My skin is fragile. My veins are brittle.
I might melt in the boiling summer heat.
Each day I grow weaker. I'm almost corpse.
Let's move to the desert where death looms
in shower stalls with scorpions and coiled
rattlers in rare shade just waiting for us.

Music readies the poet's table.
     My poem starts with nicotine.
     After awhile I mixed in alcohol.
     Catholicism is a main ingredient.
     Puberty is a wicked mix of Absinthe.
     Next I add a father broken from war.
     My mom could be friend or betrayer.
     I had to maintain a delicate balance
     between being real or just amusing.
     Amusing is easy. Real is impossible
     yet here I am pounding the dough.
     Put it in Hell's oven for a lifetime.

I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of our kitchen
  I found my new soulmate
  I'm leaving you and the kids
  to write poetry with answers

  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of your dorm room
  our last kiss and
  I'm off to Boston
  to discover myself.

  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of my garret
  a broken fist I put in your wall
  I'm jealousy's beast of burden
  I won't bother for my stuff. I'm sorry

  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  with a drunk *******
  I'm just another *****
  gather your stuff, bye
  why do I keep dying inside?

  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  Nashville new job, we're over
  I'll mail your stuff.
  you were the cruelest month
  still I couldn't set you free

  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  always
  no cure for romantics
  who believe in God
  and impossible love.

I had a marble that
looked like the earth
I kept in my pocket.
It was never worth
spit except I knew
how God must fear
the Earth in his jeans.
Worn pockets tear
we roll out of sight.
He panics it's gone
lost in a bang we're
unexpectedly done.

Birkenstock's and halter tops
no bras no rules free love
drink acid from a tea cup
go naked chase the dove
smoke hash eat Quaalude's
understand my carnal stain
We met at Woodstock and
****** it out in all the rain.

There must be someway out of here
   said the patient to the shrink.
   I can write a script for ******
   that might help you think.
   Give me your magic I said
   maybe I'll find another door.
   Don't be in such a hurry
   just be grateful for the floor.
   I'll need to see you often
   you're in a fragile mind.
   I'll write your script forever
   as long as you stay blind.

Spacious skies
    beautiful eyes
    you soothe the beast
    afterward the feast
    paleface took the bait
    red man chose his fate
    better never than late
    death served on a plate
    we set up shop here
    moved teepees there
    cleared the fields
    for lovely yields
    nothing else cares
    corpse never swears
    buy a black slave
    pick cotton and save
    your precious crop
    and blood they drop
    each day something new
    my open minded view
    set them free
    lost as they can be
    40 acres and a mule
    offered to a fool.

    Chicago. Baltimore.
    Jungles in city's
    in deadly playpens
    no hope. Deal dope
    die young a hero
    all you left was zero.

There's a stranger in my heart
  who won't let me get to know him.
  I learned he doesn't trust love.
  It broke his heart on a whim.
  He travels back streets alone
  sleeps under stars full of lies
  of lovers for money by the hour.
  Love's out of my reach 'til he dies.
  Then we'll find a place for our love
  with no doubt. A bed for love again.

I'm 72 and I'm not you.
Now I know I'm not me.
I'm just an afterthought
created with no purpose.
I'm a troubadour to amuse
the royal court confuse
the drunk King his *****
leaves him wanting more.
I write his sordid story
lies about false glory.
We watch as the stars
all fall from the sky
and we smell hell and
finally all just die.

The march of the chardonnay,
    a battalion of wine boxes at
    attention in formation against
    my bedroom wall ready for war.
    I'm captain. Music is crashing.
    Empty boxes marching on parade.

I lead them with my baton.
   My whole crazy orchestra
   plays frenzied on the sun.
   I hum in ****** nirvana.

The war was won the men came home
   broken but ready to fill the cradles
   and cry on the shoulders that matter
   and smell of the remembered perfume.
   They spent the venom into wombs to
   bring buddies back from ugly deaths.

