More than a *** symbol
You race the World's imagination
as You
hang on over a million walls
in bars
offices
bedrooms,

You name it
You made it.

Big talk of the World.

Fame's comet hurled You,
bright fire through Night Sky

crashed YOU
on a Heart shaped bed
body full of drugs,
by whose hand?

Yours or them?

Gangsters, celebrities, and politicians passed thru your swinging door,
wire taps, satin sheets and hidden traps,
covering secrets of an Empire.

Affairs in high places may have been your downfall.

If your tasty lips could speak what secrets would You share?

I imagine you
near a cliff
ribbons of sunlight
flood down between fir branches
a river of Gold
splashes your hair
golden-red flashes blind me
nobody is safe from dropping dead
in the natural light of your splendid beauty.

If I could infiltrate your silence
what would it feel like
would I be entangled in silky visions?

I want to hear your secret language written behind voluptuous lips.


What would They say?

A book of poems that rampage the soul?

Tell me your story
lose me in obsession.

Lost in a river of Gold
flowing under Casino's secret tunnels,
for a trace of truth behind the mystery of your life and death.

Worshipped by men, a hero for women.

Immortalized by posters and movies
there's something contagious in your personality that attracts Everyone to YOU.

Soft seduction in star-light
You dance with violet moon beams at your feet.

Lift the sad stone dropped in your heart,
pull it out crying from bottom-less depths.

Rampage me with your song
meet me there
below fir branches,

ribbons of moonlight
crashing kisses on your angelic face
heated lips travel down your neck
roses rise from your hair.

Tell me your favorite flower?
I'll plant them in your heart.

I want to rip down cliches about you
from Judgmental circles,
lift all 118 pounds of You against the wall,
explore the soft valley along your back with determined lips and hands,
write ten thousand love poems,
attach them to a tumbleweed
and send it zipping across Death Valley's floor.

If anybody finds them
they'll sit and cry alone for a week straight with a gun to their temple.

I want to watch conifers take graceful bows in strong Coastal winds,
let's drop off maple leaves and sad stones from high cliffs and make a wish:

We'll eat at Romanoffs, your favorite restaurant,
sip on Dom Perignon 1953 to celebrate,
hang out with Charlie Chaplin.

Hear your laugh shatter a million walls.

More than an object of ***
I want to know YOU intimately
without the make-up,
plant blue delphiniums in your dreams,

give You back your soul,
throw back the 50 cents they paid for it in Hollywood's star dazzled face,
keep the thousands for the kisses,

flip them the bird,
spray them with rounds from a Tommy Gun,
peel out in a silvery Porsche Spyder
head for the hills,
music cranked,
play it Loud for all the misplaced wild child's of the World.

Sea-wind blowing back your hair
will drive every man insane
enough to die for
enough to **** You for
enough to pull a Romeo and Juliet
over a cliff,  

James Dean waiting in Heaven to greet us with a sly knife smile and a beer,
a sea of
blue delphiniums in your last glance
one last song to rampage our souls.

If your dresser could speak it would tell me Everything,
before we crash our blood into rocks
one last time to kiss the haunted sun
and tell them All
to ******* **** IT!!!

There will be a blue steel gaze piercing through a wall of denial built by defeat and disaster.

There will be a collapse of flesh pulling on you from days and heavy nights on an endless nowhere road headed for toil.

There will be indistinct shapes roaming curious nights painting silence into unknown words where wild creatures rise up from depths to take in needed breaths.

There will be a loneliness so thick it makes all the lady bugs trapped in spider webs seem like child's play compared to this abandoned corner of yourself.

There could be a reality so pure that just by breathing the air turns wretched power players into righteous saints waking up to a golden staircase leading to a brighter galaxy.

There could be a desire pounding and breaking steel
with fierce invisible knuckles inside a stranger you just passed by on a street untamed by mystery.

There could be a ruby hiding beneath pine needles begging to be found by anyone.

There will be a volcano hiding below your carpet anxiously awaiting to cover you with fire.

There will be a planted thought from your mother's mouth driving nails into the drywall of your future house
that still has a way to burn teeth into your hopes even after 35 years of wind and forgotten dust.

There will be dreams sneaking through a window and sliding through your overworked mind trying to ease the defeat of yesterday.

There will be a storm rising from swollen eyes of a universe out of touch with itself-
starving for reconnection.

There will be hearts closed up and left to wander.

There will be highways to heaven that are open that lost eyes won't perceive.

There will be stolen lives
effecting us
this loss will have a way
to burn teeth into a blue steel gaze that has the power to break through walls and find truth covered up, abused, mocked, and left to die.

There will be fire
written in your heart
that will defy it all.

I don't know how
  all these stars from God
found a way into my eyes
blurring the clear night;
how you misted me
as your shine
threw embers
into my loneliness
and
the howling wind
moaned my name
as if the entire Kingdom of Heaven
rose up inside
to bury me with feathered grace.

She comes from everywhere delivering fat snowflakes.

enthralled, I stare out.

Is this what hope looks like?

She comes from everywhere delivering me from stifle.

