I want to walk
with you.

I want our footprints
along the ocean shore.

I want you to
look at me the way I look at you.

Except that just like those footprints,
your love for me has disappeared.

(-DF-04/304/16-)

i

i think why not to let
but proved the query set
a double somersault-twist
or kiss your sweet lips..

can  end in cold death-
still the birds in the trees
go cheep or not at all..
i have reason to not question..

ii

i have memories return from the crib
it is all just part of the aging process
we beetle by saying that can´t be right
the lights´ get bright and bright..!

birds talk to us but i don´t hear voices
we become preoccupied with prices..
i recall four blackjacks  a penny
dying has a long curious way..

i am pretty sure i am someone else
absolute and completely and yet
these early feelings as blithe pictures
remain constant..



iii


more work less ******* about
but creation is just living
some absolute and indistinct
(it is tough being a poet..)..

iv

lily says,for it is her,
you don´t play no more,
only i say in mind
the years don´t lie
content´ s fragile store..
repetition dulls the brightest
core..eventually a silent purr ask´ s why
not why not..

v

why write poetry says lily
because it is a futile act
of achieving something perfectly..
we like that..


or like stubbing one´ s little toe
a rabbit from a dream hat
in a vain effort to retain what
remains of my memory..

lily why not or why bother..
lily red diamond from her
eyes sparking like a star is
just a ******* star baby..

she half nelson bottle wine
why do anything..a sign
a metaphor an hieroglyph
love and hate lily..

or the little bird in the agaves
i would like to shoot that one
hate and love lily
porquoi-pas..

vi

i read o twenty years before actually commiting to paper
not much but i knew the stuff i loved and kept there
i know it was charles bukowski i loved his funky gear
thank you norwegion liz for lending me his books dear..

ham on rye and factotum you say don´t lose them mf
i swore i would not lose them i would not lose them kf
kind friend..but i lost them i lost them..df..
dumb ******..


i leant them to someone that swore the same
they suffered an horrendous head..crang..
on and the books lost the books got lost..
there was scant satisfaction in plaster form..

maybe they went to a happy home
so not my fault that his drunk poems
god is he fun liz i hear your laugh then
such a wild sound ..generous so!

you said i should write and thank you
only human to encourage me true
and always a good drinking companion
you bought decent wine..

i adored cognac o..that was my poison
you always attracted van gelis errant tounge
unpleasant but one had to watch him..
that was his fun..

and then backgammon
goes a bit faint then..
i would like to say i won
you told me roland was cheating..

i think it was fun to play him anyway
esspicially on cement truck day..
not that he ever bought me a drink
not that i liked cement..

i lived with roland actually
this stopped any conversation
i met him by accident in eilat
that place was a laugh..

i think i enjoyed the second time
first loads of day jobs though i
played in the streets..and living with
the russians..

that a blast lily..my immediate neighbor
we never spoke..and the police pulled his hair
and yet not a squeak..a match box of grass cheap
i went to silently get a light..

he did say never run boy..
i thought alright for you
alright,
who was playing late night
in the soft quiet night..

so i was nosy
within the deepest hush
a glass and bottle jungle
impossible this silence

and i could hear him swallow
once the army ran through
i was tucked up in bead reading
by hopeless candle light..

i met roland in the peace cafe
a misnomer if ever there was
he picked me up and tossed me
around..

hey mike we got ****** and under
the landing planes roaring down
aint had hash like that in so many
years..

there was the red lion and at seven
free food and a drink and a movie
i read miguel cervantes..they
play the eye of the tiger later..

then the hard rock cafe with killer
egg and chips
i worked with an architect and made
a few shekals.

vii

i got out of there man i went south
dhab a quiet hut and goats..
that is the life right there..
o the corral beauties..

the stars as glimpsed through the palm..
pretty carpet and soften-songs of balm
brain blown and fly blown
and then back to town..

which came as a shock then
i had a drink and a very nice mention
for the cafe at the bus station..
i salut the the patience of the librarians..

§
Battle of New Britain

Lieutenant Jim G Paulos led elements
of G Company in a savage counterattack
that ousted the intruders supported
by Lieutenant James R Mallon’s improvised
platoon of H/11, which remained
to help man casualty-depleted line.

