My cucumber grows
for a lovely ***,
fellow cumbers, trained,
put in rows,
cooling pinch
of old man habanero.
Cuz she is hotter than he,
in this summer heat,
so widespread her angle--
raising beans a'dangle,
as zucchini and I do wrangle,
for he has a large leaf,
but I have a long vine,
tho his girth could cover me,
I could climb higher inside,
to get to my lovely ***,
and she does not like grubs,
unearthed during their rubs,
for she told me so,

Oh my lovely ***,
*** me up, and bat me hard,
send my cucumber seeds
sailing over the neighbors yard.

a zit—(white iceberg tip
                                             infection-floa­ting)

a heart (yours was always lipid-
                                                      ­  slippery)

an ember (firefly abdomen
                                                exhaling in black velvet)

a full bladder—(toilet-bowl relief:
                                                            a temporary prescription)

a bag of hot chips (extra habanero
                                                             for a spicy explosion)

a sink pipe (domestic artery rupture
                                                             ­     of your sledgehammer swing)

a water balloon, (concrete-spiked,
                                                              insoluble rubber jigsaw)

spaghetti in the microwave: (blood
                                                               stain pattern analysis of metal walls)

a seam. (sewn ending
                                       frays: leave the stitch, re-exposed.)

you're a sweet
weekend treat
with spicy hot overtones
and lingering aftertaste of
guilt and
overindulgence
lasting into Monday
for now at least

I'm a pepper ******,
from the mild
to nuclear,
I'll eat them all.

BBQ chicken wings,
roast pork,
baked stork
& tacos,
just pile up the
jalapeños,
ghost pepper,
maye a habanero or two.

All my kin
know how delicious
thay are going down
& how fiery
they are coming out.

But no matter,
I don't care about
the bewares
& shout for more
of those hot
mouth-watering
stemmed
explosive gems.

The sun is a glaring Mom. She has
Nine toddlers in pull-ups robbing a liquor store
They scream like goblins coated
slippery in A+D,
(but the money tastes like sand)
buttery streams of light in the air that smells
like chewed fireworks.

Baby Blue silence. Then

“Langston McCaw! LA County Sheriff!”
the Sheriff is dead McCaw is an accountant over at Sherman and-
But he doesn’t like to talk about it.
Sun setting sets the air habanero
“Look about it” the babies cry
Those chubby voices of rage.
Liquor quivering milky and hot
I ripped the roof and reached-
J-Dog has snatched another thief
And he will take the lil’ ***** to the
holding cell that thinks
Where he will be questioned by
ten petite police

These babies won’t bite the bakers back again!

“Si tu vois ma mere”
broken Bombay bottle sings in despair as
Giant mother tomato sun fell,
Madness doesn’t cease it goes around.

sauntered down
to the
very private
hurt me hurt you club
the waft of perfume
fragrant in the air
***** music
in the distance

the club
a place for hard players
lovers of
voluptuous ****** cruelties

as i approach
the dark glitter lights
of hidden casbah's
dark blood dens
i apprehend
laughing shrieks and tender coos

i hear an old refrain

let me entertain you
let me make you mine
and if your real good
ill make you feel good
and we will have a real good time

trawling hungry masochists
soft furniture girls and boys
holding impossible posses
down side up
embraced by moon skulled sadists
bending bending
oh snap,
blood plumes
again and again and again

popped by
big cocked poppers
arms and legs piled high
soaked in drool
and **** *** yum
silky flesh
habanero hot blood kisses
scurred like a fat lizard
slow cooked
fall off the bone
melt in your mouth
tastes just like chicken

stamina unimaginable
oh the blade sir
as her sweet ****
convulsed in endless waves
of crimson plush shimmers

she faked death sweetly
made believe she couldn't breath
eyes mute
mouth gapping careless
hungry for silky flesh
goes down like a
butter scotch float fizz

posed on the slab
legs wide
like a bridge exposing
tender flanks inner thighs
                  and
pinkish slave feet scorched
tremulous from adorations flames
catharsis
all rocky horror picture show
wrapped in each other like spools

she writhed and cried
another one across
the mouth please
hard harder harder
i need it sir
her yins edge a yang
bottoming the top
almost homicide
her hearts desire
she groans
like a wind through a canyon

blood mouth saliva
gives way to grateful release
and dreadful tears
that vanquish
like rocks through a window
as she bled and ******
a creel of *****
butter butter butter
her mouth a tongue of heaven
hot house girl in a blaze
dancing hell *****
gorgeous !

have you been
To the hurt me hurt you club
a twisted snarl of desire
a trundle of lust
in Satan's back room party
while a tarnished
dark glitter sign glows forth
in bold grotesque
welcome
if you hunger
for kisses that drown
oh so wrong
the sign it self
a neon headless ******* fire
swaying her hips gently
at the arched entrance

a golden voice sings

let me entertain you
let me make you mine
and if your real good
ill make you feel good
and we will have a real good time

Cuando mi madre llevaba un sorbete de fresa por sombrero
y el humo de los barcos aun era humo de habanero.
Mulata vuelta bajera.
Cádiz se adormecía entre fandangos y habaneras
y un lorito al piano quería hacer de tenor.
Dime dónde está la flor que el hombre tanto venera.
Mi tío Antonio volvía con su aire de insurrecto.
La Cabaña y el Príncipe sonaban por los patios del Puerto.
(Ya no brilla la Perla azul del mar de las Antillas.
Ya se apagó, se nos ha muerto).
Me encontré con la bella Trinidad.
Cuba se había perdido y ahora era verdad.
Era verdad, no era mentira.
Un cañonero huido llegó cantándolo en guajiras.
La Habana ya se perdió. Tuvo la culpa el
dinero...
Calló, cayó el cañonero.
Pero después, pero ¡ah! después...
fue cuando al SÍ lo hicieron YES.