She knows me.

Her voice landed like this.

A vast white knowing, a delicious dish of eternity seeking you.

Turn the world off.
Calm your mind.
Amputate whatever fights you.

She comes from everywhere,
suddenly strikes with long awaited snows I haven't seen for 5 years.

She makes me appreciate my overgrown beard, a scraggly scrub of black and red as I walk 6 a.m. roads, almost too dark to gamble your life on.


She dismantles rainbows
scatters it out into snow,

my eyes are transfixed in her scope
everywhere she flashes, her masterpiece guns me down like a piece of writing finding your secret love.

She lifts me from self imposed entrapment, she knows my true identity completely, better than me.

She is a manifestation of our dreams.

I grew wise by reacting too much to darkness.

If you want to **** a beast don't feed it.

She dismantles rainbows
scatters it out into snow, her message of love couldn't be clearer.

she drips from heights
be a empty vessel to contain her.

Spinning defiant on plain
motivated by fierce performance
we desire explosive Evergreens erupted in trance through churlish gusts.

Sleepless still by anxious chills,
carousel ancient texts round my curiosity until I'm quenched,
fill my open **** with lead-

dynamic to core you have cleaned away forlorn stains of lovers.

No longer conflicted, belligerent, or hostile I circle cordial giants in hopes to spread a torch.

Running below, this chorus hides in underground river where only the inquisitive explorer will find secret decorations, unfurling flexible flow.

Set fire to covers and toss your indigo stars into her fabled wishes
hoping she transcends defeat.

Keen to mammoth masters and ascending ladders in which love has already conquered evil, if you reject compassion you run endangered risk of ruin.

Bottled up in diligent fiery crackle
these embers are not human.

Old antagonistic teachers coveting remnants of smoky dreams, may the new loyal scent of kindred rain wash away your jaundiced collection of brainwashed lessons.

Keep my perspective wide open,
don't forget to breathe in this place where humility is viewed as weakness.

They keep thinking I have not known horror, if I was to spill my past they might appreciate my fibrous connection to old growth forest and every storm unable to knock me down.

This cruel person who wished to destroy you only makes roots grow stronger.

No longer discreet in my old hideout hut of intentions I am well aware of who I am and what innovative wisdom I now dub my new cosmic colonel.

I have been digested into cynical intestines, yes I too ran the risk of complete and utter ruin, never certain if my convoluted confusion could spin again in heaven.

May your dreams all find The Evergreens and your spirit find The Master.

Ever since the miracle happened I've hardly been able to talk to people.

I use to be charismatic.
I'm not sure what happened.
Silence is my new language
I used as a child.

My eyes stare out the windows at work, drifting far off, tugging on ideas for a sunken continent I'm trying to make rise.

All I see are pages blowing, belittled in a snowy meadow breeze, stripped out from a notebook-
angels write on in my dreams.

All day long
a key to a door
taken back by the unfair storm.

Ever since the miracle happened I have been mopping up spilt awe with words that don't sound right.

I can't get my pen around it.

This hidden continent is too gigantic.

It lies buried under gallons of black and cerulean sea.

Day or night.
It doesn't matter.

Something strange is happening to me.

I've never felt any metamorphosis like it.

Killer pitbulls don't bark at me even though they bark at everyone else.

All my old problems are evaporated
like nothing ever happened.

I met a man who told me
"You look so clear."

People don't know what to make of me, they just stare and smile through me like I have big white wings.

Ever since the miracle happened it feels like I've been walking around in a dream.

My dreams feel more real than the unreal of this place.

My friend told me
"There is nobody like you."
Maybe little Jazzy is right.
I don't know.

Her statement keeps pacing back and forth on my front porch like
I WISH YOU WERE HERE.

I don't feel lost anymore.

I need a master to help me with how to tame this ocean of light streaming incredibly through me from another place I can't see.

This miraculous initiation threw red carpet down for my feet to glide across.

This unnamed feeling sitting inside me like a hidden continent dreaming to break free.

Ever since the miracle happened
All I want to do is sing.

I will pick this black bullet night apart with wandering eyes,

I'm bending down pulling dead weeds from winter's throat.

Pitch black at 5 p.m. and this blackbird still crows out his love torn blues somewhere on a Hawthorne limb.

His agitated cry gurgling rat guts.

He inspires worms to crawl out and bathe in bone chilling rain.

He dumps his misery down
a thorny cry, spider webbing glass
maybe he lost his girl.

Now he assails rain beaten dark with all he has left.

His wings will still climb a dagger driven night.

Dusting off loss, his eye level disaster insisted for a winter song.

Death of sunshine.
Age of only Fog.
Three days and nights of rain and frost.

His bent temper rides a campaign trail with no rules.

He is a black jet project that defies earth schools.

Intimate with cloud.
Kissing both world's of sky.
His nest is unknown and nothing will rule over him.

He will perch on scraggly fairytales and spit his venomous woe to forest storm.

His cold passage offers no warmth but he will bolt like a stealthy warrior
and blaze his crown of thorns from winter's rough, entangled throat.

You will never hear him apologize.