Hold you down. Tie you down. Handcuff you to our big bed. Slowly tear your clothes from your warm smooth body. Down to your bra and *******. Kiss you all over and lick some parts. Then I'll slowly start to unbutton my shirt and take off my pants, leaving me exposed. Slowly, is how I'm going to crawl on your body as I feel your wetness through your ******* and I start to rub my hard **** on the wet stain. I'll slip my hand under your back and unhook your bra and then slowly slip it off with my teeth. Then I'll rip your ******* off with my bare hands. When I see your nice sweet *****, I'll kiss it and then start to lick it. Squeezing your thighs and eating you out as you say my name in pleasure. Then I'll unlock the handcuffs and carry you and put you on top of me. I'll slowly start to slip my hard **** inside your tight *****. As you make your faces of pain and pleasure. As you go up and down on me, everytime I'll go in deeper and gain speed. I'll claw at your back as you're riding me and smack your ***. As I'm playing with your ****, you'll move your hair out of your face. Your sweat hitting my chest, mixing with mine, and me close to *******. I'll look into your eyes as I whisper I love you and you whisper it back. Me letting go will cause you to ****** and our bodies will shake in pleasure. You feel me *** hard inside your *****. You bend down to kiss me and I kiss you back softly.When we leave that room we know that we might have just made a baby...

The handcuff bites my wrist
as teeth sink, searing flesh.
A breath, a scent too familiar to forget.
Blind.
Massive palms, razor point
carving canyons down my spine,
blood is the wine.
The burn of beard
feigning consent.
Fistfuls of hair conquering words.
A corpse to rob me of life,
the press of perversity against satin.
Fighting, writhing
satisfaction.
Pain swells in every limb
the wet swell reveal my sin.
Slaps stinging awake
every fiber of clothing still keeping me safe.
The drive of possession
splitting secrets wide,
fingers around throat clenching tight.
Sweat running red,
the rising growls growls resonate in my head.
The raw force bruising
like claiming a slave,
body & mind consuming.
Ferocity leads to frenzy,
my senses rage against me,
The thickness rips,
devours,
conquers my body for paradise.
And I scream in the ecstasy taken.
A clenching incites eruptions,
the pulsing beast flooding.
My purpose awakened.

Come one come all

*** inside everybody

Please do

Fill yourselves and spill yourselves

Wet your dry spots with your wet spots

Don’t sweat the petty things

But please pet the sweaty things

Dance like a warped record stacked on a broken record

So you can gyrate over a Led Zeppelin ****** of

OOOHHHHYYYEEAAAH and it makes me wonder

Soak my curiosity in your nearly naked

Let’s walk away from this mutually *****

You cantankerous carnivorous man-eating jellyfish

Stumbling to engulf me in your morphine

Lying like amazing lovers do

“No

I won’t leave you in the morning

But it doesn’t mean I will ever love you

I just want you to feel me

You feel me?”

And you left at 4 am just after I passed out

Leaving me stuck with

The wings made of chain-link handcuffs and sheets

Going  from my wrists to my feet

Because you said you always wanted to make love to a butterfly

I thought I could be an angel

Or at least a stingray

So my venom might stay with you longer

But you left like I knew you would

Took the keys and I had to pretend I was wearing a white kimono

And because of the handcuff chain

I just started telling people I was the ghost

Of ***** lovers past

But you go ahead and go on back to your main attraction

I don’t mind workin’ side show

Standing like a man made *******

Pulsing at the thought of you potential

Waiting patiently like a secret

Verbal donkey show

Hollerin on the tail end of dawn

With a secret song on a broken record

When played backwards

“Don’t go”

Its halloween  my favorite time of year.
Grown women running around half naked.
Makes me wanna awake the spirt and grab a beer.

Boy i wish my last nurse dressed like that.
My recovery would have been so much fun.
Oh please miss witch cast a spell on me and turn
me into your loving puddie cat.

oh miss **** police women ya can handcuff me.
I'll go commit a crime just to be guilty.

Yes it's  this goblins favorite time of year.
Where women dress like naugthy  little vixens.
And instead of candy I hand out cheap pickup lines
and beer.

Boy that chicks hot but wait.
Didint  I just  see her  in the guys restroom.
Doing something standing up straight.

Hey man whatcha going as hell who cares.
Im more interested  in  what your hot
wife wears.

From a **** school girl to a smokin french maid.
It's like going to the worlds biggest *******.
No cover charge need be paid.

Who cares bout Freddy and Jason  and other worn out
monsters from the eighties.
Cause all i got say it halloween ladies.

scars of a past I wanted nothing to do with
led me to handcuff myself
to a lampole for security.

I had reached my consensus.

I threw the keys to these cuffs
in mental portals where I thought
no one would dare to ever travel.

Many tried searching
but I intentionally
obstructed access
with deceptive rants of fear and caution.

By then
I was sure
that I had thoroughly built walls of security;
I was safe
...but who would've thought
my aesthetically intellectual design
had a weakness?

The enemy came just as they all did,
hoping to be let in...
but this one reacted differently when the ranting came;
I was now at a disadvantage
because I had no other alternatives for defense.

The enemy showed no care for my security;
It was attractive
And I succumbed while
Never forgetting my plan
Although it seemed my design was nugatory.

My mental lampole and cuffs,
gone.

I was left subjugated
at the feet of a queen
who carried an aura
with the most beautiful spectrum.

Like a bull snake,
promises of security
grappled my core,
draining it of all fear
leaving behind no traces
of deception.

Although defeated,
she still remains my enemy
because serendipity
never seems to stick around.

Ladies of the Net… A warning to male adolescents everywhere…

“Hi Honey….I just got matched with your profile”… At least that’s what I think it said.
Brilliant I thought because I’m available and life round here is, well…it’s dead
“I’m looking for an experienced guy who’s good in bed…  been round the block, but not the clock…
One with plenty of experience and a huge…err…appetite…
for hooking up instead of these inexperienced boys…
They’re all excitable, probably all over too quick…
need someone with poise reserve and a twelve inch errr… Libido?… ego?
Click my pics kiddo and let’s get it on… you Stud!… Well I would!

