She exhaled spring,




                              a newness filled my senses…..





                  reborn in her eyes.

course, black, dog hair
from an eleven year old lab mastiff mix
pokes through my salmon button down
reminding me of home
while I pretend to work another day –
sitting in my swivel chair contemplating string theory,
dark matter,
zero-point energy and magnets…
enjoying a slight breeze
thinking about what a mint julip tastes like
and if the temperature and humidity are right
for that sort of affair –
wrinkled slack leg shows the truth
I wore these pants yesterday
dusty Nike proving my enslavement
thank god the sole is pulling away from the faux leather
at least I am not a slave to the seasons –
three week old stubble gives my calloused hands
something to scratch and rub
granting me the look of thoughtfulness
and intense consideration…
I play this up so no one bothers me –

~



each step
      purposeful
                
no longer can discontent rule
                 when that has become the norm
                             we must remember
                                    unity

promises coated in smelly swamp mud
                         lay disheveled after spoken

no one is expected to remember
                 words carry meaning

it seems I have been cursed
             with an inability to forget   /

distorted slop fed through a Marshall stack
attacking power cords with abhorrent abandon
random lyrics of pain based guilt
quilted the patchwork of ******* jocks
and played out arena rock
Kool-Aid dye job and slobbish hand-me-downs
earth tones, greens and browns
and drowning in the Northwest rain
insane solos played eating Rollo’s enslaved
to paved roads and dope fiend modes
Kurt’s hurt and flannel shirt
lifted the dirt off my heart
and set me apart from the sheep faced
high school mistakes
faking tans to look
totally Spring Break
holding onto hate and plating
fate next to kale chips and goose pate’
fame gorged but a porridge boy
knows no joy under the employ
of capitalism……
answer in hand the shot rang
and one million tear-eyed teens
sang
sad songs of pain and lament
replaying images
of a ****** prophet, heaven sent –

~
Contorted faces frozen with fear
witness a mother caress and hold
tunnels and caves and villages
in a warm one mile embrace.

Foreign clouds fill the sky
and fall back to the earth
sluffed skin carried on unnatural winds
flutter like a butterfly across the sand.

Fleeing sheep herd in rubble
square pupils dart and scan
burnt shrubbery offer no sustenance
as the economy of the foothills is spent.

Low rumbles of passing planes
give rise to wailing children
nervous eyes cast themselves to heaven
waiting for God to fall again.     /

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 –

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 –

slight crack allows seepage
slowly undermining the structural integrity
allowing erosion free reign
trickle with enough particulates to encourage life
on its own
runs down the face
exposed –
supports tumble, clattering
bits too boulders
torrential force pushes away remaining derbies
sending wave after wave
pyroclastic flow –
distant thunder rolls in without a cloud one
explosions from afar
trembling from within
excitement for what is to come –
the abandonment of emotional baggage
open to a fault
disintegrating damaged walls
new bridges through conversation
released while behind bars –

besmirching the Presbyterians
all dolled up
pretending they don’t drink
and fornicate
for dollars
down at the stop’n’save,
a low chuckle rises
the pits of hell never heard such a guttural and robust howl
my face distorts at the hypocrisy of their lives
small narrow-minded hate-mongers
doing everything they can conceive
to impose their will on others
to force their beliefs
down the hearts and minds and, yes
the throats
of any culture they come in contact with
invoking “god’s work”
while spreading disease and poverty –
blame the Baptists!
it was they who confined the natural people of America
to starve on barely habitable plots of desert
until uranium was discovered
then pushed them to the very edge of extinction
for a few more corporate dollars
in the collection plate…..
heathens rarely tip –
Smash the seculars!!
they continue to punish their sons and daughters
over genetically predisposed lifestyles
while touting grace and faith
in the most high authority
which basically means
they are above man’s law
having forgotten, it was men
who wrote god’s law –
oh hypocritical little lamb
your head and *** do not really belong together
in a perfect union
they should be separate
you know, like the founders intended
with the state and your *****, *****, churches
the same churches
where young boys are *****
for Jesus –

