In the faraway land,
trees smiling and nails
Not the escargot snails
Booming business sails
His name Rusty nails
Super rich paper shredding
Destroying fine print
paper and nails affair

Those hot leads faxing
The heart opens up than bleeds
What a mess misleads to
More hoarders
Trying so hard to get
over the U-S-A border
When you least expect it
Being searched papercut body

Like Honey Bee without
Hair like a beehive
foxy lady
No Jive rock paper scissors
Twisted sisters also drying up
All lines and spot
like a dark romance
Cheetah
Not the Samson and
Deliah race
Millionairess place
Became a swamp
Forest of racers
Super moon Gump
Lady and the *****
I am Instagram Disney Pixstar
Getting looks by far
Superwomen nailed her
With Starwars
European fellows

Soft clouds daze-like fun yellow
Emotionally their crying
Broken one scattered piece
of glass, please I see something
to smile about
Super rich why do they get
the VIP pass laughing
He's the roundabout
Someone with love handles
Can we handle all this
Getting drinks and hot lady
winks hit or miss
Racing their motorcycles
Dark glove handles
What Harley Davidson cycles
Is that your best reaction trying
Mirror my mirror on the wall
I am not buying it super
rich mechanic
The only one chosen mirror
She feels ******
Love can give you tumors
Dissect you who will direct you
You don't feel this is your time
The sunny side of the street
Sunnyside eggs over easy

The Speakeasy
Your hair of ringlets **** wavy
Did he nail your darker side beat
Bird up your nest feeders heat
Don't break me up to fall
The phone rings dingaling
Spiritual candles witch is dead
Your mind is somewhere else
instead
Just make your silk ties of the bed
Tied to your ankle I love you
How your hearts just dangle
"Having a nail full because you're single"
Were all linked into something
Yodeling, not the business
of smuggling
Knocking on heavens door
Super rich marble black and white floor
Hammering nails in the cabin
He's fishing the hooks how it fits together
hugging
Going up the staircase to heaven
What a big cliff-hanging nail diver

Zippety Zepellin*
Songs whole lotta love
How you've been nailed in
the blackout
Not a piece blackout cake
Canarsie at the pier
Out of nails, the darkness hits me
Bend over nails like the devil more rivals
Never to be resentful
Always pray to be needful
Her face value of her smile
Being poor her soul
stepped on

Too many men, not enough nails
But they got their thrills
New York City construction
worker
He's wiped out being hammered
nails hot drills
Such poorly written emails

Her heels got stuck
No stars to shine *Rusty bar
Starbucks

Her mind was a
bulletproof vest  
"Jane and *****"
"Plain Janes" movie cut
Of paper dolls
Being Nailed Bunny hunt
of tricks
But all weapons he nailed her the best*

Blood stem thorns
Italian love horns
Robin Redbreast tweet text
What holds us together
French **** nails
Fountain of golden coins

Lion heads or tails the door
Back to spam ham of emails
Super rich we may never be
But New York will always
be my kind of town
He nailed it so
many times

New Yorker super rich talker
Like a perilous time super
rich food delicious
Pygmalion how we nail our nation

The Amazing Grace
Face
Place
Glance-dance

"Her Pleasure" Eiffel Kiss France
The lost place trance-spell-
You should see the look
on your face
*        *        
It wasn't her wishful thinking
Bringing her deep love the wishing well
  fuller up guilt tells the trips
Feeling lost but it turns Global
somehow it follows rose stem rural
Hard pillow but painful
The glow her words felt like a burn
His wicked candlelight so stern
smile concert rearranged

Too many heavy metals
Iron Clad Civil war deeply hanged
Something changed all deranged

Change of weather
England his hands are happy
needing more water to sprinkle
The happiest  time in London
Pub cheerful Lad star twinkle

I saw her standing there

Her friend was reminiscing
but lost some memories
Until an image appeared of him
she found herself

Pleasurable oneself she was
Wondering feeling the thunder
now as two cockpit rambler
Being lost on the shabby
chic shelf
The Greyhound those
Siberian Huskies with her
plaid hankies

The race is on those bookies
Growing and howling I was lost in his
Skydiving but I didn't see him
going down bits and pieces
The picture shows what a blow
falling for Autumny leaves
High price got low
Lost his smile that was my pleasure
Reaching
Stretching
The praying Mantis Rosary

How do I resume soup consume
Sipping his alphabet words
Always lost it said
Innocuous
Delicious Dove flight
Details of the lover wings
then there split in two lost
Like an experiment pleasurable host
They are strangers in the night-star
Or the economy of life went too far
Like the mosaic artsy wife

