You tip toe
I'm a steel toe steppin' hard
Gonna crush your piggies
You'll not limp far
I'll get the pickle jar
Preserve this moment
Turn in your rep card
Membership revoked
Just another Joe
Go play with those *******
You're a weak man
Basic for *******
Slave to the substances
Abuse the gifts
Treasure the highs
Get off your lows
Blow smoke
Up hoes
Rake in those pennies,
Get to work
Maybe then
You'll collect
And you'll
Fare well...

APAD16 - 018 © okpoet

She begs
And he delivers
Mutual destruction
Tearing them together
They know not
What ails them,
They utter love
But this carnage
That leaves them
Breathless panting
Made dogs
Is beyond
Their understanding,
Lying to themselves
That either one
Is the Master
Of their domain,
Ashes and cinders
They shed
Their feet trailing
Their hearts molten,
There will be nothing left
But bones on a bed
No one standing...

APAD16 015 © okpoet

Observe the light that dims out;
Understand that everything
Is meant to return again.

He comes
Under the stealth of night
Dark as darkness
In the absence of light,
As she dons
Nothing
The beast within
Unveils herself,
A want
Not unlike a thirst
Is it soul against soul
Or a moth burning
To her light?
What does he take
If she has but one thing to give,
Is this what
Is this all
That we come for,
On all fours
Bare all
Can't take nothing back
Is there any depth
To the smile
As her heart beckons?

APAD16 - 004 © okpoet

She spreads
And he butters
If he can't keep it up
As long as she is down
It's all gonna end
In burnt toast,
Her better side
On the floor
He'll get the door
I'll get the dough
But what does she knead
If I am the **** on a crescent roll,
Maybe
It's all baloney
I've got to go H.A.M
Cold turkey
Like she cuts carbs,
Temperature is rising
I'm crisp
Out the Oven
And into the fire,
I just cannot
Believe it
Is not margarine
Thin layers of fakery
Who's running this bakery?
Everything has come
A long way in the baking,
Is it melting or burning?
Don't know
Until you slice,
Take a bite
It'll be alright...

APAD16 - 002 © okpoet

early morning
every one works

to make the land
more beautiful

sprinklers sing
water jumping

up in the air
birds grooming

their songs
elderly women

with rolls walking
their poodles

old pick up trucks
filled with new

flowers to plant
slowly driving by

His eyes gleamed and played in his eye sockets, like marbles on a playground. When he spoke, he waved the arms of a worn windbreaker. Dried ***** pooled down the center zipper. This was a man who stopped to compliment my boots and not my face. Or skin. Or purty smile. The wind encircled us and almost pulled the cardboard with a toothy model on both sides out of his dried finger tips. His niece insisted he carry that thing around. If only she had given him an entire billboard instead.

When I saw the gaunt streetwalker, companion of the sunrise, keeper of the bottle--he had enough to live off the recycling from years--he reminded me of the naked frightening people we are when we peel off the fifteen layers of skin, disrobe, and dismantle our pride.