dull thumping, deep in the subconscious
pineal reawakening
decalcification in progress
seeking my alien alter
the union necessary
for the next evolutionary jump --
the cliff is breezy
mist swirls below
undefinable guttural growls from the depths
echo off vast canyon walls
sending a shiver up my unnaturally curved spine
forming in the misty shroud
a face of the ancient gods appear
locked eye to eye
the command is for blood and worship
a thin smile crosses my lips
clamping down on my own tongue
until the thick red flowed down my neck and chest
I spit my ability to speak
into the very face of god
thinking ‘worship me, *****’
****** distortion
rage filled eyes penetrate deep
and a chasm opens
BWOMP BWOMP BWOMP
the 5:32 a.m. alarm
sounds
time to prepare for another
day of work –

lost in thought and
lost in boxes
thin dust coated
stacked haphazard
her life
inside –
I began moving and rearranging the space
attempting to reclaim the study
instead memories flooded and tears fell
as each tote
carried a piece of her –
considering the southern trip
in a rented Caravan
more than a year ago
trying to decide what items
I needed to carry and store
in order to properly protect
and honor her memory –
standing in a poorly lit room
staring at her life
under packaging tape
I found myself attempting to
reorganize my mother –
as I placed boxes into the hallway closet
I found myself thinking about her
parental missteps
which then gave me freedom
to hide her away
I saw the old photographs
smiles belying childhood disappointment
not the bike I wanted
wrong style of shoe
embarrassed of the car
the house
life ……
I slide another box into the crawl space –
angry and confused
by my actions
and emotions
I think about her smile
Southern Californian blond  
six foot one shinning like the sun
in the grey Oregon drizzle
taller, prettier, and better educated
she glowed in the dying mill town
and I,
but her child,
felt lost in the shine –
vacuuming the bunnies
and mentally compiling
the inventory list seems lite
as if I lost important packed items
in the shuffling memories …..
I was instantly struck
by what was missing
from the tattered and faded boxes,
as I reorganized my mother
I had found, again
within myself –

Is it wrong to want to write hit songs
smoke from bongs while wearing thongs
move the throngs into song
about long dongs and walking along beaches…
what is the problem with tripping with dips
and nipping buds while ripping joints
flipping skirts and dripping squirters
primping limp ***** in front of debutants…
it has to be alright to fight the right wing blighters
near sighted and mighty with Jesus
high on tea leaves and asking why can’t **** victims
just have the baby at night
tis their plight….
Aghast, I blast past raspy voiced smokers
Flashing my press pass at the ****** masses
I lash lasses with pizazz on the bleachers
preaching all the time about reaching for Zion
screeching teachers speechify
addressing lecherous miser’s
bent by societies plyers ….

flossing jocks swing mighty
***** crow blowing triumphant
incumbents sent to extend the morality
vitality reality equals fallacies and tribulation  
recreation station seething with malcontents grossly exaggerate
the aggregate to depreciate the innate greatness of iced milk and cherries
varying fairies trailing mankind grind to different beats
seated meat sacks lack tact and force ill-mannered children  
to render hate venders with crayons
yawning chasms plastered with plasma and grass clippings
flipping chihuahuas slipping in to the dark
bouncing ta-ta’s, beer-soaked and tightly clad
refocus the mass passing by
flying low with bellies plastic filled
pelicans land softly on quiet mountain lakes to breed in peace

those light blue eyes of hers they captured me
just like a life raft being tossed at sea
I knew right then that I could never be
without the love that so enraptured me

I shifted my thoughts to a future time
free together without the hate or crime
nobody singing that they need a dime
the whole world living with some peace of mind

like we were flying on white wings of dove
spreading a message sent from up above
call it god or maybe alien love
collective consciousness needing a shove

sure, rhyming poetry is total ****
even when the truth comes along with it
counting syllables is so not legit
makes me crazy like I might have a fit

but right back to her and all that we share
the way she smiles and her wavy hair
what you think of me I just do not care
because our love is way beyond compare