Tiny dress and **** me shoes
       bring me back from the dead.
       I was sleeping in a graveyard
       inside the cavern of my head.
       You made my heart beat again.
       It throbs wild like a beast
       hungry for the promised sin
       starving for your siren's feast.

You have to see the garden of my broken heart.
Everything is old as dirt itself and the biggest
Sunflowers and Roses and Trees split clear in two.
Tears grow love in barren soil.
I thought I was loveless until I met
her walking from the garden
with rose blood dripping
from her fingers for the unloved
to finally taste love. I did.

I'm riding the edge of my mind
2 kids and a fat wife I deserted
before I fell in love with all
the other disappointed lovers.

Poison flows from the grapes of wrath.
   It spoils the soil with its honest path.
   You're hated for your poverty and bad luck.
   You'll do anything for a shot and a buck.
   Anything for a crust of bread and a beer.
   Sleep with me. Keep me warm. Hold me near.

You can't read my mind.
You've no idea what it's
like being close to you.
I'm stunned by your beauty.
Your laugh infects me.
Your wild hair brings me
to my knees in adoration.
I cower in fear of my love.
I'm quiet. I'm distant. I dream
of you that night. I write this.

Judas wakes and takes his bag of silver
  after betrayal with his kiss like I've
  done a thousand times before. Great White
  Whale Moby **** ripped off dark Ahab's leg
  black hates white hates yellow hates brown
  hates rich hates poor hates young hates old
  hates drunk Irish and drunk French and fat
  Germans like little ******. Almost a disease
  write your soul down word for word see who
  is your friend and who is unkind. Almost like
  being free. Take yourself out to the curb sit
  and wait for a life I'm no longer hungry for.

I'm an altar boy raised by nuns
trying to dance on the wild side with
guilt my constant companion. I bury my
conscience under absinthe and *******.
I wake naked and bewildered among people
searching for clothes caught in piles
never to be found again. We cover our
shame with anything we can and slither
out the door in splendid wonder at what
we dared do in such a strict world. We
are strangers who will meet again in
tomorrow's ****** of our own creation.

I was young and lost. I was
unable to keep up when he
went in the bank. I saw him
leaving across the street and
ran after him and a car hit me
and broke my heart and leg.
He was the god I disappointed,
the man I was always chasing.

I write this sonnet for you
purer than our midnight
full moon, *** act one, in
the dead bed in motel 6,
you left for other tricks.
Afterward I got my fix
the purest of any mix
I ever shot up for kicks.

I wrote my soul word for word
on a grain of rice big as Mars
and called it my Suicide Note and
plastered it on windows of my bars
they took my ashes once they cooled
packed them to sell in Jelly jars.

I was lost inside myself. I was at
  a party, loud music and beer a
tiny madness tugging at my mind all day.
  I walked naked from the bathroom.
  They wore costumes.  I was
  the only one to come as you are.
  Only that not understood
  is truly irresistible.

Last night's debauchery is washed away.
   The front stoop drenched in morning light.
   Blood fades into a stain that looks like Jesus
   with a wink and smile. That happens in Queens.
  
I wake from dark dreams in a room deluged
   in sunlight so bright I'm blind to my ugly
   truths from last night. I could eat a horse.
   I find the diner. That happens in Manhattan.
  
The heat is long shut off and I light Sterno
   to melt some ice for a spot of Dreamtime tea.
   Sunlight won't come this far north past 96th st.
   It knows better. This happens in East Harlem.

She's troubled and twisted
    my earth bound mistress
    offers me all my dreams
    without faulty promises.

    She lives in constant rain
    but loves without any pain
    and reaches me in places no
    honest woman could ever do.

