Aural auspice austerity audible , augur aorist actuator , accidence ambience acoustics .
Counterfactual categorical imperative hubris .
Anarchy iconoclasm, invertible investiture, objectified manifest.
Chicanery dynamism's fealty.  
Ethology's entelechy, zoomorphic zoolatry's social contiguities, élan-vital's apotheosis, oneiromancy's apotropaic.
Chagrin ; fecund cogent apposite germane , inane inert inertia innate , propinquity habitation, proximity parameter perimeter peripherals .
Manumission gambit alluvium aloof , putschist kitsch , pandemically phatic futurity fatidic, annex annul, extraversion embezzling euthanasia extortion.  
Extravagant exorbitance flirtatious flamboyance, flippantly flighty flit-ness.
Laborious beleaguerment, hypercritically meticulous tedium, diabolically maniacal dementia brusque macabre abrupt.
Ominous phenomenon portrayal spontaneous synchronous.

Financially responsible fiscal policy , plenary plenipotentiary fiduciary principle .
Incarnate encephala enunciate , synthetically conjugational conjecture juxtapositional adjunctly .
Noumenal sentience semantics.  Precociously petulant pedantic antics.
Zenithal azimuth entity zeal , transpicuous opacity , in extremis extremity cantankerous cantilever capacity .
Fulcrum fulgurous fulham presumptive.
Spanned collapsible feasible, vicinity victual vigilante villain, execration eventuation evocative vindictiveness vendetta vial.
Atrociously impetuous impudence impromptu innuendo juncture.
Ephemeral metaphor semantics flaunts , ***** affectation exserted protuberance .
Sepulcher stratagem objectified manifest , protractive analysis dimensional delineation .

Impetus intrigue intuitional intrepid , impertinence important , inadvertency inapplicable , initiate innate interpreters intervene intricacy.
Investiture annuity equity indemnity capital appreciation .
Preeminently preemptive retrospectively retroactive , aegis vagary incite.
Quixotically enrapturing mesmerist .
Sycophant swagger asymptotic hyperbolic, estranged ensemble orchestration .
Histophysiology mendacity somatology morphology metamorphosis, blasphemous farcical fugue preterit orchestrations.    
Terrestrial equestrian tellurian terrene, spatiotemporal telemetry tactician.    

****** matrix apex axis crux , actuarial acuity incursive .
Semantic dialectics eclectic synectic’s , wanton wayward warranty evitable.
Catalyst , relative rationality / rational relativity , circumstance contingency .
Incessant barratry omnipresence presage , decadent arrogant , irksome ire Zen.  
Grotto grouch gumption .
Bailiff rake-ness rails , prerogative presumptive judicature.  

Carousel ceaselessly ceremony chaos character charisma , clambering clamorous clangor .  
Catatonic phonics , concoct catenary concatenation , conjugationally conjunctive clairaudience clairvoyance .  
Ambrosia elixir libation inebriation , mirador bartizan panoramic tableau.
Citadel pinnacle pique piquant , altruism endemic intrinsic indigenous innate , existential allegorical .
Prosthesis pseudopodium prognostication , crude lewd , social stigmatism blind , ghastly gruesome grotesque meld .
Bizarre bazaar demonically deviant denizen , grimacing gremlin greaves gauntlets gamut catalyst abstracts .
Hideously horrible heinously horrendous awfully terrible , imagination's immaturity impromptu innuendo juncture , nuance ***** ,   incarnate encephalic enunciate .
Trajectory sordid transposition interlude rubato hi-jinks , nimbus nimiety exorcism.
Aura roan rainbow mare.  

Explicate zoomorphic zoolatry , exogamy of homogeny ontological ontogeny .
Astral projection prophylaxis protocol , telepathy teleportation .
Extraneous extemporaneous , embark embargo extradition , transcendental accession ascension , ecstatically euphoric meld .  
Deontological probity interstitial endemics , agnate aggregate amalgamated anathema android .
Translational interpretation , epistemology audacious pugnacity impunity.
Executant emulation simulation , evocative malfeasance mens rea  , geomancy effete.
Maieutic fallow feral .  apropos ergo ipso facto , carousing marauder syllogism .

Because of the asphyxiation
Of the inebriation caused by another soul,
Perhaps she is the half to complete your whole.
Spending your time in reverie
Woolgathering the next time you’re fortunate enough to see
Her smile.

Overthinking comes naturally
So Plans are fabricated tactfully to meet with her again,
Thoughts of her consuming you like some euphoric sin.
The infatuation only brief
Ends usually with demoralizing grief
So they call it a crush

This is the story of Good-Time Tim
That I sit down to tell you today
No matter the weather
No matter the season
This man just wanted to play

And rain always calls for a raincoat
Boots and a hat for good measure
But Tim didn't need any protection from the storm
In the downpour in fact he took pleasure

His father put the pressure on
From a young age expected perfection
So when he grew up he got the hell out of dodge
Moved far away from parental correction

He was always in a drinking mood
Any time of day or night
If you caught him four drinks or more in
Whew! He was quite a sloppy sight!

