I steal what I want.
    The sun and moon and
    your heart and stars
    time and beauty and
    wistful looks crying
    I'll build a universe
    for us. We are King
    and Queen. I steal dreams.
    I always dream of you
    You dream of me too.

People in relationships
are not half of each other.
We are complete in ourselves.
Just complement each other's
strengths and weaknesses,
when you meet the mothers.

****** young but old
my naked slave sold
popping bubble gum.
Tempt old men for fun.

I was lying on a shrinks couch
and had a straight jacket moment
when I couldn't find a window or door.
He prescribed ****** for 15 years.
I finally came back from living dead,
staring into the shining sun no fears.

I put lipstick on a pig and
    called her my love. She was
    a queen of Somerville. I love
    willing women of beauty.

    I knew it wasn't going to go
    the distance. It was shallow.
    Not love but a siren singing,
    tempting me to a rocky shore.

    There lies our relationship
    an empty lung or two, burst
    arteries, exploded heart and
    putrid once beautiful flesh.

I'm dragging myself cross country
   once again trying to find a place
   that I can recognize as home. I'm
   aching for my own kind. Tired of
   temporary jobs and lovers in bars
   I don't recognize in the morning.

Life to death
are bookends to
our story lived,
Birth to Burial.

Church bells are mute this time.
Carols are quiet in a silent night.
Tree lights are dark and children
laugh without mirth. It's a funeral.
Christ was aborted from a womb in
a Hollywood motel on 5th and Main.
Return all the toys and ***** candles
and pour the eggnog down the drain.
Elves work in sweatshops in China.
Burn Santa in effigy slaughter his rides
12 fillets and beers on the house
and slippers of reindeer hides.

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 English tea.
   Sunlight won't come this far north past 96th st.
   It knows better. This happens in East Harlem.

We wore suicide vests
into our love nests.
Friends come and go
some fast some slow.
Drunk on your wine
everything was fine.

I keep drinking trying to beat
the life out of me before I lose
my fragile sanity and speak truths
nobody wants to hear. It shatters
their bones and exposes secrets.
Suffer in silence and die discreetly.

I live below the Thunder
the floor beneath I wonder.
They walk above loudly
a ******* all proudly.
Are you here forever
check out date never?

We're loose power lines in an angry storm. Dangerous
  because we state truths that mere mortals don't want
  to hear. They color inside the lines and live within
  the box. They seek safety. At times I envy them.

  I refuse to live in a black and white world.
  I drag crayons wildly on the paper and draw
  what others can only entertain in nightmares.
  We'll gather in alleys and graffiti our hearts.

I will love you
when I die I'll
stir your brew
in death smile.

My arms are wrinkled linen
muscles betrayed me somehow
I have thin parchment skin
My face felt farmer's plow.

I hate when people I know die.
The rest of humanity is a lump of clay.
I see my friends souls fly
strangers just die another day

He had to flee his Ireland.
The God ****** British
stole his life and land.
He floated to America.
John Donovan from Cork
was my great grandpa.
Stubborn as a mule and
strong as an ox he lived.
There's a deep dark hole
for Irishmen to bury anger.

I will feel your lips
send me on my way
beyond life's blips
and the day to day.

The sky's so clear
  in the atmosphere
  stars perch on a tree
  caged birds set free
  my mind takes flight
  into the cold night
  old lover's heartbeat
  naked in the street
  I'll chase her heat
  I saw her in a window
  her curly hair in a bow
  when I just can't feel
  what's dream or real
  my dogs walk me home.
  I still yearn alone.

Do you know these people
  dirt poor with joyful eyes?
  No tears or pity asked they
  work hell's cloudless skies
  every meal fatback and beans  
  sharecropper hands of stone
  Sunday overalls starched go
  to Church praise Jesus, atone.

Life's a carnival, a festival and
    a tragedy and comedy in one pie.
    It's a terrifying and wild roller coaster
    and that first time in the deep end
    when you thought you'd never find
    another breath but did. It is lost in
    time in the bumper car ride at Coney.
    It's kissing grandma's corpse goodbye.

Turn the other cheek
would make her weak
I'll  never be forgiven
to madness I'm driven
Katie's estranged hell
lost in my wishing well.

First it steals small names
   then dreams of cunning lust.
   It smothers white hot desire
   then steals my flaccid trust.

   It hides joys I knew and my
   hate I once kept in my head
   steals lovers not forgotten.
   It buries me before I'm dead.

We wear white hats
and ride white horses
to rein in the sheep
to right wrong courses.

I've known you for years. Grandad introduced us.
    You always made the room glow and laughter flow.
    You forgave me when I betrayed those I promised
    to never betray. You made me smarter than I was
    and clever when I was dull and modest when clever.
    There's always a madness in the air when you grace
    us with your presence.
    I plan your funeral. I bury you in a potter's field.
    I buried you  before.. Like Christ you rise.
    I put a stake in your heart and salt on your grave.
    You refuse to be banished from the lives we live.
    Maybe you'll stay buried inside me in my grave.

