I hear talk, of the cruelty, and heartlessness of humans,
but I see things on a regular basis that disprove this.
There is no cruelty in a childs kiss, the gently caressed cheek
that puts a smile on your face.

But, today I saw the clincher,
a RIP sticker,
for
A Squirrel...
It hit me like a punch made out of "What the ****?"
I didn't know whether to smile and break into tears,
or shake my head in curmudgeony disbelief.
A memorial sticker for a road ****...

Would an animal do such a thing.
I think not. They'd eat the thing
or just as some leave it to rot.
A Road **** memorial sticker
is about the craziest compassionate thing I've seen...
Animals don't memorialize us when we die...
Of course, that's not true.
I remember my dad's old mangy bloodhound...
and how, after he died, she moaned everyday, at the time he used to come home from work.
For weeks she did it, just sitting  by the door
and moaning.
Until the sun set,
then she would slink and lie at the foot of his chair..
She died two months later.
And if that isn't mourning I don't know what is.
Maybe animals and humans aren't all that different,
we just mourn differently.

I can remember the first time
I stepped through the mirror
into the Umbra.
Flash
crashing glass
into darkness.
Being propelled along by arms darting
from out of the darkness
squeezing and groping,
ripping off clothing.
Then came the mouths,
too many mouths to count,
it was maddening,
******* and licking
shoving and poking
endlessly forward
through a sensual gauntlet,
soon I was pushed to the floor
at soon I was being ******,
one after another, mounted by a horde
of hot flesh, gyrating,
hands probbing, and squeezing.
Gasping for air,
after mouth after mouth covers mine,
tongues tongues tongues tongues,
Coming,
over and over again,
eyes bulging with maddening release.
Alk the while propelled forward,
the floor a conveyor belt,
and just when the pleasure becomes too much to take,
it all goes away,
and I'm dumped unceremoniuosly in a blinding white chamber,
surrounded by mirrors.
And As I crawl to my feet, naked and wet, sore and aching
I look up into the mirror,
and I see that
I am you...
That was the last time I stepped into the Umbra.

I've met people that live their lives like a burning building,
All motion and light, excitement, smoke and fiery glow.
They mostly have wavy hair, like the constantly moving surf.
I'd like to think I am this kind of person,
For the allure they project,
But in the end, opposites don't attract,
Only opposite personalities.
If there are no similarities, then
Nothing will come of it.

I'm a gently flowing river,
Only when my temper melts the icecaps,
And the melt water rushes down,
Only then do I rage.
(Flash flooding on occasion)
A burning building and a river,
About as far apart as two personalities can go,
This goes to show you how this funky freaky universe works.
Cosmic soda jerks, making asteroid root beer floats,
***** floating through blackness,
Flaming and frigid stars and comets,
All spinning just right, to create this magnetic field
That drew me to you.

I meander and I have my rapids and waterfalls,
My shallow pools, and deep ravines.
But you rage with a fire that cannot be extinguished.
It is a marvel when we collide,
And together we make steam.

Mixed up messed up
wacky Yankee doodle world,
curled up in a ball
like an animal should,
its no good running guns
and popping and burning in your own hood.
Used to be bike chains and brassknuckles
A Filipino dude with a balisong,
but now its a Beretta in every waistline.
Machine pistol mean mugs
putting drugs above people
in the hierarchy of the streets,
cold blooded hits, where there used to be beating.
No wonder every Tom **** And Harry, is crying Apocalypse Now!
It's not over till everybody gets a chance to sing, take it all in.
Begin anew, step through, and claim the future you want for your great grand children.

She was such a sweet thing.
Barely seventeen,
To my barely sixteen.
Steam was rising from the blacktop,
She was wearing a baby blue tube top
With shorts to match.

A little on the chubby side,
You know I like that,
Before I could think to kiss her
She kissed me.
Like a viper strike she was on me.
Fierce and deep.

Backed up in an alley,
I didn't have to dilly dally with my belt,
I left it on the balcony at Scramble's house.
She had her shorts down before I could blink.
Sunk down...no, she slinked,
like my pants that pooled around my ankles

Standing I entered,
She pulled me in deeper,
Leapt up, wrapping her legs around me
And I held her up against the wall
And I drove my hammer home,
Each ****** a moan.

Rapidly increasing speed,
Infinite fulfillment of need,
You can call it greed,
The way she took my seed.
In that alley we hid and smoked ****,
My first child was conceived.

That day I knew she'd be my wife,
Kas came 9 months later,
A little pink beauty with crystal blue eyes.
I can't disguise the love I have for you,
It's true, there were many girls I had had before you,
You were the first one to make me wanna stay.

I lovd you,
This will be true long after the worms have their way with me.
I'll be weighting, for them to come mold cerulean seas
For the flag to be unfurled,
For your face and chest to be pearled,
For the end of the world,
By your side.

Nobody got anywhere in this life
throttling bums,
and robbing hotdog vendors,
but a Saquatch eating a knish on top of a flipped bus
is a sight that sticks to the roof of your minds eye.
Let's eat caramel apples down by the seawall,
trade tall tales, and lizard scales,
run for the hills, but settle down in the shadow of the valley.
Prickly pear and agave nectar, nopal cactus fruit,
blended together, you can hardly taste the tequila.
I'll boost you onto the roof, and hand up my guitar,
and you'll help me climb up,
singing and chanting till the sun knocks us off the room,
we'll go pool hopping, with ski masks on,
and steal lawn ornaments,
and eat churros, and drink egg cream.
and kiss under the Brooklyn bridge.
I just gotta go throttle this ***
and rob this hotdog vendor.
If there isn't a sasquatch
I'll be home by the apocalypse.
Then we can get naked,
and set off the sprinkler system,
and dance in the halls.
Until the sun explodes,
and 2+2= 37.

If it seems like my love has gone on holiday,
it not a slight or desertion,
I'm just trying to get the temperature just right.
To make you feel the way I feel when you make me laugh,
sigh, or tremble, because I cannot hold you at this moment.
You make me make noises a grown man shouldn't be making,
I can erase deep depression, with the impression of you stored in my album,
You open parts of my mind I thought had been welded shut.
I think of you at odd times, four in the morning,
drinking juice out of the carton,
because I live alone, and can do that,
I remember something you did for me,
and the juice tastes like your mouth.
I want you to have the crown jewels, I want you to sip champagne in paradise,
but all I have to give is these weathered memories,
and this brokendown soul, full of love
for you.