I can keep this up for so many lines
I used to write this way all of the time
thought my poetry was ******* sublime
it turns out I was nowhere near my prime

for her love it keeps inspiring me
just like the mountains or the raging sea
a love much stronger than a rooted tree
and without her love there would be no me

I’ll round this off with just one parting word
though some of you may find this thought absurd
our love it flies on the wings of a bird
of this truth I am completely assured –

trunks filled with junk and the crunk juice flows
flunked out pill popping junkies with no cash go
drunkenly to the shrunken head show
knowing they stunk.
The monks dunked funky mumps victims
on bunk beds and licked them
instead of fixing lunk-headed situations
with linkin-log technologic advances
drinking dogs retrofitted with dance moves
groove on the wooden floor while ****** bore
the Moors with tales of divorce and random *******
on all fours in doorways
during bad plays on the interstate…
demonstrators, unregulated, on roller skates
wait at the gates of the ingrates filled with hate
and throw pie plates with fated accuracy
and the belated bureaucratic picnic
nitwits in knickers knuckle bump
and plump debutants snicker
the wicker croquet mallets
perform ballet in the chalet
and I have to valet the cars –

Fishnet impressions
cut into the wall paint
as passing car headlamps
momentarily shine across
conversational window treatments.
Shadow imaginations playfully dance.
Half-lidded eyes capture slight movement
and a barely coherent consciousness
begins to develop scenarios.
First, subtle impressions of cats of sills
and tree branches scrapping across tempered glass…
but then, a more sinister feeling takes hold
an encroaching doom and impending dread
fills nearly sleeping veins.
Trapped in stasis, hovering,
knowing sounds have meaning
but totally lacking any muscle control…
fear takes charge
and paranoia settles in for the night.
Certain that each creaking board
is a maniacal killer
bent on committing a random
and horrific ******,
sweat beads on a forehead
desperate for the ability to
hide under a sheet.
Compressor switching on
as the refrigerator activiates
sends new visions of forcible theft
and gang **** swirling.
Mental images of criminals
in ski masks
penetrating the spouse
and laughing
carry a restless mind
quietly back to sleep,
as the low, dull hum of
the hot water heater
gives the house peace for the night.

Hope Patton Oswald doesn’t **** himself now………


…….he gots kids!

sharp and stiff pangs
hit my subconscious
old feelings of loss and lament
seem to influence the sunny day
gathering clouds on the horizon
dark and foreboding
heavy with precipitation
and thick enough to blot out the natural light
daytime darkness
as my mood fills the space
outside of my pupils
and I brood,
sullen…
bird chirping takes the sound wave
of scrapping metal on the way to my ears
transformed and damaged
I hear only the scream of mined elements
blended with the slow death
of oxidization…
I rust too –

being made physically and mentally ill
by the excuses of my fellow country-people
so many prescription placeboes
psychoanalyst *******
and million$ on useless therapy….
and for what?
I get it:
you were molested
parents sold your *** to the neighbors
**** in the baby bottle
there are reasons folks suffer
but not every stress is a reason to medicate
sometimes the struggle and it’s lessons
are the reason for the experience
or has American society forgotten that tidbit?
So many wannabe doctors
telling friends and loved ones
that they are dealing with PTSD and ADHD
sprinkled with STD’s
in reality,
humans have always experienced stress
our ability to recognize it
and conceive of alternative ways of being
is likely the hub to our evolutionary journey
now what?
Fat, lazy, pill-popping excuse monsters
on every corner
on every channel,
the new norm….
maybe I need a pill to deal with these ******* –

closed to differences of opinion
doors slam and angry hands
hide faces distorted with
misplaced rage and hate
over idealism misaligned -
personal impressions resist
accepting the masses
for humanity’s oneness,
instead they shake fists
and make lists of despicable
versions of themselves -
kissing the sleeping heads
of innocent children
whispering desperate prayers
to the white god of hypocrisy
in vain and misguided attempts
to fulfill ******’s master race
my face holds its shape
slight upturn at the corners of soft lips
stubbly beard glistening
with red and silver highlights
in a warm summer sun…
a knowing twinkle in my eye
as calm realization takes hold:
we could never truly be a unified people,
a one world government cannot succeed,
we dislike differences too much
to all become one….