Improvise (OED):
One: to compose on spur
of the moment; to utter
or perform extempore

two: to bring about or get up
on the spur of the moment;
to provide for the occasion

Three: […] hence to do anything
On the spur of the moment

Improvised platoon
Df James R Mallon:

When most of your platoon
lies dead in the pumice sands
of the South Pacific-Japanese
bushido bullets tear flesh and spirit
out of the corporeal—husks of limp
limbs you fought to defend and they you
Japanese mortar fire, machine and small-gun fire
fifteen yards in advance of the wire
how do you bring about or get up
the courage to grab whoever—
the nearest marine
talk through ears drums burst by mortar succeeding shockwaves
forget for the time the men
you spent months training
sipping beers in Australia
laughing over bar stool drunken jokes
men you shared your dreams about after
away from the mosquitoes
away from the constant moisture
rain rain rain day and night
soaking through fatigues through skin through bone
never enough sun to dry out
air already saturated
sweat or seawater—it is all the same
now you must find new men—men you have seen,
but do not know the same as your own platoon
their life and yours in each others hands
alone in a group of stranger-brothers
always faithful
keep composure in the face
your buddy’s entrails pouring into the pumice sand
hence to do anything
on the spur kicked into your side
to block what no man should ever be asked to see
and do what you can in the moment
to save your division from enemy fire.

§
Cyclops Black Eyes

One summer e’ening drunk to hell
He stood there nearly lifeless
A gal sat in the corner
And it’s how are ye ma’am and what’s yer name
And would ye like a drink?
She looked at him, he at her
All she could do was accept one

And rovin’ a rovin’ a rovin’ she’ll go
Through his pair of blue eyes

She knew not the pumice beaches and streams
Sometimes walking sometime crawling
amongst blood and death ‘neath a screaming sky
Where Cyclops black eyes waited for him
Was it birds whistling in the trees?
Always the Cyclops black eyes waiting for them
So they give the wind a talkin’

And a rovin’ a rovin’ a rovin’ he’ll go
Away from those Cyclops black eyes

And the arms and legs of other men
Were scattered all around
Some cursed, some prayed, some prayed then cursed
Then prayed and bled some more
All he could see were Cyclops black eyes looking at him

No Cyclops black eyes waiting for her
And a rovin’ a rovin’ a rovin’ she’ll go
And never know what saw his pair of blue eyes

Could she forsee in that pair of blue eyes
Decades he’d spend drunk to hell?
Sometimes walking sometime crawling
Rovin’ and rovin’ away from those Cyclops black eyes

§
Colt 1911**

I was nineteen when I learned
my Dad his father’s Colt 1911 pistol

when Dad was young he
and his brother found
the gun—hidden in the rafters
of the cinderblock basement
their father built; magazine bullets and pistol
on one rafter—separate, except
the bullets lived in the magazine

my dad and uncle, like any
young boy, were fascinated
by the pistol; though too young
to feel and know the power
and danger in the cold blue metal

when their father and mother were
away—home alone they snuck
to the hand-laid basement
reached around the rafters
through years of dust and darkness
feeling for the colt and mag
scrape-click-pop—ca-chick
round in the chamber—“freeze!”

so played boyhood fantasies
cowboys & Indians
cops & robbers
with a lethal toy


so my dad kept it a secret
locked in a tarnished steel box
locked through the trigger guard
magazine separate
four silver, dimpled, bullets rolled round between
their queue and releaser

I was struck by the weight—heavier than I expected—I felt the years of use polished into the wood grips—thick hand grease sweat blood humidity sand saltwater gun oil mud tears life saved and taken.
At the bottom of the wood grips ticked notches deep in the grain—both sides—different numbers; “What are these?” I asked running my finger across the nocth-ticks feeling their depths their absence consciously carved with his next best tool—kabar: workhorse that can baton through five inch diameter logs, machete through two-finger branches, dig a hole to burrow while machinegun fire mows down jungle; easy to sharpen, keeps an edge; full tang to hammer temples or tent posts

“I don’t know; the only thing we have is the lore.”

fI counted seven
the number the magazine carries
eight total, if you have one in the chamber

You have to commit to fire
a 1911, the cliché: don’t pull
the trigger—squeeze
is how the 1911 fires—a button
fits the crotch of the thumb and index finger
opposite the trigger on the handle;
to unleash the hammer then
lead, squeeze the two—firm
tight at the target; no shot fired
by accident—no Marvins with the 1911.

l = df + [(s × p + t) / ( h + d + g )] + (a + u + o)*
                                                                        where*,
df = defining moment, the addend of great impact
s = sadness, a constant, never leaving, never changing
p = pain, the demanding factor, the intensifying emotion
t = struggles, the sum of undergoings, of trials and errors
h = happiness, a variable, unknown, changing, conflicting
d = dreams, an addend of the subconscious, hopeful but not certain
g = goals, a variable of direction, a hopeful assurance of the future
a = achievements, the addend of success, a mark of triumph
u = attitudes, a wholesome factor, an important measure
o = thoughts, the shaping addend, the root of transforming, contracting, making

I’m a planet.