Jimmy Page rips into his guitar as I rip into some nachos,
Covered with some real toxic-spicy **** I accidentally created in the kitchen,
And suddenly Black Dog becomes an anthem to my agony.

The habanero peppers dig hooks in as the serannos and the jalapenos begin going to work,
Hitting me with staccato body blows,
Pausing but for a moment before laying in again.

It's as if the very air itself is aflame,
The sriracha's heat sears my throat and lungs,
With the cayenne peppers charring my stomach.

My eyes water,
I want to wail like Plant at the moment,
As sweat begins to gather on my brow,
The sickly sweet stink of the apple cider vinegar used laces the air and stings the nose,
****** hair practically gets singed as it passes.

Page let's loose a riff with his instrument that imitates my heartbeat,
As the heat finally grows too high.

I reach for my only lifeline,
Something almost as terrible as the devil's ketchup itself.

I take the mason jar and take a swig,
And another fire snuffs out the one currently raging in my esophagus and brain.

My breath fast,
Blinking hard and quick,
As the song fades along with a bit of my happiness at creating something so wicked,
As I grab another chip...

This city is bedwetting
herself every night
and her face is so yellow
....
Ammonia leads you
to the bar or to the temple
no tourist guide to follow.
...................
Drunkard mapped it all
wall by wall  and
willow by willow
..........
This city bed wets
herself from the toe
to the pillow
......
It's not too young or too old,
too big or too small
too harsh or too mellow
...
At first it stings like Habanero
then hypnotizes
like a constant deep cello .

i cut a habanero for my lunch
and forgot to clean my hands
i picked my nose
and was quickly drawn
back to reality
it burned but
i grew to like its affect
because i stopped thinking
and worried about my nose

Have you ever walked the habanero row
Worked in spicy air that wouldn't let go
Run to the henhouse like stormy wind
Sit with the chickens till the burning ends* ..

They say women know
how to serve up evil
dishing it out hotter'
than a habanero pepper
eaten raw and whole
with not much of
a chaser
but the sharp sting
of the burn
breaking him down
causing him to cry
for the gates of relief...

Yeah! It slows, the sleigh of 50 memories, my only guests
A toughened werebeast, countenance straight eternally
and the tears that weren't...
Before us remains the wicked lure in which everybody
writes for that laugh a day
However give me 20 of the sassy and 80 less of what you
Want it says our choice is to answer the top furthest,
brim of the cliff... from the fall in one's view
Thanks 'oh personal mystery, the actual writing, of which,
a friend currently claiming to be cool
Do the grounds create a game that leaves us
the means to never go again?
Or is that the duplicitous slop, of over reaching dreams
and fighting the inner self which aspires?
No! It's called ripped- been there - go there,
one more understood quest and food and a cure
I could watch the swaks of heaving formations, as hawks,
pleasing our marching roads of circles in the sky...
And dots below are but the identity of each of whom I protect,
but then you'd know!
So after that I'd have to **** you
There's fun in doing a rummage, old identity pages, instead it's more  common- eletrco fluster bluster of muted moments; typed, gaffed, well shed, separated, this is that and that's why
The thoughts brought on by an archon, her passes dogmatic, as she holds the joke while really thinks preponderance of the free choices that she might make
This tournament... you and your parents, teachers, canons might think by now the house of religious affirmations turned day to switching mosaics of sunsets
Alas their only call, the exiting by the visiting mob of picture viewing drone crowds
Our coaster slows, sleigh of memories... now jump! With any gifts! You must be in the right place, for it's as- amusement parks, they need verbs virtuality triggers, we're a likeness, drums that solo off into the air for commotions and war
Perhaps narrations, the story...a story you'd thought, books help god machines and zeroing in on cops, and floating autumn leaves a puff of happenstance, it all works out
Quenched occasionally through solutions but a triple take seeks mercy, to love and play- it has to hear of mountains
Whosever attempts to be a visitor, brings an equal  shut off valve for in reality wicked  statements burn while still the thirst for christ devil attacks... requisite,
To  land shorter than an idealist empire is tall

No one shows us who owns our journey for we have gifts for the truth in the daily complaint of life.. life  is...

You can cut it with a trick or dollop  or a sweater or garden cutters but your vigil remains a pitiful aftermath of society's battle, what else?

We're not done for, however, there be cheers, anymore, as a wolf eats meat and habanero fricassee cut with cloves smooths your voice...Yoo Hoo... you..who?

It's time for a tournament again, I fear, seek face masks and the foretold free shy and futureal unknowing robots that don't know to begin with... to begin with

Dearest ambition these thoughts though!?... Don't worry their over at stellar morbid factories waiting. lurking, aspiring  amidst the woe