Not since the days
of shooting ******
into the artery in my armpit
(too many blown out veins
in my arms and feet),
have I spent multiple nights
pacing and sweating…..
******* simple carbohydrates. –
In the first months
of being a non-cigarette smoker
I would see folks light up
and near instantly collect
a chilled film on my back
and fingernails…
forget about it;
but the other day I drove
by a pizzeria
and had thoughts of ski masks
and 45 caliber pistols…
******* simple carbohydrates. –
Once upon a time
I drank near 200 ounces of
Mountain Dew
each and every day.
If I missed a day,
I would have massive headaches
combined with serious irritation;
while it has been more than 5 years
since this body ingested caffeine,
last night I could not fall asleep for anything
and no amount of cannabis oil
or ibuprofen
had the ability to curb
my aching noggin….
******* simple carbohydrates –
change is the only constant
and humanity has evolved
amazing adaptability
while I know I will be fine
at this moment only one thing
really runs through my head:
******* simple carbohydrates! –

the CIA will never make the money off ******
it made off *******
******* is for parties
dance clubs
good times in social settings
******, not so much
dark alleys with ***** dealers
selling black tar
to hopeless souls
Mexican mules with **** cavities
brimming
carrying kilos into Nogales
or maybe Calexico
bow legged and sweating
just 35 more trips and sweet little Consuela
can be an American
until Trump gets his wall –
article after article relaying tragedy
the poor, lost in addiction
desperately seeking a coping mechanism
something to stem the tide of despair
and general malaise
dead in their prime
over a twenty sack
and low self-worth….
many friends and family this same tale…
some folks heritage is in ranching,
thousands of head of cattle
driven across the open plains
grandfather to grandson,
uncle and cousin….
others,
political dynasty
papa congressman
and auntie judge
but not mine –
the crest of my tree looks like the biohazard symbol
as generations of drug addicts litter the undergrowth
their weight attempting to hold me
lock me into familial history
unfortunately or fortunately
my will, and recognition of god’s power
flowing within me, as it..
I am my own master
and free to fashion my branches
to whatever my liking desires –
undercover government agents line street corners
whispering illusionary tales of release
stories of becoming void of pain
parables relating a free mind
to personal freedom
through chemical alterations
I whisper back
“I bet my **** is delicious,
wanna taste?” –

my color keeps me safe
and warm
entrenched in a racist system
of hate values organized as political movement
try as I might,
there is no relationship between myself
and the larger country around me –
born Oregonian
only about 3 million of us as a state
the majority of the geography
votes red
the mass of the populace
lives in Portland proper
and makes the laws for the state
blue laws….
we are predominately white
predominantly rural
predominantly not well educated
welcome to my state –
no amount of reading
researching
or watching lamestream media
could ever gift me
with real understanding
of a ghetto
or poverty as it exists nationally…
we have homeless encampments
and minority communities
just small scale –
darting eyes scan the landscape
seeking connection to the national issues
attempting to relate to federal politics
finding instead
my lawn needs mowed
and my dogs need fed –
I am sure there are many of us
Caucasians
who would fight for solutions
who would stand of injustice
those of us who long to truly know the United States as free
as the land of liberty
and equality
as today,
those are myths I was told as a child
myths that not every American household uses
to put fussy children to bed –

sagebrush and juniper
with the occasional tiny yellow blossom
sprout without fear
in the drought stricken desert
touting new growth despite
the Sun’s best efforts
and the total lack of precipitation –
granules of wind-blown granite mountains
give way underfoot
leaving misshapen footprints
near faded remnants
of an old rattlesnake shed
strewn delicately over
last year’s deer tracks
preserved in a landscape
that exists outside of mankind’s time –
Did Louis Lamoure ride though here?
Was this a secret cowboy stomping ground?
Off in the distance comes a noise though the underbrush
slow and methodical
meandering
one lone cow steps into the sunlight
as we lock eyes
the buzzing of insects fades
I lose track of the surrounding foliage
and consider,
“What a cud he must chew!”