You have to be brave in this world. It can all feel like a bad dream. All the blood, all that pain. Your heart will break again and again. You'll have to journey through it all. Protect the ones you love, no matter the cost. Be honest, be loyal. Work hard. Read. Learn. Tell her you love her, everyday. Don't promise tomorrow, it's not yours to give. Don't just survive, live. Beware of the man on the money, He's in it for himself. If it feels wrong, it probably is. Open your eyes. Create. Don't be shy. It's never too late. Don't wait. Travel the world every chance that you get. Don't stand for cruelty of any kind. Speak your mind. Be on time. Give her space, take some for yourself. Drink to good health. Knowledge is wealth. We all must play the cards that we're dealt. It's not what you're given, it's what you gave. Don't be the master or the slave. Spend all your time, it's not something you save. Be happy my friends. Be strong. Be brave.?

    - Maximillian

There's a terrible storm in my heart.
    It's fire and ice. There's no in between.
    I live the best I can in the middle of it.
I floor it before I lose all my nerve.

To what end can we possibly be?
Why do we exist? Give me answers
or I'm left no choice but to decry
god and satan and every reason for
anything in this demented dream of
mine. All suffering is in my mind.
Wars were fought in my frontal lobe
and peace reached in my temporal lobe.
I'm a madman in madness I'll never know.
I pray to godless gods until I die again.

Where all our monsters live
in luxury with wads of cash
if you stab a back or slit a throat.
Sell your soul pennies on a yuan.
Give the rubes a buck or two and
promise them what they need
to survive another term. You
retire a billionaire and they sell
businesses pennies on a dollar.
Suicides keep morticians rich.

I'm just pretending to be alive today.
I died years ago when I abandoned you
and the kids. I betrayed more than our vows.
I betrayed myself and there's no forgiveness.
I live in fragments between drinks and pills
when I see the top side of my world that
should have been but is a lost paradise.
Christ! I loved you so much back then.

Christmas vacation and promises
of  presents leave us frenzied for Santa's
magical visit on the Eve of
our holy child's birth.
We hover on the upstairs
at 4 am whispering.
Who will wake mom and dad?
The short straw descends in the dark
to their door. Knock Knock
and they stir and grumble
and prepare for the explosion
of 6 kids upon treasures.
Lights are lit and we stampede
down the stairs and think,
"Is that all there is?"
That's all there is.

Wheels spinning and lovers sinning
   in the dark of the tunnel of love.
   Kids giddy on wooden horses while he
   wins her heart with a stuffed unicorn.
   Guess your age. Guess your weight.
   See the freaks for your amusement.
   We live among acres of corn, slaves
   to it dawn to dark, too tired for love.
   Endless winters making children to
   bring another crop to market and we
   live for the same things we all do.
   Moonshine in lemonade at the Fair.

To be or not to be?
   I paint a black halo around
   your blond hair at midnight
   while you hide the moon from
   me and I wonder at your games.
   It's all intense; music, acid,
   *******, the beautiful things
   I've known, but  not seen lately
   We wait naked in the dark for
   dawn's first vague glimpse of
love in our eyes. We stare blind
and reach into the dark for lovers.

If I were a younger me
I'd steal you from your
so called life and show
you how we could live
without the fences. Lust
would be our guide to an
ending we'd always regret.
The wonders we'd know on
the way would be worth it.
The kids would never forgive.

He works in a toll booth taking cash
and lifts a gate to let you pass.
God's a librarian lending knowledge.
He's president of an Ivy League college.
He sells pieces of heaven on corners to smoke.
She rents herself out for a rub and a stroke.

The poet's curse. We feel your pain.
We'd rather not but we have no choice.
We need to put it on the page like a
tiny red corpse we never forget. Weep and
pray and deny a god. Death lives inside you.

New York Times said it.
  God is dead. Heavens empty.
  Hell is cold ash.
  The devil's in the details.
  Heaven will be Timeshares.
  Hell will be for Geologists.

One more glass of wine
  Into my time machine
  travel back before you die.
  We'll laugh until we cry!
  remembering, remembering...
  We agree death tops our fears.
  and morning overwhelms.
  I drown again in a sea of tears.

