Life gives us challenges that we must face and eventually conquer. As I stare off into the wild blue yonder. These deep heavy thoughts i tend to ponder. Like how absence makes the heart grow fonder. I can not seem to defeat the creatures I did conjure. I think I'm a ****** goner. At least I'll know i went out with honor.  My ghosts Im still attempting to conquer.
Maybe if I were just a little bit stronger I could hold on a little bit longer.

Angels do not follow where it is I dare to go, dark is the deadened cold place inside my barren soul. Here hidden in these shadows of sinister dark, I stab myself with jagged bits of my broken heart. I am going to do just what I want, Don't give a ****. Sitting here spitting out the pieces of my broken luck

Am  bombarded by images and voices not meant to last. Here I am fading and I am certain I am fading fast.

I am a broken vessel a mere empty shell harboring all those secrets I can never tell, Ask me no questions and no lies will I sell..

I let my hopes just slip from my fingertips, a rose silvered here in the moons eclipse. There is nothing that I can do when I feel alone and out of place except let mascara streaked tears fall down my face.  

Don't stand there and tell me how to live my life, suicide or homicide as I grip the butcher knife ?

am I really strong appearing to stand tall or if I move do you think I'll probably fall.

Suicide isn't painless and there are monsters that are real, you don't know me nor do you know how I feel.  
I watch as their blood starts to congeal. These bodies I must now conceal. Everything seems to be so surreal. It was probably  definite overkill.

My steady hands have been seen slightly shaking hell I can't even remember all the drugs that I am taking. The problems that lately I've been creating. Is more than a little intimidating.


To ease the pain that lives inside my soul, I soothe the savage  beast with loud rock and roll. Impossible I have been to console. I've gone now to place where Pretty flowers once did grow. I have to reap what I did sew.

I have shattered just like ******* glass. If you aren't helping me up, then you can kiss my ******* *** alone in this world of **** trying to force myself into places I just don't fit. Like an astronaut I blast right off into space. A lost cause A head case, what a waste.


I am spirit that was destine to just be free. Not trying to be anybody but me. I am not really quite sure who that is supposed to be. I'm assuming it's a completely different version of me.

Watch as this sharpened Steele blade slides across my skin, I trying to vanquish demons that reside within. The air perfumed with the scents of *** and sin. Here we ******* go again. Not your foe, but I am a fiend my friend. Spinning in circles has become the newest trend  

I am a legend my fathers legacy they say, I have a hard time believing things will be ok. As of this time and this place it's all discord, and everything is in disarray

I am pretending that there is nothing wrong as I stare off into nothing as I hit the ****. I  do my best to just keep moving on. At this impasse I have stood entirely too long. I am already gone.

when I smoke I smoke strong blowing clouds  thick as hell. I am a bit twisted if you couldn't tell. I move slowly trying not to fall into these worlds that somehow parallel. Spinning in circles, I spin like a top, now  I feel rather unwell. I ******* tried it was an epic fail. An attempt I wasted. It was was no avail.

Demented and perverse. I am Explicit and profane. Im also sincere and insane. I only go crazy when I go sane. I'm still here still writhing in pain. I still miss my cousin Billy Wayne.

I am on another plane. I am in a different dimension.  It might be easier on you if you would just pay attention. In a text message I can read intention. I welcome the King of all King's divine intervention. Actively I am currently seeking redemption.

Hole in my dark dead soul so incomplete I just feel do not feel whole I twist this **** bowl as I spiralling faster out of control. The pain and sorrow I just can not let go. The older that I grow I become the much more corrupt, I am cold. Lock and reload. You're **** straight I am feeling quite bold. Tottering on the brink of another psychotic episode. I break wide open as I implode. Like laundry I know when to fold.

Above me in these tragic skies these dark angry grey clouds forebode. Like a volcano sometimes erupt. I explode. I wasn't even listening so i can't do as I was told. Your **** straight if you think I sm throwed.

At a snail's pace I move forward because I just plain refuse to go ******* straight. Save me from myself don't make me laugh for that it's already too late. In my wake i leave everything on complete devastate. The **** things I sometimes seem to contemplate.

Nothing is  around here but air and opportunity truthfully. What happens when you start a mutiny ruefully, stupidly As usual I am just standing here uselessly.  Too bad I don't have the energy to put in the elbow grease and ingenuity.

It's a ******* travesty. A downright tragedy. That so dramatically someone could throw another person from a balcony, rather casually. It was done so callously an unexcusable casualty. A brutality, a formality, of another type of abnormality. In reality it is a fantastic fatality.

