
Set a trap like a rigga
Then pick her
Up at the spot for a gigga
Ice cold beer,
A 40 for this wigga
Rollin fat
Get in back
Bounce like tigga
Up and over place a bet like
Doug VanHigga
I made that up
Bust a nut
Fill this cup with a piggy pigga
Round *** honeys
Rachet with Dirk Ziggla

Polarized and politicized
for the first time in years
I have found my candidate. –
I voted for Billy,
through my parents,
then for Gore
and Kerry
looking to stop the fascism
that used to be a party of
Republicans. –
Then came the B-Rock star
who I voted for twice,
but more from a fan stand
than an actual political disposition;
life-long party man
with a new face of America
in a house
racist by his presence.
But policy, generally,
remained the same
and my distain
remained. –
Today I watched Senator Sanders
give a speech to thousands
in Wisconsin
youtube saves the day,
and my political life
as I have found my candidate…
and unlike Ron Paul,
I feel this movement
could be a revolution
of ideas
and I will be a part of it. –
It has been so many years
since I waved a propaganda flag
that I didn’t write myself,
it makes me happy,
to take a break
and let a professional
rabble-rouser
do his thing. –