*******! I’m overwhelmed but let’s not peak too soon…
There’s loads of stuff coming in as Spam that would probably make us all swoon.
So check it out…without fail, “eeeh!”  They’re all there - these ladies of the net - they crop up daily -
Sheila Blige… Tanya Hide… Mandy May,  Bette Sheedus, Lovinia ****…
I’m not sure if these are their real names... But - Phew -
with things like this going on round here we could all get *******!

She says she’s just round the corner, you know like Sompting, Steyning, LA (that must be Littlehampton)… Southwick…Little Haven Halt, Portslade.
We could meet in a lay-by and we’ll get laid… just an innocent little escapade.
It won’t be my fault if you miss this chance…
Just try it - I’ll handcuff you to the bed and lap dance.
Click on my pix, big boy, they all beckon.
Take a closer look at these sonny boy - now what do you reckon?

Well, you’d have to say they do look very alluring in the taster…
so why not just click...
to the next page… see the site… don’t waste-ya time…CLICK!
*******! The screen’s gone blank…
now I won’t even be able to have a __
Knock, Knock, Knock!

"Kevin!!!?"..."Mum?" "Is that you?" "Yes Mum!… Everything’s OK!… I’m just turning out the light… G’night!"

Write... me
let your words describe me
How you want me
Write pages and pages of every detail
So I know what I need to become
Handcuff me and don't let me run
Force me to be the way you want
don't let me run
cause your pages and pages of fake description is better than having none.

I have to stay strong while you leave me
to write my own self
You left
why do you always leave
leave me in my tangled words
leave me to figure it out on my own
leave me to think about not thinking about you
leave me to my own thoughts of
did you leave me or did I run .

so comeback and write me
write me the way you want
Handcuff me and don't let me run

.i get it now, the more i make it a detention hour writing lines: doing dull work, makes sam a bored boy... intra-racial variant of slur qua intimacy, in-group standard... take any "n" word "extra g" word "thingy" among the non-exported examples, non-NBA privileged, say... in Kenya... friends? **** no... feeling intimate? huh? like i said... watching 2 hours of a washing machine cycle, is probably more entertaining, than, seeing, the cages, the - - - - - morse breaks in... so... everyone is being a ******* ******, creating a natural response to a river, that must become a reservoir / fake lake? whatever etiquette equated to politeness comes from this... no wonder we'll be doing it from spite... rather than a genuine sediment of genuine feeling, flight of the heart & and all the fickle thoughts that go with it.