Every night we drink sacred wine
to excess and get angry for no reason.
We're trapped in a play we've written
since we impaled us in ourselves and
perform each night at curtain time
like dancing bears without claws.
I love you. I don't know. Do I?
Throw an ashtray and accuse me.
I'll curse your love and beg for it.
We sleep, perchance to dream.

I tried tears of regret.
I tried flowers and
candy. I was contrite.
I was drunk, jealous,
convinced you had a
lover in the wings
waiting to take you
away from my lost.

Paint me in watercolors.
  Bring me back to life.
  Hues of laughter and desire,
  light inside brilliant light
  husky brawling of youth
  half naked, sweating, proud.

Not all love is lost as time can't heal all wounds.
   Lust has no use for time beyond a fortnight. It withers.
   Keep your heart under lock and key but your knees apart
   for my midnight wine stoked visit to your sacred chamber.

I'm old. You passed several years back.
I live half remembered life as my memory
is robbed a little more each day.
I have the ticket stubs from our first date.
The Graduate. I always see me in the back
of the church at your wedding pounding
glass wailing your  name begging you
to be with me when the light goes out.
You're always beside me in bed at dark.
I smell and taste and hold your ghost.

We poets watch the world our eye
    glued to a microscope. We pick it
    apart and we lecture in slow motion.
    We examine nerve ends as blood explodes
    when your soul mate breaks your heart.
    We've felt your pain and suffer with you.
    We are undertakers dressed like clowns.
    We are clowns dressed as undertakers.

You're done your share of suffering.
A lamb set afire to fulfill ancient rituals.

    You're cursed with a drawn out death sentence.
        Cancer is your grim reaper. Death with irony.
        The cure is worse than the disease. Poisons in
        your blood hoping to bring this monster down.

        You won the first battle. The war rages on.
        We celebrated and toasted that it regressed.
        It lived to fight again. It invaded new areas.
        Radiation to the brain tried to **** the *****!

        The enemy was routed but not vanquished. It
        came back with a vengeance, determined to
        outlive its host and **** and pillage as the
        victors always do. We hope you'll be pain free.

        I pray for you to die in the rain as it's death's
        Absolution. Forgiven. Reborn into another womb.  
        New lifetime to fill the pages of your life with
        whatever comes your way. We will never forget you.

You brought us all to certain life, flesh and blood
  and every piece of celluoid with blinks of eyes we
  think it's real! You follow us home into our dreams
  replay every scene all night long and we wake wiser.

I learned abuse from my
war torn father. He taught
me cruelty and hair trigger
anger. Always anger at me
and those I hoped to love.
I hate me. I don't know why.

You fool no one but yourself
  with ***** and peppermints.
  You slur words and stumble.
  I will love you always.
  You're the funniest man I
  will ever know and kindest
  and fiercely loyal to a fault.
  You're broken and know it.
  You don't know how to fix it.
  I'll keep your broken as best
  I can. We'll live in a crooked
  house on a crooked street with
  less and less. Our world is
  small. It shrinks often as our
  friends and family drink into
  their early graves as sure as
  you will or give up on us as
  too broke to bother with.

I'm frantically looking for my *****.
  It's hiding behind my chair like a cat.
  Like old lovers we feel comfort again.
  Don't tease me like that. I need you.

I'm an altar boy raised by nuns
trying to dance on the wild side with
guilt my constant companion. I bury my
conscience under absinthe and *******.
I wake naked and bewildered among people
searching for clothes caught in piles
never to be found again. We cover our
shame with anything we can and slither
out the door in splendid wonder at what
we dared do in such a strict world. We
are strangers who will meet again in
tomorrow's ****** of our own creation.

My liver is leaking.
   My heart escaped prison.
   I've never felt more alive.
   I'm in the combat zone where
   ****** sell love and queens
   give love away for a song.