I, like them, feel surrounded.

Surrounded and Isolated.

How is that even possible?

I used to think being alone was hard.

Now I realize that I feel alone in a room full of people,

and that’s even harder.

I worry my planet is missing something.

Missing the will to keep moving.

But I know that I must, for I am a planet that will not burn out.

(-DF-03/04/16-)

Don't wait around for someone to bring you flowers.
Breathe in the air that surrounds you.
Let go of the mystery they've left behind.
Clean up the broken pieces.
Mend your heart into one.

While you lay in bed turning at the thought of them
realize that they were never part of the dream.
Stop waiting for them to call you beautiful.
You already are.
There's no need for thoughtless words.

Buy the seeds, plant your flowers.
Treat them with care.
Water them with love.
And you'll see that they'll grow.

There's no need to wait for them to bring you flowers.
Next time they stop by show them your garden.

(-DF-05/27/16-)

I have a hard time believing in love,
yet I still choose to let the thought creep in the back of my mind.

I believe love makes people act in foolish ways,
they seem to forget that the world keeps spinning.

I don't want unconditional love.

I don't want to be loved in a way that isn't fair.
I don't deserve to get away with my ruthless flaws.

I need someone to tell me when I'm wrong.
I need someone to make me see that there's more than one way.

I don't need pity where it isn't deserved.
I don't want to hurt someone who has let me into their heart.

I need raw and honest love to keep me sane.

(-DF-05/27/16-)

I've discovered
That people can slip from your grasp,
And sometimes all you can do is sit and watch.

All I wanted was to be
Your friend.
The person you'd come to.

You were supposed to be
The one.
The only one.

And yet, here we are.
Distant strangers
That never met.

(-DF-04/25/16-)

In a room full of people
my eyes wander across
their faces in hopes
that I'll see you.

At night when I
crawl into bed
I'm hoping that my dreams will
lead me to you.

When I read my
favorite novels, their
lines remind me
of you.

And although I haven't
seen you in quite awhile,

And I'm sure you may not
remember me...

I still look for you.

(-DF-09/21/16-)

If I went back in time
and asked my younger self how I'd be in the future.
I'm sure I would have said many things,
but not in a rare state in between happiness and sadness.

How is it possible that I feel this way?
It's hard pretending like my inner world isn't dying.
The worst part is, some days when the sadness outweighs everything else,
I don't even know why.

Have I caused this on myself?
Other days I'm glad I'm like this,
How would I know happiness if I didn't know sadness?
All I know for sure is that I shouldn't give in to the desires of giving up.

So for now I'll just be in between.
(-DF-04/07/16-)

You're like a smoke detector.
A smoke detector without batteries.

You're supposed to warn me, protect me, save me...
You're supposed to be there before the flames engulf me.

But a smoke detector without batteries is only there for show.
Because by the end of the blaze...

I'm already a pile of rubble.

{df - 03/16/17-}

I want to
lay next to you.

I want to
feel our hearts
beat as one.

I want to
feel your chest
rise and fall
as you breathe
me in.

I want to
feel safe
in your arms.

But I can't...
It's what I want,
not what you need.

(-DF-08/03/16-)

In my dreams I see you driven by passion.
The passion I wish I could have.
You motivate me to become something more.
I'm awoken in a way I've never been before.
Everyone else is a blur, since you are my focus.
When I'm falling you catch me.

And yet, we haven't crossed paths.

(-DF-03/30/16-)

I never knew you could
feel at home with someone.
Safe in someone's embrace.
And then I met you...
You didn't give me flowers,
you planted me a garden.
You didn't just tell me you
loved me, you showed me.
You didn't hurt me,
you saved me.
I was waiting for the
emptiness to engulf me,
but you came along and gave me
a safe haven.

(-DF-03/03/17-)

I don't see you anymore,
but I feel you in all the places I go.

I don't hear you anymore,
and I'm forgetting the sound of your voice.

And I miss you, yet I wonder how that can be, because we have yet to truly meet.

(-DF-12/18/16-)

No one understands the pain that surges through my body.
I am engulfed in flames.
And yet they laugh at me as though it's just a quirk.
As if I want to be this way.

I'm drowning and yet they tell me to swim.
Every breath is a cry of despair.
And yet they stand there breathing without a care.
As if I'm playing a game.

I thought they loved me.
These were the people I had chosen to let in.
And yet they threw away the key.
As if it didn't cost me anything.

(-DF-03/27/16-)

You made the stars shine every night.
The world revolved around you.

The birds chirped for your existence.
The flowers bloomed in your presence.

You ignited a fire with just one look.
The clocks stopped, because with you, time couldn't be measured.

Except you weren't the person I imagined.
You were just an actor performing for the crowd.