please, please, put me into handcuffs
for ******* in an alleyway,
the english sort of handcuffs,
the ones where they can't handcuff
you from behind,
   because the cuffs are not connected
by a mandible chain,
but a rigid middle,
implying that you have to be handcuffed
with your hands in-front...
which also implies:
   well... if **** turned ugly...
i could just wrap my hands around
a boppy's neck and just turn into
a boa...
     but that other police officer was
nice, turning the police van cell
into a taxi...
   racial slurs...
   intra-racial, or inter-racial?
  big difference...
            inter-racial slurs,
namely an english derivative:
the empire britannia rule the waves
what not?
   crass...
      not too... genius...
no real outlet phonetically...
  the language is too soft as it is...
i met one german at university
who complimented the ****** tongue
with that one general-****-over
word for everything -
conjunction, was the word,
the word is treated as a conjunction:
kurwa...
        i once dated a french psychology
major two years my senior
who i lost my virginity to,
who, let's say, enlightened me...
she was looking for native english speakers,
she told me the most fascinating
fact...
        the fwench used to attach
a trill to the R...
   before they started harking up
an R like phlegm when smoking too much
or down with the flu...
inter-racial slurs are... yawn...
   who gives a **** about walking
on egg-shells...
   i'm watching a ******* football match
or swan lake with 22 *******
                                       pansies?
everyone's suddenly going to be
     as sensitive as a fwench footballer?
****: french / fwench...
  it pretty much sounds the same...
the fwench speak one language,
the french write the same one language...
but the german complimented
a language for the: pristine outlet
of frustration of... tongue licking
a metaphysical punching bag...
but inter-racial slurs are crass,
for the simple fact that...
          they're just too plain in sight...
there is no intimate history of
a people...
   me? personally?
   i'd love to know what the african
royalty called would-be slaves
picked up by western europeans
for export...
   it's not like these colonialists run
these colonized countries freely,
without collusion with the african ruling class...
there was an african ruling class,
there is an african ruling class,
     what's to be exactly changed?
lost in translation:
    former soviet states people /
  but not the satellites?
   kacap...
   from the song husaria by bujak?
ahem...
     muscovite gałgan...
never heard that one before...
   gałgan...
   i once dated a girl from st. petersburg
that summarißed my mutterzunge
        as a crackling of radio static...
just as the english say:
of a people, with, "too many" consonants
in their surnames...
   ask a ****** about hindu surnames...
i mean: intra-racial slurs...
a movement toward real intimacy
of the use of language...
e.g. in england:
    northern monkeys,
southern fairies...
      and the rest? eurotrash...
       i once heard a intra-racial slur
about the english -
                  angol to pedzio...
and then back to cosmopolitan english...
the "n" word... night? nightmare,
nigh?
                oh... the n- word?
if only i could find some malice in
the context of use...
yes, i know the content of the word,
the content of historical usage...
    and now the whole intra-racial
comradery... inclusion...
familiarity...
                a joke of latin...
   to me that's like saying
              Nigeria...
  and then thinking:
         so... it's not the "n" word,
is it? it's the "extra g" word?
better start writing giggle with an optional
   gig(g)le:
   which could become problematic
when it came to a double omicron:
to go, among the goo...
the intra-rascial slur for a german
east of berlin?
          švab...
     funny that... the saxons are
not actually minded...
  the anglo-saxons (intra-racial
mix of celt and saxon)
             as we see them today...
but... when the teutonic order came
to the area around Danzig
     and further east to Königsberg...
further... to Riga...
         a Prussian isn't a German...
              die Preußen ist: Preuße;
  now?
   the Preußen have been reintegrated
into a dialect of Polen...
        kashubian: or at least,
        that's                     sort-of...
ultra-nationalist "sentiments":
   in "exile"...
          i love that, brushing aside
any economic migrant in favor
for the immediate migrant
   of conflict, or political asylum...
you know...
   economics: is a type of war,
                                 in slow-motion...
it's a peaceful war,
   well... ergo it's a "war"...
              and the economic migrants?
disorientated *******...
who can't exactly fully assimilate
to the expectation of the natives...
i.e. speak our language in public,
and our language in private...
  no... no thank you...
         it would be easier to remove
a tattoo with a shark-bite
and a scar than to remove my
                                   mutterzunge...
and here i am... "worried"
about the N in the word trigger...
or the "missing G" in the word: Nigeria...
like... ******* pandering
        to a panda in a Beijing zoo...
now comes the malice...
thought-prison, metaphorical dyslexia
and tattoos of grafitti on
bypass highways...
   like dirt behind my fingernails...
looking for gold nuggets
picking my nose...
   as harold norse once stated
in his memoir (of a ******* angel):
a sign of a Brooklyn intellectual...
   but i just have to point this out...
LGBTQIA...
   nice acronym...
but you're missing two letters...
**** me... if mr and mrs H
  are not included...
LGBTQIA is missing two protected
groups...
     mr P and mr N...
LGBTQIAPN...
    the ******* and
the necrophiliac...
                                    no?
   they'd fit right in...
        no? they wouldn't?
weren't we talking deviance,
             per se?
so...
          those two outer-outliers
    are legit. rainbow deviances...
no? at least mr P can have some sort
of a religious backing...
whether in the desert slap-stick
ninja sketch and satan's postbox...
or at least, back of the queue of a choir,
and some boy...
   but that's the scary bit,
isn't it?
            mr N... now...
                that's... some would claim
it to be art... or what the hell became
of eddie gein in american mainstream
culture...
                  ****... forgot ms B+...
   i do remember seeing internet
in its youth,
                   rotten . com,
            and the earliest edgy ****...
now... not even a black guy can
leave adequate compensation...
   for what... began as a saddle,
reins and stirrups...
          and became:
   a demonic hybrid knock-knock-knocking
on Gomorrah's door...
fastforward...
men on stag outings before
being shackled by the ring...
inflateable sheep
   and granny dolls...
          oh yeah: i'm a real moralist
at this point...
                    what i do find scary
is that whenever i'm confined
to a waiting room, a confined space...
and there's a child with its parent
present... there's an animal...
   there's a very old man with
a middle aged mentally ill daughter...
i'm suddenly likeable...
a curiosity...
        just like today...
  her dad is nearing 75...
      she's unkept... greasy hair...
                  rags, rather than clothes...
and in the corner of my eye...
she just couldn't stop glaring at me...
i'm sweating like i'm the sort of hell
where i'm supposed to **** her...
or go to her pajamas sleep-over party
if the case was: she was sixteen
and i was eight...
                        as i went into
the doctor's appointment
    and recounted my 2 week psychotic
episode of being strapped
to the bed... in a quasi-paralysis...
citing metaphors of p.t.s.d.,
                   not talking a word for
2 weeks, only because i received
a ******* questionnaire from
the dept. of work & pensions...
   'am i a fraud? am i?'
   between 48 hour periods...
i'd chance 2 hours of sleep...
     the usual questions...
suicidal thoughts, hallucinations?
   no... the 1st episode, yeah...
but now? it's just debilitating,
quasi-paralysis...
                  nice doctor... plump...
beauty of a doughnut...
          and doughnuts are beautiful...
esp. if you throw them into a lake,
and they float,
  and then you watch the ducks
                  and the swans swarm it...
if i lied: i should be contending
for an oscar...
          then she measured my blood-pressure...
first instrument failed...
the arm-band was too small...
the air was pumped into the band
around my hand:
    arm-band snapped
  of the blood-pressure measuring tool...
so she had to resort to
the old method of using
the stethoscope and a bigger arm-band...
i guess she knew she was
dealing with a scared / agitated
animal...
   that just so happened to talk
                  some words in human;
a wounded animal,
is hardly scared / agitated...
a wounded animal,
   is whatever implies...
being elevated to a status
that transcends the wound...
the doctors came too late,
i'm fidding with letters
    like jigsaw...
  i'm fiddling with the then
larger jigsaw of words...
   and the whole point of the picture
will only arrive,
post office stamp and all...
akin to a postmortem:
  that part of life...
where...
   eh? how would you classify
man...
          pork, beef, game,
poultry, fish?
    all... none of the stated?
that's almost funny...
   HOW WOULD YOU CLASSIFY
MAN IN THE "CATEGORICAL IMPERATIVE"
of said classes of edible meats?
am i pork?
   no... am i beef? no...
veal? no...
         well, we already know
that some examples of meat
are actually vegetables:
   brain damage, coma...
like:
   do you bite into a tomato...
"thinking" it's a fruit...
or a veg.?
         "logic" supposes
that a tomato is a fruit...
common sense?
     it's a ******* vegetable!
post-racism...
   what sort of meat is man?
eh... bewildering...
   i guess we can only find
an answer, in China...
  should we ever send
a pet dog & its owner to
some obscure, countryside,
small town, famine riddled
(or straight to Kiev) place...
sorry...
******* a black doesn't make
me "less", "racist"...
i might as well imitate
a colonial overlord by the act...
seriously...
english, these days?
watching a ******* washing-machine
is less confusing that
walking on egg-shells in
this tongue...
currently, available...
so let's forget, black, or white...
you beef?
   you crab meat?
       you lamb?
   (slippery *****
of salivating sounds):
what are you?
       it's called:
  SEEING PAST THE COLOUR...
so...
     what's the meat worth?
is chimp meat the same
as human meat?
   no, wait...
that gorilla grew big-*******
eating shrubs?
anomaly of human
dietary requirements...
a horse became so big...
only eating... grass...
      yeah... no anomaly...
and then my brain starts to short-circuit...
past the colour,
infancy of discrimination...
how would to categorise
the "body" of christ
if no bread was available?
beef? pork? veal?
fish?
      i already know what
the ****** would be...
   sure as **** it wouldn't be
*****'s liquor worth of wine...
i went straight to the beast
of the wheat...
    and i called her...
        ms. amber...
                 and... maybe i just didn't
like the wrap-up of rap
because of the lyrics and
my unrelateable tendency
to never **** the bid-bop head...
of the music per se,
but the lyrics?
      sure... the music is great...
but the lyrics?
     i can't relate to them...
i need, something,
mythological and obscure...
a time-wrap not minding a grief
                 of / from yesterday...
mind you: i'll write this,
as i'll drink whatever is left,
and tomorrow...
            is a tomorrow without
this current zenith of the hours...
come beethoven thinking
of tux in the variant of rigid
geometry in the form of music...
           like when sartre plagiarised
joyce at the end of iron in the soul?
- that's the next tier of "racism"...
    as far as i am concerned...
it would be nice to re-evauluate
my position
    on the libra of being
reengaged in a food-chain
hierarchy...
                  cancer is a primitive
pseudo-vitro-forma...
    great... eaten by parasites...
germs... etc.,
  guess what...
   at least a lion is beautiful...
i'd rather be eaten by a lion
than a ******* tapeworm...
so what am i?
              beef?
                     ****...
       first i'd have to put monkey
on the menu...
to tease at the taboo
     of teasing the cannibal
    while performing oral ***.