Being loved its drawn to you
The intense side
Sunnyside he's up ******
The contrast comes closer
To their bodies hot
streaming intensity
Eyes lost with fragility
Lost in each other what hotties
Procreation

Lifted to the heights seduction
The lost pleasures images rounded
On the edge of
Ecstacy she is lost
but he was found
The mighty cool way of thinking in her
pleasurable fun wedges less
said without a sound
Not about apples and oranges
Sweeter and hotter but her lips got dryer
The lost painter the splash on her cheeks
Her sheer face lost inside the curtain
Her wetness arise on her lips
What high waves she had and
he the showstopper

Pleasurable but hot wilderness
her wildflower caves happy camper
So demure with an allure
The lost pleasure when you find
it the whipped cream she became the
Debutante what Suzette
Meeting her it was her pleasure
The hard teeth bite that ****** apple
crushed  it came
rolling down
the hill
She caught his jelly roll
His little bite burst her dream soul
Moving on with pain
how can we
meet our pleasure

Whats lost can be found freely
The taste is always there
The pleasure we try different
methods not always nutritious

Someone lost inside her delicious
Like the lost lobotomy

Of the Rite
This wasn't *** education of the
Deans list pleasurable digest
How it leaps up every year
Leap Year, not the frog to kiss
Finding love constitution
Follow me we are on our
next mission * my pleasure what
are you waiting for?

Under harsh street lights
And a rusted skeletal overpass
We walked in the syrupy
Silence of a Sunnyside Saturday
Night

A man asked me in accented
English
"Want that burrito spicy?"
"Yes"
His eyebrows go up
"Spicy?"
"Yes, ******* spicy!"

He smiles to himself
Reaches back into the food truck
And pours sauces and
Liquids of varying color
And viscosity into the
Tortilla

Wraps it up for me
Gives me my change
And waves me off with a smile

When we get back to the apartment
She is mad
Because I choose to make love to the
Burrito instead of her
I can't help it
Drunk eating is one of the
Forbidden joys of life

She slams the door and
Shuffles around yelling
By the time I'm done the burrito
She is telling me to sleep on the couch
Which is fine because I can't
Feel my mouth anyway
The burrito is so **** spicy

I tell her this and that her
Kisses would be wasted
If she wants to waste her time
With me, I want to feel it

We sleep together for
The night

...

I read the news today, oh my
Koo, koo, kachoo
The fox in is charge of the hen house
Gates are secure but the creature is inside
Feathers fly in helter skelter patterns
“You’ve got to crack a few eggs” is heard
as those who hear, scramble
seeking the sunnyside

A dozen or so duck the falling shells,
raining down from straw filled verses,
bland but obviously first in the pecking order,
hoping it all would be over…easy

While down on Broadway a church mouse sings off key
"Grabbed my coat and grabbed my hat,
ate the cheese in seconds flat,"
to a blindfolded audience
waiting to applaud till the curtain goes down,
so not to be seen greeting late arrivals
with luggage and tickets
hoping the next show is not sold out
for this standing room only presentation

Fortunately three, maybe four seats still remain unoccupied
as stale popcorn and sticky floors beckon them to
crushed velvet seating with
back pocket indentations left behind

The lights go down and the band strikes up
a rousing intro to what should be a good show,
at least that’s what the reviews said,
5 stars, Brilliantly directed, The best choice
for your daily intake of culture…

When a tuxedo with a smile
makes its way to center stage
and begins reading backwards,
“I buried Paul”

Boos rang out from the crowd.
“We came here for poetry!” was shouted in unison
But it just kept on, “Number 9, number 9, number 9”
The audience ran for the exit doors (stage left)
and as they hit the streets looking for something better,
“Turn me on dead man” echoed after them

Meanwhile, back at the chicken coop…

40 hours in
           a warm mu agonist blanket
       reminding you
                      the sunnyside sea serene
                     .. ...that everything everyone
      will be ok

like the last time it felt right
        to let someone

I still stretch like a cat in the morning
Holding the breath of my last dream
inhaling the thoughts of my next one
You never meet me there.

I stumble to the kicthen
Wash my hands
& fry my eggs sunnyside up
You never meet me there.

I place my favortie coffee mug upon the counter
Fill it with rich, smooth, bold,  black coffee
let the creamer sweeten it as I open the blinds
You never meet me there.

Your absence is a noisy silence
When my heart yearns for you
It beats like an Orchestra
I don't know where you've gone
I do know my Mothers patience
Beyond a virtue
Is more like Celeste
Either she believes she'll see you again
Or you've never left

I cry sometimes
More often then I should
it doesn't get any easier
You never meet me there.