I spoke with a friend
sitting outside a print shop
the wives, inside
due diligence
he and I
discussing the world
lite at first
weather and camping
young adult children issues
tempered with **** talk….
but the air shifted
and politics came onto the table
words caught in my throat
as I attempted to explain
I turned away as my eyes overflowed
removing a tear
I looked back, red-eyed
and puffy
for the first time in my life
100% sure
I am an American Patriot.

~



soothing fragrance        wafts



                          blooming        lavender




- Lovely spring day !

Writing the Haiku
Maintaining seasonal  joy
Summer and the like

The Autumn turns leaves,
Feel myself turning too
White skin makes comeback

The joy of spring time
The warm sun and fresh green shoots
My own growth matches

Heat cooks the pavement stone
Summer sun knows no mercy
Must beat all life down

Slow death creeps steady
Winter with its icy breath
Colder than harsh words

The seasons bring joy
Each with its own mystery
I like spring the best

The Fall close second
Change is the lifeblood of man
Spring and Fall change most

deep sigh escapes
large white face
ticking slow
less than three
and freedom –
she awaits
with bells on
diamonds in her shoes
anticipating
breath bated
ultimate goal
togetherness—
I pace
recheck time
tap pencils
on faux wooden desks
thumbs twiddle
minute hand dawdles
might piddle
considering swaddling –
her face forms
my mind’s eye retracing
soft curves
delicate features
astrologically charted
freckle pattern
sharp blue eyes
pierce
my heart leaps –
formulating excuses
call it an early day
dash homeward
sweet embrace –

angry wasp nest
meets
disturbed ant hill
the fire in her eyes
has the ability to forge
lightning lacks the intensity
of raw female emotions
wasting years trying to understand
how such unabashed hostility
phollowed by a ***** phrenzy
equates love, honor, and commitment
it is not mine to openly question
only to accept with open arms
as she is the gift from above built special
just for me
as I am for her
I just don’t live irritation
well, I do
just second hand

~
Far out past the breakers
a group of sea otters roll and play
in kelp beds.
nearby seafaring ducks and gulls
frantic for scrap
dive and squawk
splashing and throwing a sardine fit.
I stand upon the shore
wishing to participate
but the cold of the Oregon Pacific
keeps me safe and warm on the beach.
Still, I find myself imagining a streamlined body
riding currents and waves
a natural surfer never needing a leash or wetsuit.
The sun lowers and changes the patterns
shadows play between whitecaps
and I no longer can see shiny heads
pop through the surface
scan for friends or food
and duck again beneath the waves
where I can only imagine what is happening.  /

~




attempting   to

                            abandon ego
    



forever on the           patio




my         nudityquakes





storm clouds
                                       pressurize     /

it has become painfully clear
that in a land filled with English speakers
many of us do not speak the same language
there are individuals lost
forever locked into a mindset
void of color
only black and white
right and wrong
absolutists
living the lie of party lines
driven to madness
over personal freedoms
clashing with their value system –
eyes look past and through me
when I speak of a shifting planet
and the effects of humans
on the greater ecosystem
as if I were an alien
or an immigrant
without proper documentation –
when I bring up the ideas of holistic
healing
killing cancer with marijuana
fighting illness with a plant
easy to grow
easy to process
documented success
it doesn’t matter
they do not listen
they can’t hear me
I am speaking a foreign language
with a common tongue –
this is the state of my country
most of us run around
using variations on English
most of us have the same definitions
use the same education system
breath the same air
drink and eat
**** …..
yet we cannot come together
we cannot join forces
because you don’t know what I am saying
when I say I love you
you can’t hear
when I say I care
we will all die alone
looking into the eyes
of our brothers
wishing they could understand
what the **** we are saying –

~


soft breeze    






              distant snowy peak





                                                        dreams  
                                                                      cas-
                                                                            ca-
                                                                                 de   /

It’s not supposed

                     to matter…



But how


                          fat




Is Hillary!!