let me take a break from all of this for awhile
ii’m much too sad to read you a story from my diary
i miss kissing you
i want to kiss you under the sun
i want to kiss you on the sun
i want to handcuff you and kiss you
i want to know how to kiss you
i want to write a book about kissing you
kissing you is a full time job
let me kiss you agian
i am so sorry
i died kissing you
and i don’t regret it
i am losing my mind and i don’t want to find it
i"m reall sorry i will pay for the damages
wow can we stop loving each other so much already
i am so inlove with you right now i could make all the spelliung mistokos in the
world and you would still understand me and i you could close our eyes and still
see how much love we have for each other anad i don’t even mind if it seems like
i’m not payinga ateetion because maybe this is the way things are supposed to
be and i can’t make anything perfect for you because i am not but if you know
then i bet you can we ever
maybe this is right
everything is amazing and it will all be destroyed
this is the most memorable moment i’ve had today
let’s walk through the water with our shoes on
i want to feel the mud between my toes
i’m trying to catch all the mosquitos i can find
people say i’m not saying anything but i am actually saying everything and if you
paid close attention you would notice that i am actually made of different flowers
i’m so cute when i kiss you because you make
me feel reall cute u are so cute and kissing you should be an olympic sport
because i would win a gold medal in kissing you for sure!
how about we talk for a minute

Contemporary
some youth are wary
of the claims of
professions out there..
these seem to wrap
handcuff and chain..
a desperate need
for gifted tutelage
to locate precious
solitude..
knowing then that
each profession's byways
spring from this
place...