I must admit. I guess I could ******* possibly, Maybe, be a little bit crazy. Although you are quite out of your rabbit *** mind.  Time you simply can not rewind. Nor can you travel back through time. Continuously seeking treasures I doubt I'll  ever find. Out in the sinister darkness of the night I pretty much strolling blind. To **** **** up I am more than a little inclined. To error is completely human but to forgive is divine.

It’s not even all that entertaining anymore.
There has to be something now to really, really shake things up.
Human beings are all so tiresome.
I deal with this illusion only by necessity, not at all by choice.
Though, I am so grateful, in a sense. I love everything; I do.
But in another sense, I see how dead it all is and I abhor it.
How do I love the **** too and leave it go past,
just like luxuries tempted?
Show me pure peace as a way of life.
This is how I wish to spend my human life:
In Peace
with Peace
for Peace
by Peace
as Peace.

head to toe kissing


I   the mundane

moonlight madnesses, a possessive noun,
commissions gravitational pulls that disobey and obey
laws of interstellar loving. The antique modalities once and forever, forever laying still, stilled in places of antiquities and historical need, are thundershower and hail rudely reawakened, the undertow of
pull and push, the yanking hands  of need for others, for others,
it’s the explosive-knowledge, the opening of the old kitbag of perpetual principles, that crazy head to toe kissing is no less necessary, more so, than the computation of the total breaths mundane, unnoticed even now as I write of them, that we will count from that very first, in deed, they are one and the same, like the same
kisses given from head to toe

II   the profane

at the first, the body insists, I am but a long haul trailer, no taxi me,
cargo and passengers, are my quatrain accompaniments,
traveling companions boon, my own toons, too soon disembarked,
songs of parents and lovers, children and others, your visage passed
without your permission, but with your happy encouragement,
to generations that will see things that futurists dare not
even mention, but the profane urge to warn them all, kisses from head to toe, elevates, and overcomes...so when most of my names dusted with forgetfulness, lost in the waves, my scorching soft lips will be recalled just as an airy flight of light brushing upon a newborn’s eyelids just at the moment of birth.  A rustling more felt than heard, the ****** and bruised carrying body will sensate and instantly forget, but nonetheless transmit genetically, that the profane of birth and life renewing can be only washed away, when past and future, recalled and recreated, kisses from head to toes, dripping with softening saltwater tears, a chemical organic reagent of creation,
inside the histories of head to toe kissing

III  the insane

so when, somewhere, some place, a man’s body prepares  
tous ses adieux, his memory foolishly sane and strong,
his wasted paper bag container ship, rust bucketed,
crinkled and wrinkled, skin folding in on itself, hanging to bones
by stretched sinews and tendons that no longer tend to business,
loosened and gangly, they hang on barely to the bare nakedness of
evolutionary processes, mostly not, offset, by the tenderizing effects of kisses, from invisible attendees,  unconscious they,
willingly and unwillingly, offering farewells in actuality...
head to toes, noses to belly buttons, tatted, tattered, and still tasted by dying cells.  It’s insane to think it’s even possible  one retains each and all, but he does, those few given, those few  millions he gave away for cheap belly laughs and poems, decade upon decade accumulated are the totality of him, all of them free and sealed in kisses from head to toes

A million monarchs lie dead, though,
No less sociological programming of
Upper-middle to rich classes with
Decadence, affluence, inclusion, is.
No less societal determination of
Middle to lower, being excluded by
Division and conquering, privation.
Yet, they, on wing no more, still fly
In our spirit's eye, heal humanities' heart.
While their silent cry echoes
The 33,000 species extinct each year,
A rate not seen since the last ice age
Ensued; does it move you?
Does your curiosity ask why?
Will you, on this 33rd Earth Day, allow
A tear for all life's fallen? Consider
The losses economic apartheid incurs,
Mirrored by the divide humancentricity
Has levied? Our underlying duplicitous
Disregard for life, greed and oil fueled,
Won't abate for our existence, will you?

profane is the word you seek
when it comes to
looking up
this vicious word
called
love...

for how can one live
in deeper lies
than the imaginary
of permanent belonging?

for what is eternity
but a mortal's illusion,
and what is love,
but the sum of all of mankind's fears
and insecurities?

after Yona Wallach (1944-1985)


Let's have it!
I came for the show!
Strip the Torah
to its essence
where not one word can hide
caress it with your Yad
singing in a lovers voice
an ancient burlesque
and when it's done and dressed again
parade it dancing through the congregation
a fitting encore
to a fine performance
as we almost fall over each other
to touch it
slipping spiritual dollars into its belt
the temperatures rising
like a finished prayer
that even makes the Malachim sweat
in their heavenly heights.