Bumpy reptilian skin splits to reveal
a placid galaxy of green cream
that moves through my throat
like a greased pig on a waterslide
and spreads like wildfire in my belly.

I am fueled by the divinity of now,
before the indifferent air of tomorrow
ruins such simple perfection
and the only option is to start over,
the pit,
only half above water.

Coffee blotched wool woven seats
Impassive solidarity on your ***
Dank rapidness
Screeching scream let loose as we transend
Through bleak blackness
Thoughts stream
"Wisdom teeth dont make you any brighter"
"But Starbucks coffee makes my stomach..."
...turn left
Stale air in my every crevasse
The doors to the train open
Crowded shuffles between aged avacado quiescent places
Those weary may rest on, float on
Shallow jolted perfume
As cucumber melon intoxication erupts
On undetermined destinations
Aspiring poets gaze
Out into the open world of
Twinkling city stars
On curved paths
On dipped forks in the road
"All passengers must exit"
Crowded shuffles between aged avacado quiescent places
Those weary return home

I got my favorite motto from a little avacado
Green is good, brown is bad, the pit is hard to swallow
We can drown in bottles
The good Snows' always yellow
And my Molly's always coddled
Got a Tab at the bar so I went home and thought I dawdled
Woke up hulking in a schoolbus dropped the wheel and hit the throttle
they ask me why I am the way that I am, aristotle
I reply why the ***** the world have to be so monochrome and awful?
And we just lie to ourselves, that what we find in this hell
Makes all the suffering that we endure all worthwhile well
**** that
Before you kiill yourself
they say call me up
it's 1 800
No one gives give a ****

i stand here
near
this shore of
light but
where do
i go
i feel
the winds of
change
in your eyes
i feel
the
avacado
green light
in your smile
of honestly

Vegetarian
Eat
Green
Edible
Avacado
Beans
Lemon eee

I painted the lips on the clown, But it didn't wash,
In fact it was de facto.
My life was in the toliet,
And I was on flush mode.
Lost to hangovers and headaches, The stuff of
Bad dreams and sad sleep.
And it was all the same
As the red sun rising
To the stink of the highway
With the semi's belching
As I wake to the ***** window.
And the laundry needs doing,
And you have two days
Left on the rent.
And no cigarettes and no job,
And Little Joe's the color
Of avacado on the
Cheap Motel TV.

Hail Ceasar, sleeping on the grass on the edge of the woods. And never you said,
To no one until the cop woke
You saying you best be
Getting on. And Hoss
Tips his hat saying "Shucks
Ma'am " in his green
Slow witted smile.
While in the comfort
Of my cheap motel
The bloated afternoon
Goes on forever.
And I slipped and slid
On the brink of twenty,
And Matt Dillon
Eyes Miss Kitty.
As you remember the bronze
Young boy who dreamed
Of the desert and bats
Rising from dark caves,
Casting beauty in the shadow
Of the mountains.
As I practice this pause with such rare inflection.

Well, back to our show.
Canned beans and bologna
And nary a witness to the
Strange hell of drinking
On a Tuesday afternoon.
And Pa Cartwright looks
Resplendent the color
Of tomato.
And you drink down another
And wake to the stinking
Trucks on their way
From the terminals
To the blight of the
Inner city. And I blurred
Out for a few years,
Coming awake in the 90's.
And I write this poem
To the wind, Forgetting
The cheap motel TV.
I channel Bukowski,
Write a couple lines,
Catch the wave,
Bang on the keyboard,
Write these lines with abandon.
Go the way of the elephant,
Strong in life and graceful
In death. Sleep the long sleep,
Wake to forever.