I often wondered what thoughts were running through his head
as he stared out the window chained to the floor by his bed
watching the gallows being built that would soon seal his fate.
Was he planning at that very moment his last great escape?
Did he know then that his hanging would never come to be?  
Did he know then that before nightfall once again he'd be free?
What ever his thoughts he was interrupted rudely
by Deputy Bob Ollinger, one of his guards while in custody.
"Word has it you said that if we ever met again you'd **** me on the spot.
Well here I am Kid. Now's your chance. Show me what you've got.
It's a shame that you'll hang in another week or two,
because I'd love to be the one who gets to **** you.
I've got 16 silver dimes in each barrel of my shotgun.
I'd love to try them out on you, but I can't unless you run.
If I free you from those chains will you run for the door?
Oh by the way Kid, your Ma was one sweet ******* *****.
I'll **** you before you hang Kid. That's a sure bet."
"Be careful Bob," said the Kid, "I'm not hung yet."
" Bob thrusted his shotgun hard into Billy's gut.
The Kid looked up at him in pain and said, "Now what?"
"Don't do it Bob," Bell said angrily, "or you'll be the one who'll hang for sure
for killing a man in cold blood who was chained helplessly to the floor.
It's time for the other prisoners to be escorted across the street to be fed.
The Kid's not going anywhere. He's chained to the floor by his bed.
Anyway, I took the prisoners last so now it's your turn.
Go and have yourself a beer and I'll stay here and guard the Kid until you return.
Bob Ollinger placed his shotgun into the gun rack.
Before he left he said to Billy, "I'll see you when I get back."
No one can say for sure if the above dialog ever truly took place.
One thing's for sure. Ollinger tormented Billy at a merciless endless pace.
They were arch enemies who fought against each other during the Lincoln County War.
Ollinger was in the posse that killed John Tunstall, Billy's employer, friend and mentor.
"I have to use the privy Bell," Billy said to the deputy.
Bell kept his rifle trained on Billy as he tossed him the key.
Billy unlocked the chains that kept him bound to the floor.
Still in handcuffs and leg irons, Bell escorted Billy out the door.
Billy entered the outhouse closing the door behind him.
"Let's not take too long in there Kid," Bell said with a humorous grin.
While in the outhouse Billy managed to slip one of his hands out of his handcuff.
"You fall in there Kid," Bell laughed, "You've been in there long enough."
"I'm coming out now Bell," Billy said opening the door.
"Sorry I took so long Bell. I must have ate something bad for sure."
Deputy Bell then escorted Billy back to the jail cell.
Once inside, Billy spun around and smacked hard Deputy James Bell.
Bell lost his balance, dropped his rifle and was momentarily stunned.
"Hands Up Bell!," the Kid yelled. In his hand was a gun.
"Please don't do it Bell," Billy pleaded, but Bell tried to run.
The Kid had no choice but to do what had to be done.
He shot and killed Bell, then went for Ollinger's shotgun.
The Kid never found pleasure in killing, but Ollinger was indeed the exception.
Knowing that Ollinger heard the gunfire, Billy stood by the window
and waited for Ollinger to appear in the street down below.
One senior named Godfrey saw Bell fall dead down the stairs.
The moment probably gave Godfrey a few more grey hairs.
Ollinger ran out into the street as Godfrey screamed, "The Kid's killed Bell!"
Ollinger looked up into both barrels of his own shotgun and whispered,
"Now he's killed me as well."
"Hello Bob!," Billy called out with a song in his heart just prior to blowing Bob Ollinger apart.
He blasted both barrels into Ollinger's chest and face.
Pieces of old Bob lay scattered all over the place.
Billy smashed his shotgun in two, threw it at him but missed.
"You'll never rifle me again," he screamed, "you *******!"
On the balcony he addressed the crowd whose jaws hung agape.
"I don't want to hurt anyone, but I'll **** anybody who tries to prevent my escape."
In the office he found a sledge hammer and smashed the chains of his leg irons free.
He told Godfrey to fetch him a fast horse immediately.
As he walked down the stairs, he came upon Bell's lifeless body
and many eye witnesses admit
that The Kid looked upon him and said most remorsefully,
"I'm sorry I killed you Bell, but couldn't help it."
As Billy mounted the horse the chains of his leg irons startled the beast.
The horse reared up and threw Billy down onto the street.
He was at this point his most vulnerable laying down on the ground.
The crowd could have overtaken him easily, but none made a move or a sound.
Once again Billy mounted the horse and fled with the sound of his leg iron chains ringing.
Many say that as he rode out of Lincoln County that they heard the Kid singing.
Billy had escaped danger so many other times in his past,
but this was his greatest escape ever. It would also be his last.

Hay bud
      roofies
razorblade coochies
Bubble gum
            glue sniff
spare change electric
automatic blue cheese.
Marked for death
                dont forget
to lay off the wet ****
unless you like the handcuff
kickin and screamin.
I want to smoke your ****
and smoke a jay
                Hay bud
              tell me
You got somethin to say?

I could have come Goose stepping through that door on eggshells
With an anchor in the old ways, and the wind of change in my sails.
the crux is; decide what you want foul demon,
I can shield you from the fire or burn bright to show you the way,
but I will never burn out and I will never blow away.
So go snare some other paradox boxer
or lay in the brier patch of tangle choice
you once forced into my sides.

I do not permit you to handcuff your heart to my wrists,
and the baggage? Can stay at indoors.

The persistent demand of my presence pushes me into the love affair with the lies I tell myself that make you bearable.
I make no apologies for my vacant smile,
you bought my body not my soul.
And the clocks and deadlines made me to fix a do not disturb sign on my mind.

With the ultimatums delivered to me ear-trumpeting the feelings that already echo in my diminishing proud walk,
The spine slump didn't take long to take hold.
These are not poses.
This is who I am,
or at least who I used to be,
Or at least who I should have been,
But for the game of Chinese whispers Played with champions of the rumour mill and the ghosts they've created.
Removed from the hiding places are the scars and the tumours, I've been curing them in the sun.

If you came to me looking for a hero stance and a place to live at the foot of a mountain called meekness, then I will let you down.
I was bowled over by the crud slides long ago,
And now like all great insects,
I've wriggled free of the muck,
Striving out from under
more like Frankenstein's Monster
thriving in the thunder.
And making an exit,
whether you like it or not.

I've always been wary--
and celebrated my potential
Betrayal
and
Certain
   death(.)     (oh)
At The Juice Joint.

All wet.  (incorrrr
--ect.)

Applesauce. (non


sense.)

All dolled up. Showed off my
       Gams
And Big Jazz
(eyes).

Wanted to get spifflicated with some
Dolls
and
Jellybeans.

...my fella.

?

Didn't have enough clams.

Any of us.

We

   're the new

Lost

      ...generation.

I thought I'd keep the bank open,
but
interest wasn't given
Cash or Check:
didn't really matter.

Might've been
     the
cat

's

meeeeeow.

And
how.

Ahhhhh...

we all had our glad rags on.
the Daddies hit on all sixes.
      Let's get ZOZZLED on some
jag juice,
dewdropper.

Deeeeeewdropper.  ~errrrrrrrr.....
Though giggle juice is more apt

...for me.

Leave the Mrs. Grundys at home...no fire extinguishers allowed.

How ironic.

                You were the extinguisher.

Bring Your Own Knife

      , we said.

It's a Stabbing Party

     , we said.

I didn't want to handcuff you. Didn't want to exchange manacles.
       ("No, I'm no one's Wife, but OHHHHH, I love my Life.")

I percolate.
I percolate.

I percolate.

I'm not your quiff.
...not your sheba...or a vamp.


Just admire my

           chassis

if you will.

    they

all
    do

The engine'll purr
   for you,

~~if you turn the keys just so

Everything was
    Copacetic.

Copacetic...

For a time.

         (get'hotget'hot!)


Caesar's here.

                                       Hussssshhhhhhhh...

...speak


         ~~eeeeeaaaaassssyyyyy.

And then I realized.