I reminisce sometimes
Not as often as I should
there's a peace in my past
I cannot leave you there.

You are my Father
You did your job
Above average is your middle name
Greatly was your first
& the last you left behind for us, Love
Greatly Above Average Love
You set a standard
You are my latest
Greatest
Inspiration
A million Thank You's I never gave
A billion hugs I can no longer give
When I make it to the deepest corners of my heart
I am confident
You will meet me there! <3

Spit it out like it must be said.
Its on the the tip of my tongue.
This **** is cousin to death,
She's like a father to me.
Big gold cross for my Momma
to show Pops we livin prosperously.
He coughs just like me,
I'm chiefin more than him now.
Candles burn at every turn until
the passion dims out.
Awaiting faith i know will never come to light.
I'll live like this until I'm six feet under Sunnyside.
Raised in the Beach,
You know i slave away in Compton.
One more day to pay the cover charge of living without options.
Pro Club on my black t.
Three lumps in my black tea.
Borderline poor royalty,
Unknown to you,
And it means more to me,
Anyway.

Reality is a blur, a foggy consistant blur.
Everyday is the same melancholic routine.
10 on the dot.
One sunnyside up egg with a toasted sourdough slice.
Citrus tea with honey and an amusing podcast to prepare.
Slap on foundation and eyeliner, to look somewhat "happy" for a straining workday to come.
Thank god for the coming 4 hours there, my mind is of spotless.  
Not a thought of you comes inching in my deserted cold mind in those 4 hours.
As soon as I punch out and put away the fake smiles of the workday, you pop right up.
This in general is not bad in a way that I loathe you, the memory of you,
But bad in a way that I miss you.
Enormously.
The old routine was much more methodically medicore but it was pure *******, beyond happiness.
Up at 9, waffles with milk, with tv in the background.  
As I can not fathom the desire to be at work already.
Walking in, I longed to see your deep icy blues that just melted me instantly as soon as I saw them,
Into a puddle, there I go.  
Their target are aimed towards my ungraceful demeanor, it still shocks me through out my whole body.  
Tingling, Inviting and Warm.
Feelings I felt everytime you nearby, I instantly knew it was you.
Present day.
As I drive towards what seems to be another morrow towards the vapid and grave, I look for you.
I felt those blues that day of a party.
I felt them as I walked away from a group conversation.
I felt them as I mourned the loss of someone.
I felt those blues that first night.
The night we met.
Vanilla ice cream, in the cold air and a life changing experince we both intuned.
Instinctively, I trust its profoundly there to you too.
Even now and till your departing day.
I felt those blue eyes.
As much sorrow and grief it brings me always, and probably will be till my final and sweet death,
I dream back to the days I would walk in, and melt in my puddle, as I felt and longed for those icy blues.

you bring me down
i could of been a bald eagle who
spread his wings wide over the globe
laid down his wings and took the earth
grasp it in my slick talons and swing it
then let it go and watch it fly like an egg
but you brought me down and now
im a cracked egg spilled on a
cracked sidewalk scattered by love
picked at walked on chewed up beat down burnt up by the unjust sun cooked sunnyside up with my yolk filling in the cracks becoming the ground that you walk on.
exactly where i belong
its too late for me im already insane
already in love with being alone
yet you still sit there on a cracked sidewalk remoreless with fork and knife slowly dissecting my love for myself eating it up and ******* it back out just to take something beautiful and make it ugly its in our nature
it is who we are we cannot run from it
only embrace it and learn to love the ****

when you find yourself
standing,
on the corner
of somewhere and desloate

holding a sheaf of sunbeams
whilst humming hopeful
show tunes
with a small nonedescript
black dog(you call bozo)
on a leash, lying belly up,
submisssive, at your side

that is when you have found
where recovery resides.

and when you know
way down in the abyss
inside
that you are looking at
a new way of being,
not necessarily
rose-tinted seeing.

and in that knowledge
you find the honesty
to decry...
that while, you be,
both living and visiting,
on the sunnyside.

that tho, somedays are fine,
some saltmine hard
and some too hard
to define....

despite all that
too-ing and fro-ing
all those tendril thoughts
and clouded over dark days
all the whispering
and bargaining fey things
your internal filmaker brings
to bear,
on the walls of your sanity
you will come through
with sunbeams glowing...

that is when you know...
....recovery
is the key to the lock
on a house...
                 in a suburb....
that does not have streets
named....

somewhere and desolate....