So still, the air this night does sing,
beyond a truthful stare
A symphony on silent wing,
sweet lyrics on the air

Of every word my heart does find
in rhythmic tapestries
These choruses shall make you mine,
so soft upon the breeze

O’ wind come take this tender heart
and to the sky now lift
In solitude now weave the dark
in dreams of endless kiss

Imagine there are only two,
affectionate thy voice
In melodies of passion new
O’ starry night rejoice

I call upon this springtime moon,
bright sentry high above
Please sing aloud a wondrous tune
within the key of love

So that her ears may come to know
how sweet this world can be
When hand in hand through life we go
in perfect harmony

Why life are you so cruel?
Find a girl you like?
Nope, she's probably moving.
Or find a boy you like?
He's probably moving too.
Study hard for a test?
Nope, you'll get a B.
Learning a new language?
You'll never be fluent.
Got a lot of homework to do?
You'll procrastinate till 12.
Practice hard for something?
You'll do average.
Going some place amazing?
You'll forget the camera.
Why life, must you be so cruel to me?

I sat there before the man puzzled in a loss for words now I finally understood how most people dealing with me felt for a change.
So what do you think?

The man asked with a gleeful look in his eye minus the ****** gay *** musical covers of once kickass music .
Looking at the cover of what was supposed to be my master work A Cold Beer Beats A Warm Heart yes a shameless self plug really if that's the lowest you believe I have sunk in life I feel sorry for you.

I viewed the cover looking for a nice rational response to my publisher let's call him **** for brains ******* I wish would die!
And you thought I hated the like button.

It ******* ****'s **** amigo.
What ? ,Are team spent hours designing this it's catchy and edgy
it screams you .

I knew this man without a doubt was on far better drugs than I had ever tried in my life once told me one thing.
I really needed to figure out where this guy  hid his drug's.

Okay what don't you like about it?
Duh who wants a picture of Leonardo Dicaprio  on there cover of there book.

What? The man looked at me stunned then looked at the cover again
that acid must really be kicking in for he kept doing this several times before finally breaking his odd silence.

It's a picture of a water bottle next to some swiss cheese .
Duh ******* I said in a respectful manner like I said who wants a picture of that ****** bag Leonardo Dacaprio on there cover .

What the hell are you talking about this cover is brilliant we have been working like almost  one whole day to put this together  now what's the ******* problem with it?

The publisher said this to me in his outside voice and being it was indoors it led me to believe the stuff he was on was wearing off .
I had to try another approach I had to  get down to his level and this couldn't be achieved with any store bought whiskey so I broke out
my trusty mason jar and took a big hit of some good corn whiskey.

After finally catching my breath and when my vision slightly returned I broke my silence.

Look my friend it's simple when selling a book with my name on it
the reader expects a few simple thing's
One bad taste and bad spelling.
Two long writes of total ******* with lots of mentions of ******* .

And most important a cover with some hot half naked  strippers duh
what doesn't say poetry like hookers ?

Okay and your point is this strange man who signed me to a contract
yet thought for some reason the crazy **** I spoke of was simply a act.

My point is you can't put a picture of Leonardo Dicaprio on my book.

It's not a picture of him it's a water bottle next to some swiss cheese .

Shh I told this delusional man, far worse than myself .

I motioned him to lean closer and in a whisper I said what about the curse?

What ******* curse he said once again in much to loud of a voice I swear this man was far harder to train then one of my barley legal girlfriends  course I didn't have my whip or coyotes I'm kidding I don't have any coyotes what do I seem like Lily Mae ?

Look sir everyone knows  about the Dicaprio .
The what ?, Are you ******* insane  ?
Well yes but that's not the point here sir by the way what's that sent your wearing?

Oh it's axe do you  like it's broke back swallow lighting.
No actually I was going to ask had you ran over a skunk or a French *****  .

We rambled on a bit and after couple of hit's from Mr Gonzo's  family recipe.
Then just to drag this ****** out we spoke about how axe body spray is great if you want to smell like a French ***** not that I know any but hey message me I'm always here cause I have no life .

But enough with the foreplay children.

I told my ever so high and drunken pain in the **** friend the legend of the Dicaprio and how if you said his name four time's in the mirror after the fourth time he would appear  and then take you hostage while torturing you with the cruelest act possible .

Making you watch all his boring *** movies while jerking him off on the couch till you were bored to death.

Oh my God ! ,The publisher responded in terror !
We have to stop this book from getting in the hands of young people everywhere !

The publisher knowing just how serious this matter was called the publishing house slash back room in a Atlanta **** theater .

But it was to late the books had already been sent out .

And soon something far worse than a zombie outbreak would take hold of the world one city at a time .
Dear Lord what had I created ?

It all started off so innocent just like a **** movie with script really does anyone care to have art direction in there ****?
Some little hamster would buy the book in some bargain rack thinking why is that ****** bag Leonardo on the cover ?

Then they would show it to a friend the book I mean whatever they do in there private life is up to them I'm not judging but if there hot chicks send me a pic or two I'm just saying throw a dog a bone  .