  

                                I'm tired of being Caesar



(      .       )

I now present to you the talk of the town Mr Page
He looks are deceptive; please don't be fooled by his age
He lives alone in a house near to his office in front of a park
He has far too many enemies for he is a loan shark

Before I tell you more let me put a disclaimer
Now days anyone can sue you, even a lamer
So if there is any resemblance with anyone dead or alive
It’s a mere coincidence, have checked all archive

Mr Page as you read this, is now in a court
Facing a trial bravely and holding on to his fort
Lawyer asked him if he would promise not to lie
Mr Page told, truth it shall be, till he would die

Not only was he a loan shark whose guts every one hated
He spoke in rhymes, even when he debated
All he did was to threaten people all the time
He made them sound ridiculous adding punches and rhymes

When the lawyer asked, 'Mr Page can you show us how you rhyme.'
He replied, ' No sir this is neither the place nor the time.'
'Besides I am not carrying any dictionary or copy of rhyme zone'
'Watch what you say Mr Page' said the lawyer, 'I don’t like your tone'.

'Order order', said the judge, 'I don’t want any rhyming in my court.'
'I can see my lawyers have started rhyming too', he added with a snort
'Do you see Mr page what a bad precedence you have set'?
'Why my lord how could I corrupt the court, ' said Mr Page, ' we have just met'

'There you go, rhyming again even when I told not to'
'Sir why are you so against rhyming I have absolutely no clue'
'Mr Page, please stop.'
'Sorry sir I will try to drop.'
'Mr Page I warn you.'
'I am trying, I am trying, and it’s hard! Phew'
'A phew! Did you have to add that'?
'Sir please, it’s all part of a chat'
'Mr Page you are not helping'
'Please my lord, stop yelping'
'What! How dare you! Handcuff him and put him in jail,
No books, No net, No friends and No bail.'

So you see this how Mr Page landed up in prison
And for what, rhyming, which was certainly no treason
Funny laws, funny punishments, this certainly was a funny case
But the people were happy as long as they didn’t see Mr Page's face.

"Hey children!  I am here,  see,
Your old friend, a little dark bee,
On pinions, to and fro, in the sky!"

"whenever you wanna my gift
Scuttle to our house, uplift,
And spoon sugar-globules and sit,

And muse over our labour
In the sun, so hot and so hotter,
And how we build our asset thither,

In the storm so sharp and rough
And when snow falls it gets tough
To **** nectar with handcuff. "

" How immensely our hopes go up
In all events and never drop in a cup!
This is the way to cross the big hiccup!"

"Do you pine for our fruits, so golden
That blooms after repose is shaken?
Follow us, do us, ere your dream is broken"

as soon as she sees it she wants it is entitled to it while she is stealing it she begins elaborate lie everybody knows if she truly wants it she has means everybody knows she is gorgeous movie actress celebrity starlet awesome accessory genius she convinces herself she did not steal it the darling delicate chain with finely crafted handcuff clasp and accompanying key she wears it effortlessly just another imperial trifle hanging around her exquisite throat she has no idea how it got there she may have a drug problem a little dizzy even careless but she is no thief what with her magnificent beauty idyllic body prominent discography why would anyone accuse her she is submerged in deep denial why with so much to lose and absolutely nothing but tiny shimmering embellishment to gain why do tell would anyone point a finger at her she probably wasn’t even ever there at that dicey store she never tried on the astronomically overpriced bling it may have been her dodgy handlers or stylist’s suspect mismanagement and subsequent loan hypothesis she is positively not a thief it’s too insignificant an item to squabble about a mere gold necklace the whole incident ridiculously overblown cruel in fact she hates the miserable paltry piece of jewelry here take it back she insists it never graced her illustrious neck if anything perhaps a cheap ploy by Venice Beach shop to enhance it’s value oh the genuine necklace that she stole

These walls, these four walls they keep him alive.
I sit in them, I look around, I wait to hear his voice, to see him stroll across the room.
Throw the door open mid afternoon and throw himself onto the bed next to me.
Cascading waves of kisses on my body, clutching my waist, running his fingers threw my hair, losing himself with me, neither of us knowing what we're doing, nobody caring, the world was ours, the night was ours.
These walls, these same four walls, they taunt me with weaknesses I now posses.
They flash images of the last time I saw him, screaming his last words at me,
"I think we should stop this."
I turn to the other wall, it continues the nightmare.
"I love you, you know that right?"
I sit up and cover my eyes.
*"I think we should see other people."
"I'm just not sure this is right anymore."
"We're done Lisa, it's over." *

These walls, these dreaded four walls, they keep me prisoner to my thoughts.
They put shackles around my feet, handcuff my arms, and rip out my soul to play with.
They drag it back and fourth, my body playing monkey in the middle, running for survival every time I see his smile
When I feel a warm breath on my neck
A nibble on my ear.
My body, it yearns for life, for passion, for lust.
My body, it fights for its life, drained and confused, numb, yet ambitious.

If love's a crime,
Then we'd be criminals.
To some eyes, we'd be monsters;
And to many, we'd be devils.
But I wouldn't mind my first name being feared and hated,
Because having your last name is what matters to me.

If love's a crime,
Then we'd be criminals.
We'd be playing with fire and get burned;
We'd be playing tag with the detectives
And hide-and-seek with the cops.
But I wouldn't mind running and hiding with you for the rest of my life.

If love's a crime,
Then we'd be criminals.
We'd be locked behind bars
And treated like animals.
But as long as my hand is hand-cuffed to your hand
And we're together in the same prison cell,
I wouldn't mind wearing a handcuff
And staying in prison for eternity.