Cold beds hot hearts
neglected garden dies
Hot hearts hot beds
Eden's garden thrives.

On cool back burner
resentment simmers
love turns to black
hatred for dinners.

It's huge
melodious centrifuge
stealing rhythm
with no misgiving
from each to give
to each to live
fabulous Commune
a marvelous tune

Romeo and Juliette
in love never forget
Sharks and Jets dieing
never stop the trying.

insane love is the best love
you fight yourselves to death
then **** yourselves to life
your kiss is your first breath.

I'm worried. I heard a crack
   in the universe last night.
   When too much weight is on
   humanity to always do right.
   Our team is losing this fight.
   It is a terrible fright tonight.

We were young and beautiful.
     We tasted each other and feasted
     on our banquet. I smell you still
     I'm 73 and you're beside me in bed
     in dreams that are more alive
     than my daily crawling to death.

They tried to break me.
I kept spitting out the bit.
You can't tame the righteous  
Fire burned my spirit.
Wedding bands won't
shackle me like chains
I buck and snort and rebel
burn you with my flames.

This old poet poses with his worn out lines.
     Tender poetry of youth and love's beginnings
     and faltering steps beyond puberty's uncertainty.

     I've pounded my love on typewriters, each letter
     has a part to play in this drama with a weight
     all its own. Smash a key and it opens old wounds.

     This beast is my heart demands fresh love.
     I find love again and again and again. Love.
     I see my final horizon. I see a lovely angel.

The dogs are playing poker.
Quincy favors one eyed jacks.
The cats are always scheming.
Mice have the best laid plans.
Raccoons rob garbage cans at night.
Bears play Rugby in the clearing.
Pigs grab the grub by the seconds.
Dingoes look for babies to eat.
Nessie in the Loch is very timid.
Sunset Strip wildlife is insane.

I screamed insanity
to set myself free
parked the UHaul
in the proper stall
checked in the hotel
in the city of angels
on our way to paradise
dreams are too fragile
she refused to go away
we drove another day.

We've all gone crazy lately.
I don't wear a tie or cut my hair.
I smoked some hash and lost my
mind a little bit. Save me from
a world I don't recognize anymore.
I dress like a clown and eat drugs
to keep me up and down and level.
Friends are straight or hippies each
seeking their very own Nirvana and
I walk a tightrope above them both.

I never believed in anything
as much as I believed in you.
I'll never forget you. Your
heartbeat is still in my own.
You taught me how to love.
You taught me patience and
humility and to be kind when
it wasn't deserved but needed.
God's own Golden Retriever.

I pride myself in honesty
after all the years of lies.
No more games don't see
tears as my face just dies.

Notable characters I've known
touched raw nerves I exposed
vulnerable like being alone
forever in a Polaroid posed.

My life is not a page
full of pretty poetry
more like fire of rage
Hiroshima imagery
molten hearts boiled tears
flowers were never grown
countless wasted years
lives were never known.

God must be Irish.
He can't forget a slight.
He only sees darkness
never sees  the  light.

We nailed Jesus Christ
son of God to a cross.
Waiting for tribulation
for His heinous loss.

As Cesar was assassinated.
Rome burned as Nero despaired.
A lyre string wept for his death.
Rome's bones weren't spared.
We remember crown of thorns,
Crucifixion, 40 lashes and denial.
Bury Assange before sundown.
Empires hate truth's bright light.

We poets are witnesses to history
as it unfolds before us and most
people don't hear the banging of
drums or the joy of children laughing.
We write our feelings. Most of us feel
too much and suffer because of it
but we are driven to record the
tears and fears and bombs exploding
and screaming of men in trenches  as
they lose limbs or lives. We spell it
out in poems. We offer our souls
to the mob and fear they eat it.

old enough
to know better
never old enough to
forget her pleasure
lost the map to it
the buried treasure
search my heart
for promised start
never find an X
no Eden's ***
no youth's excess
no more I confess
I broke all hearts
flame less bonfire
of the broken parts
screams of desire.

A ****** horror show
  promises of death's door
  anchors pretend to know
  we believe but we ignore.

I'm a worn out old man.
I want to go back to Alcott
where the world was in a jar
and we were masters of the
woods. We knew the creeks and
lake and swung on vines Tarzan
like and ran home to supper and
homework and TV and slumber
and dad off to work at 5am hacking
in the bushes and off he went in
the flesh colored rocket ship that
was a a '57 Chevrolet Bel Air.

You weren't seen
in my blind spot
too old so young
perfect ink blot
no trouble at all
self absorbed dad
in and out of love
edge of mind mad.
I forgot to care
for the tattered
broken Daughter
always mattered.

Just when I think I'm a real poet,
I find my very own poet laureate.
The Poetic Nicole is the blinding
light we'd all do well to emulate.

1+1 = Love?
Marriage Dove
Wedding storm
Love never torn.