But then the two hamsters would always mention hey have you ever Dicaprioed?  
And as always that heartless ******* would strike again dam you James Cameron  what did you unleash upon this earth.

I would go in hiding in shame for my creation of course I still spent my royalty checks on hookers ***** and *******  but although I seemed happy inside I was hurting .
Duh I'm kidding  hell anyone dumb enough to summon the dark lord of boring *** movies gets what they deserve.

My publisher would hang himself well I can always wish .

And as all ten of my devoted fans scratched there heads as to why is there a pic of a ****** bag on the cover .

The answer was simple .

Cause publishers are stupid and more high than I could ever be so
don't sign **** kids or you to will be driven into the depths of further madness much like yours truly .

Stay crazy.

Gonzo

I don't know how many bottles of beer
I have consumed while waiting for things
to get better
I dont know how much wine and whisky
and beer
mostly beer
I have consumed after
splits with women-
waiting for the phone to ring
waiting for the sound of footsteps,
and the phone to ring
waiting for the sounds of footsteps,
and the phone never rings
until much later
and the footsteps never arrive
until much later
when my stomach is coming up
out of my mouth
they arrive as fresh as spring flowers:
"what the hell have you done to yourself?
it will be 3 days before you can **** me!"

the female is durable
she lives seven and one half years longer
than the male, and she drinks very little beer
because she knows its bad for the figure.

while we are going mad
they are out
dancing and laughing
with horney cowboys.

well, there's beer
sacks and sacks of empty beer bottles
and when you pick one up
the bottle fall through the wet bottom
of the paper sack
rolling
clanking
spilling gray wet ash
and stale beer,
or the sacks fall over at 4 a.m.
in the morning
making the only sound in your life.

beer
rivers and seas of beer
the radio singing love songs
as the phone remains silent
and the walls stand
straight up and down
and beer is all there is.

593

I think I was enchanted
When first a sombre Girl—
I read that Foreign Lady—
The Dark—felt beautiful—

And whether it was noon at night—
Or only Heaven—at Noon—
For very Lunacy of Light
I had not power to tell—

The Bees—became as Butterflies—
The Butterflies—as Swans—
Approached—and spurned the narrow Grass—
And just the meanest Tunes

That Nature murmured to herself
To keep herself in Cheer—
I took for Giants—practising
Titanic Opera—

The Days—to Mighty Metres stept—
The Homeliest—adorned
As if unto a Jubilee
’Twere suddenly confirmed—

I could not have defined the change—
Conversion of the Mind
Like Sanctifying in the Soul—
Is witnessed—not explained—

’Twas a Divine Insanity—
The Danger to be Sane
Should I again experience—
’Tis Antidote to turn—

To Tomes of solid Witchcraft—
Magicians be asleep—
But Magic—hath an Element
Like Deity—to keep—

419

We grow accustomed to the Dark—
When light is put away—
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye—

A Moment—We uncertain step
For newness of the night—
Then—fit our Vision to the Dark—
And meet the Road—*****—

And so of larger—Darkness—
Those Evenings of the Brain—
When not a Moon disclose a sign—
Or Star—come out—within—

The Bravest—***** a little—
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead—
But as they learn to see—

Either the Darkness alters—
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight—
And Life steps almost straight.

that we exist
that we are whole
that we are worthy
that we are accepted
that we are respected
that we are connected
that we are appreciated
that we are of consequence

that we even matter at all...

Colorful lies,
Pastels the color of your lips,
On mine.

Colorful eyes,
Pastels the color of your lips,
Without mine.

Narcotic sleep so sound,
I thought We'd wake deep under ground.
And your colorful lies,
Don't make me see home no more.

No, no more.

It's been a while,
Since I've slept so soundly.
My head is filled with thoughts,
Suicidal, so profoundly.

So don't tell me to put it down,
This razor feels so comfortable.
Like your colorful eyes,
And the pastels that bleed from the hole made by this,
Needle again.

No, don't tell me to put it down.
I've got my rig filled with sweet,
Oh so sweet, salt filled morphine.

And I've gotten my spoon and cotton,
Held together by the tourniquet,
That holds together my veins each night.

And your colorful eyes,
Fill my rig each time,
The needle finds a vein.

And pastel colors,
Fall like rain down staircases,
Beautiful close your eyes and lips this time,
You're just too jaded, far too wasted.

So I guess I'll bring you home,
Crawl under the covers,
And watch your colorful eyes,
Close one last time.

I guess I'll watch them close just one last,
Oh just one last ******* time.
And I'll hold your hand,
Just hold your hand in mine.

As I watch your colorful eyes,
Close just one last time.
I'll hold your hand,
I'll hold your hand in mine.

I was taught at a young age,
To watch what bridges I burn.
But something daddy didn't know,
Was that creating them can be just as destructive,
As setting them aflame.

i know i am not perfect
my teeth are crooked
i've lost my sheen
i'm aware of all the dents that are me
i know i am not perfect
for i am a re-gifted prize
however a prize is a prize
even if not in your eyes