You scored my heart with your fire and flames
They lapped at the muscle inscribing their names:
Beauty and Intellect, so **** and smart
Warping my mind like contemporary art
You know all the words that make me clench fists
You tease and you promise and handcuff my wrists
I smile when I see you and frown when you leave
And you leave me wanting so much to believe
That I'm not just a fling, just another guy
A portable shoulder for tears when you cry
I've been there before, and it's happening still
If you want me to do that, then I certainly will
But when you whisper so sweetly those things in the night
Sighing my name, saying, "This is so right"
I can't help but think that it means so much more
Than a shoulder to help your eyes even the score

In the middle of folding laundry one afternoon
thinking this might not be a big deal
but then again it's not such a bad way to spend the day and
the back door opened and
my neighbor showed up in full paintball gun attire and
pointed his paintball gun at me and
yelled at me to get on the ground!
i smiled and
put down my child's underwear and
grabbed his Buzz Lightyear sound and
light activated laser gun that he had recently gotten for Christmas and
aimed it at him and
yelled NO! You get on the ground and
then 40 men rushed into my house and
at least 10 of them had rifles and
i was thrown down on the floor,
wood floor,
right cheek made direct impact and
**** that hurt and
i heard a shout of a voice ordering the 10 men with the 10  rifles pointed at my head
not to shoot and
that the shoot to **** order was off,
that it was a toy plastic gun,
he repeated,
it was a plastic children's toy and
in one fell swoop of motion my right shoulder was taken out of its socket and
**** that hurt and
twisted around behind my back  in order to handcuff that hand to my other hand and
stand me up and
walk me out as I watched dozens and
dozens of what i could only presume to be storm troopers from the Star Wars movies wearing white protective gear covering their shoes bodies and
faces entirely
spilling into my house with the great invasion of an ant colony and
several groupings of men in black pants and
black shirts with white letters on the back spelling out different acronyms such as S. W. A.T., and
K.B.I,  KDH&E;  
The storm troopers were actually Bio HAZ MAT men
testing to see if  the air quality in the house was higher than their acceptable limits of
risk of having a chemical explosion occur
while in the house on that afternoon of January
when officers of the  Sheriff’s Office Special Operations Group
executed a search warrant at my house on Main St.in my small town in Kansas and
made entry at the location and
took me into custody while
Certified **** Lab Techs from the Sheriff’s Office
collected 2 Mountain Dew bottles and
some rubber tubing and
rendered the items safe and
Agents of HazMat Inc. were contacted and
responded to collect the hazardous materials for disposal
I sat in the back seat of the cop car and
thought this might be a big deal
this could be a bad way to spend the day

People who always are writing of ***
Are like birds, always writing of feathers;
We know it's their specialty, and they're proud-
But find another subject, for crying out loud!

For half the fun is in chasing the one
That you want to handcuff to you (in love);
But don't leave behind poems, on your nightly passes
Like deflated balloons, lying in grasses..

She Wants

Scarlet cheek
Drenched in heavy breath
Praying to a god of lightning within skin
We sin electric
Along the pulse of thunder
That pounds along the prism of rib cage
As an empty echo waiting to be filled

We reduce the night in hidden instincts
Back down to darkness
Kissed in candle flame
So desperately close to being blown out
That we have already settled into gloom  

Sightless in the slap of touch
The weight of wait
Tension in tendons
Curled toes and closed eyes
Fearlessly peeking
To drown in the bounty of hair
That hangs heavenly
Like a blindfold
Lost in the black sea of pupil
A lack of breath
In lip bitten lungs

We surrender to a pillow case prison
Bed sheet asylum
Deemed insane
We play straight jacket
Handcuff confessions
Shrink our skin
Closer to a clothing called sanity  
Admit to the sweet seductions
Of tounge **** swallow lip
Quiver to bow
Notch arrow
Draw steady down
Hold
Hold
Tremble
Release
To bask in the wisdom
Of hip slips singing
Dipping witness to testify
In the court-ship of submission

A contained chaos
Contested as corruption
But our bodies speak universal
In a language of moans and mantas
Sung out over the churning bass beat
Of heart thumps that resonate
In the taught syllables of beau-ty
Caged between skin and its slap  

We are powerless in the presence of passion
And position our bodies in sculptures of sweat
A natural occurrence
A midnight madness
Where we shed this skin
And let our bones scrape
Till our skeletons knock the nails outa this casket

Resurrected we wake as infidels
And follow our echoes
To the origin of our conversions
A little death
A simple attraction
Tension
And release

I am a temporary trophy,
gold leaf gilded and
shiny, bright, shimmering.

You're 200% proud
because I'm yours.

The small handcuff
trapping, pinching, suffocating,
my left pinky's neighbor
pledges my body to you.

If only you could
chain my brain,
maybe you'd be
content, satisfied, done.

Perhaps that's why
I cry at night and wonder
if I'll ever break free.

Your "love" is
an exceptionally cruel
box to exist inside.

The ocean waves crash against the sharp rocks.
The smell of the ocean is sweet and salty.
The air roars in my ears, harsh.
Looking down I see my future.
I see
I see
I see
Nothing.

I close my eyes and wonder,
When did I become gullible?
When did I become stupid?
Why did I believe so many lies?

I've been blind folded by rainbows and love.
I've been blinded by your mean smiles, thinking they were honest and beautiful.

Adults telling me that I am free.
Only to have an iron handcuff on my wrist and chains around my ankles.
Free?
There is no freedom here.
Not in my town,
Not in my house.

Surrounded by disappointment and lies.

Take a dee breath.

Well no more.
I will not be mute.
naive.
A doormat.

I open my eyes, the blind fold falling and crashing against the waves.

I see my future.
I see my life.
I see.

******* me so I cannot follow
Your hopscotch stumble. Tie my laces
Around the oak by Allbrook Elementary, handcuff
My wrists to the swing set of mauve plastic
And chipped cedar. Tether me in youth.
Leave me at the fudge shop on 73rd

Across from Sunday school and St. Joseph’s
Candy Land windows. Hide me beneath
Tanner Bridge as you shuffle away like some star-struck Cupid
After a ginger-haired mademoiselle in old-fashioned Mary Jane’s
And a mustard petticoat. Forget
Our first clumsy kiss, feet naked in cool creek water,
Toes nibbled by baby rainbow trout.