Sterling Jay props an acorn into the crotch of an Elm
Rhythmic drumming follows
Two-thirds the life of a fly passes
Yet the Sterling remains both diligent and determined
From the porch I hear the crack
Followed by the triumphant high-pitched squawk
Sterling Jay has secured a delightful evening meal --

endless miles of dark pavement
hours of white knuckle horror
illegally transporting pounds
processed into oil
curing her cancer –
new age family doctor
with a medical card and an interest in chemistry
distilling Everclear creating hope
1 gram a day
rear-view mirror road-rage
only wishing to be safely home
14 hours to go with a life on the line
watching a plant heal all that ails –
networking growers into family practitioners
dropping the bottom out of Big Pharma
one human being at a time
freely functioning as philanthropists
looking only to see families restored
Robin Hood as a pothead –
nothing could be simpler
than curing cancer
just grind up ****
pour 191 proof over the top
strain and keep the liquid
low heat cook it down
until only oil is left
5 drops of water
and a coffee warmer
decarbonization
then eat it
a grain of rice at first
then increase
to a gram a day
60 grams in 90 days
just try to die –
watching her gain weight and coherence in front of my eyes
seeing it again
knowing the truth
living in a lie
saving lives as I cross them
modern day travelling physician
carded
but unlicensed –

same ***  train wrecks effecting perplexed Texas housewives
who’s lives can never be the same again
they fearfully place toddlers into shopping cart jail cells
and whisk them haphazardly through produce islands
and cereal box displays –

     broken bottle beneath the battered bed wetter
          bending back before brackish beer bests him

She runs up and down crowded streets in a frantic tizzy
smeared eyeliner explains the due date is really just a number
and that without help
surely
they will take this precious bundle of joy –

     fast asleep in a drunken coma only the steady sound
          of deep unrelenting snores can be heard throughout the concrete tomb

with a tiny human perched precariously on a calloused knee
tears of resolute frustration fall on flower print Capris
holding in one hand every form of ID the state offers
and in the other, a forehead –

~


ruffled satin cascades
        deep pools hold attention
strewn pebbles of amber
    give rise to shifting images
like clouds passing overhead
while looking into a windswept pond

a lilting titter caresses my earlobe
and I can hardly focus on the language
       it is her posture
               her smile
                  which captivates

pressed skin warms
without sun or fire
            only our shared space
                 gives rise to heat and comfort
                        our matched sighs
                              tendril to the stratosphere /

as I sit overlooking this day’s group of testers
I am not really in the room
my body occupies space
that much is true
and my eyes track the surroundings
for both my, and the safety
of my incarcerated students…
all the while
I am with her –
I imagine holding her warm body
close to mine
offering soft kisses
and gently stroking her delicate cheek
leaning in so that I am able to better smell
the hint of lavender and coconut oil
mingling with light incense
and the innocence of unconditional love…
these fragrances send my mind to spinning
like a youth after their first real whisky drunk    
unable to properly focus, I examine my other senses
touching her,
listening to her heart beat play percussion
to a slow, steady, rhythmic breathing
periodically experiencing a loving coo
as she too is totally entranced by the moments we share…
placing my mouth on the curves of her body
tasting faint salt
and oatmeal goats milk soap
and an essence of femininity
that stirs a longing that takes complete hold of attention…
forcing myself back into the classroom
I shift slightly in my seat hoping no one
raises a hand…
only she makes me feel like a 13 year old
being called up to answer math questions on the board
with a raging ******* –

stubbly cheek and chin run along
a smooth creamy leg
the faint sent of pre-*** wafts
as a slight moan escapes her lips
the back of a rugged hand brushes away
fallen hairs
laying haphazard across a face
engrossed in ecstasy
gently rubbing the nub behind decorated *******
drawing forth inadvertent twists
and a few giggles and excited noises
teeth grip and tug at elastic
exposing a trimmed and curly
treasure trove
I dive with abandon
enjoying a meal
saved just for me –