You see...

I used to think you were extraordinary,
but you're simply extra ordinary.

(-DF-04/13/16-)

You were
the last
person I thought
would leave...

But you've closed
the door behind
you.

And I'm left holding the key.

(-DF-07/31/16-)

The spirit of this world is selfish.
They tell you that you're all that matters.
Only you can help yourself.
Stop for no one.
Survival of the fittest.
But haven't you stopped to think how messed up that is?
Why must we leave others behind on our endeavors?
As if we didn't have help reaching the finish line.
How stupid to rely solely on your own experience.
Haven't they told you we learn from others?
Who gave you the right to call yourself righteous?
Open your eyes and see that this world wants to destroy you thinking that 'me, myself, and I' is the only way to live.

(-DF-04/01/16-)

jkdhfgu ieoruio tyeuribxvb
jshguiw
afyjksnfs;
sfw k wufuwsj kvhsns
jkasklj hwiofhfj

k gjk dghkjsh rgerug jkfgfjv

bdfgbsjkg
bsjk vnskjf  uiwt ywuir
iwefs df bsdjkfhs rfgsdjk ghsdjfwe i otywr
t y jkghsd jkf wof hweuifh s djkfsd;
fj klsdhge

jksdrhgeryji srjktherj  sdkjgheurt e
lejrhuye
jkeryh  dkrth eriot errwe
n dio
ioeruihdr?

There are hundreds,
Thousands,
And maybe even millions
Of people who are waiting to meet
Someone to spark within them something
Big.

Waiting to find someone to connect with.
We've lived our lives without someone to share the best and worst parts of ourselves.
We are tormented by the unknown.

Yet all we want is someone to call
our own.

(-DF-06/14/16-)

Among all the beautiful stars and constellations,

I found you.

Among them you were the brightest,

The only one.

Among the whole universe,

I chose you.

(-DF-03/11/16-)

You brought me
the galaxies
in the palms of your hands.

You lit a fire in
my heart so intense
that it burned hearing
you say we were a match.

And the words
you spoke to me,
were a melody
that my soul
danced to.

You were like no other
love I've ever known.

(-DF-11/24/16-)

ENWUFHSAUuniubdiuybwyug8G76r7yugbyrD6RTFUYGutf7yg8uhiug765e5
bdgd­gtdtTtR46ObDeTIIUYttrr7tfyrudtwsswedryctvvcrtuiuyiygtrrTVCRED5R6F­Ttcd6ft7gyhuinhbvgcfrd657t8y9uoin]
6644%#%^&(IYTDvubuyF65R67i&^RcU65FRV^rV65r8v&6rt65E476%b%rv865r^v%eV^
i^R^ &86bi7guyDR6T7Y8U9IJNg
UEU8877^^%79hhggUJHF6&TRR;^FG&65r78&864^&(&&%df&y&%D67UYG^RDS765T^b&^vr&BI;^t&^tU65e65t64wsdfu
YG&EY;;t7%R76T76T&9h87gt87yh8g8UHG&^T(hg76fg98&Yt786yhiyvF;^fgyhRt67ygvfrd657y8TR%6t78uYTgi6&*oyf9)8

there is a pattern in this poem, but you can't see it. The only people who can see it are MrDrProfessor Murly, Docter Jedingaling PhD and me, because we're smarterer than you

There was a moment in time
when I couldn't imagine my life
without you...

You were the air
that I breathed.

You meant so much
to me.

I would've never imagined
that your love wasn't real...

And as much as I miss the
memory of what we used to be,

without you, I finally feel free.

(-DF-06/20/16-)

When did everyone grow up?
These people act like they know the secrets of the universe,
but my question is...
When did I stop knowing?

Every morning
I pretend that I'm awake,
That everything is okay.

The truth is, I no longer feel alive.

And so I thought everyone felt this way...
But they don't.
They look forward to talking to their friends.
To going on vacation.
To living their everyday.

And I?
I look forward to closing my eyes.
To hoping that today will be different.
That maybe when I wake up in the morning I'll actually be awake.

When will this unnerving sadness end?
When will I feel alive?
When?

(-DF-08/24/16-)

​
the way that you left me is alright

I wrote you a letter.
I told you how much I cared.
How much you meant to me.
I told you I would never let go.

I wrote about my favorite memories of us.
About the way your hair falls so effortlessly to your face.
I mentioned that you made me feel happy.
That you made me feel alive.

I wrote about the ways you had changed my life.
The way we spoke to each other without pause.
How time stopped when we were together.
How the world stopped spinning for moments on end.

Except you never opened my letter...
You burned it like you burned my heart.

(-DF-06/03/16-)