Bury our history of 18 years
Beside the grave of your granddaddy and
Put on your mask. You've lost me
To ambitions set high above Stanford red.
You don’t see the colors of home anymore.

Love is a sunrise
Love is a rose
Love is the tingle
That starts in the toes

Love is an autumn leaf
That floats on the breeze
Love comes alive
When love flutters free

Love is a car
That is always in drive
Love is a city street
That is lit up at night

Love always has
The softest of hands
And always gives into
Loves high demand

Love is a whisper
That is spoken out loud
Loves when you kiss her
In a tumultuous crowd

Love is the brightness
On a sunny day
Love is a shower
In the middle of May

Love conquers all
When love is set free
Love is a handcuff
That binds you and me

Love is an ocean
You can lose yourself in
And once you've dove in
Don't want to come back again

***** Diddy Dean\
principles clean flirting\
***** on the street tuning\
girls squat ******* off roast\
principal toast jetset mason\
braces racial faces erases fascist\

aCes amoosha\

frisky leniently\
nick unchain wrist\
reel chastity handcuff\
trust the best way to eat\
with your hands and knees\
near the ground on your feet\
head up high top of the more\
under the great blue sky define\

Convenience Cross buddy divine interference\

Culture shock the biggest radial in the room\
Centrally round about ways\
Cave the elephant at the mouses house daintily\

faintly fading narcotic wince\
swine like a good nightmare\
Dare not get locked into close\
without Darkin Diddy in it\
Hit unstuck with good fun gang\
bangers conundrum the dyme drop\

flip the quarter youngin do the tyme Shyne one more\
chance at a lucky snakes dessert dry spell farewell\
take the KAbala Ruby KAaba keen in a seam Weezer\
Diddy peel back pay out after the mailman waned\

inn deserts righteous weasel sheath creature nurture\

feature posted up at the penitentiary motel\
*** as clean as the club they spiked\
to party in the hotel room\

bash and dash with rash baseball bats disintegrating rats\
in baseball caps stash in a ****** astounded Jay Lo\
pulled the Trigger\ Sang\

rapper song rewind hiphop psalm lip i dip you rip we cryp hark of a Hawk warlike\
bullet sound dock store shiruba nest warm shepard impression out of the cold\
     famish at the government mansion retain sharpened noreaga apex angle fang\
dine forward booking round ticket found trinkets of chicken fry Kern El Sanders\
hid ashtray banked future matters in Hakim fortune empowered Peaceful impart\
Eye for Eye
    Evil constrict Haikus conduct leg work contradicting the Porphyrogenita bylaw\
ratify gear Goddesses strike stamping thee passt charging Neo vitasphere Rage\
                   electrician the Machinist\
          hause Morpheus envogue yoke hymns romping a vampire respect pinion droves\
pronunciation moody grove converge throng over durst drac stirs Period crop Verbatim\

She asked me to whisper.
Come close, she said, and kiss my hair,
Draw my waist to you with a firm hand,
Tempt me with your gift of phrase.

Before I give in, and I will, she said,
Before you begin to undo my buttons, my belt, my wiry clasps,
I want you to handcuff me with a twist of thought out loud,
And make me eager to risk all for love.

Enlist the moon, our friend, she said,
Under his pale shine make my silvery skin shiver,
Offer me an outrage, she begged,

Your words, as they always do, will ignite an unstoppable fuse,
And before your breath tingles my ear,
Before your lips brazen the naked curve of my neck
And rise the hairs on it,
Before your tongue is welcomed into my curious mouth,
Initiate me with intimate details,
Dampen me with clues.

What do you imagine when you are alone, she asked,
Forlorn under a wool-worn blanket with only a handful of regrets,
In your dreams, she insisted,  
Have I danced naked for your friends,
Have I opened and aroused myself at the kitchen table for your early amusement,
Have I watched you eat hot buttered raisin toast,
And orgasmed for you, a loud cry, your coffee still warm,

Ask anything she said,
Do you want me to lift my skirt in a public place,
Wink overtly at other men, and brush them with the back of my hand,
Would you like to tie my arms,
Bend me over the table, slap my *** with your moist palm,
Enter me with rough words and a plea to pull my hair,

Do you want a nun, a naughty neighbour,
An innocent with red cheeks and a look of surprise,
Instruct me, tell me how to misbehave,
Whisper all my names, all the ones you’ve given me,
Make me into two, or three or a thousand

Explore each inside way
And teach me what you crave in immense detail.
There is nothing I won’t do for you, she said
Your wishes, we will inhabit them together.
I love you willfully, unconditionally, she said
It is my way.

Dear Husband,

i did not mean to scare you
when you came out the shower naked
and i said
if there were a ****** in the house
i would handcuff him to the radiator
castrate him
take out the blender
have him watch me
turn on the switch
pinch his nose
make him drink himself

All the pretty girls wear Doc Martens
And chew bubble gum.
All the pretty girls bite their bottom lips,
Kiss boys with blood
Rolling down their chins.
All the pretty girls wraps themselves up
In apologies meant for their mothers.
Pretty girls are heard, not seen.
Pretty girls forget their favorite poems
As they snort lines of *******
In their boyfriends bathroom.
Pretty girls handcuff themselves
To headboards of beds
In a desperate attempt to stop
Biting their nails.
Pretty girls complain about wolves
Howling in their heads.
Pretty girls want to be like
Other pretty girls.

It's just so unhealthy.
bad for my grades
bad for my appetite
bad for my slumber

Just handcuff my cortex -
I can't keep pretending
like this isn't all I think about

I can hear the sirens coming
so I start a crossword puzzle

To distract; lest I indict myself more.