This is the story of Good-Time Tim
That I sit down to tell you today
No matter the weather
No matter the season
This man just wanted to play

He drank hard alcohol and beer
Without discrimination
Either one would work just fine
For his goal of inebriation

He was a bit too rough on his body
Which is an overly gross understatement
He neglected his health and mental well-being
In reckless pursuit of entertainment

He wasted his life away getting wasted
Never pausing to consider that he might be missing out
Too self-destructive to attract a wife
So a family he chose to live without

This is the story of Good-Time Tim
That I sit down to tell you today
No matter the weather
No matter the season
This man just wanted to play

There was the time Tim broke his shoulder
Falling out of a tree
Because someone bet he couldn't reach the top
A task that proved to be an impossibility

Tim hardly ever brushed his teeth
So they all fell out by age 45
But considering his lifestyle
He was just lucky to still be alive

Surprisingly he was a religious man
Although not one page of the bible did he read
He had heard Jesus turned water to wine
That was all the preaching he'd ever need

This is the story of Good-Time Tim
That I sit down to tell you today
No matter the weather
No matter the season
This man just wanted to play

As he grew old he began to slow down
But not once did he ever regret
The countless mistakes he had made through the years
I guess the ***** made him forget

His liver held up for a very long time
But eventually started to rot
But for Tim it was too late to get sober
So he still swallowed shot after shot

When the doctor gave him his fatal diagnosis
He laughed and said "I'm ready to go
But make sure I'm buried with a bottle
In case they don't serve liquor way down there below!"

It is similar to when you get so drunk

You eat just to feel yourself eating

Or you ****

Just to feel yourself *******

There is this thin glove covering

The memories of us

And I am ashamed knowing that

You fell asleep in my arms

And I can’t remember what it felt like

I tried to sleep in the shape

Of a hollowed log

So that I could feel like

I might actually be able to protect somebody

That the thin shell of myself might at least keep the rain out

I know we kissed

Through the thin veil of inebriation

And you laughed saying that my beard tickled

I want to remember what you smell like

But through the buzz

My olfactory

Became an old factory

That shut down

In the morning my mouth tasted like copper

From biting my cheek in my half sleep

And you smelled like a perfume shop

From the distance of subtlety

Still beautiful first thing in the morning

And I felt just shy of *****

And mostly ashamed

That I couldn’t remember

What you felt like

I'm tired of trying to rhyme
Expired of the idea,
Dying from the expectation,
Crime of the uninspired poet
And I know it
I can show it
Just rhymes with no meaning
To it
Dying from expectation
Admire the man
With nothing to say
Only elation
Infinite relation
Sensation of the nation
Occasion of inebriation
I'm drunk off of education
No occasion for vacation
No sign and no direction
And dying from expectation
I'm tired of trying to rhyme

Cracking sunflower seeds between rigid teeth
Swigging beers through pursed lips
Inhaling menthol cigarettes with tired lungs and a tight rib cage
          I'm left not knowing the difference between your exhales and sighs
I could say that times like these will brand my memory forever
Salt and shells will never taste the same
          my teeth are left weak from clenching when you're in pain
Alcohol will never completely flow through
          my inebriation is always accompanied by you
Cigarettes still consume me and nearly smother
          as you're asking to *** one, and I'm lighting one off the other
I could tell you when small talks lead to deep moments littered with empty bags and condensation, that I am the happiest I have ever been.
I could tell you these things when there was us.
Picking and choosing which seeds to take from the same pile, fingers interlaced, losing count of drinks and who gave the last smoke to who...
But here we are and us is lost
          our night ends when there are no more smokes to share
Menthol still burns through most of our air
          our drunkeness calls for sleep and warm clothes
We'll both get sick and keep the other close
          our appetites and muddled minds both soothed and still
Eating and conversation so easily a thrill
My mind is numb from how these moments keep recurring
          I know you're hiding sighs inside of exhaling smoke
Us meant that I could soothe that stammered breathing and those bruised ribs, because us meant you curling into me while you slept through it all
Us meant that it didn't matter how much we'd had to drink, because us meant the other would be there to make it all seem okay
Us meant that we could eat together, and smoke together, and sleep together, and love each other, and kiss, and smile, and laugh, and just be.
Us meant a lot of things, but us isn't what we are anymore.
It's just we.
We're still passing off sunflower seeds and just barely touching hands
We're still drinking from the same beer bottle
We're still sharing cigarettes
We're still catching the other smiling in our direction for no reason at all.

Icicles dribble down the tip
of my nose as frost fogs
the humid corridors of my mind.

Tundras yawn before me
and sea-foam green ribbons
helically orbit one another.

Streaks of yellow roll between
the spiraling bows in the sky.
Stars twinkle slowly, just beyond.

An icy howl jars the halcyon
serenity as a harbinger of
hardships and blizzards.

But I am not of this.
I carry a hearth in my chest
and open my arms to embrace.

Ah, and now she steps down
from the gathering clouds;
her gown rippling as it unfurls.

Her aurichalcite eyes echo unsung
songs until I can't bare the separation.
My unstrung heart beats on, begging

for another verse from her slightly parted
-- but how much they open! --
lips lying, parabolic, atop her chin.

She meets my pleas succinctly:
her out-stretched hand offered
in tribute to another kindred soul.

My mind is fixated, not a thought
intrudes on my contemplation
of her exotic inebriation.

Does she know what she's done?
How every movement makes
me stutter, slightly, shuddering

(unavoidably)? How could she
understand this intoxication
which I don't even hope to know?

I suppose that's all man can hope for:
a single day, maybe not more than an hour,
where "love" can even be considered.

feeling burdened—it tends to happen
particularly when meddling impressions run rampant
swarm circles in my hefty head, ignore the next exit ramp, and
let devils' advocates covet the cove i donned my dome once upon never

although i know this may be chalked up to intelligence
and subsequent ignorant claims that swear it's heaven sent
i swear it’s not for me. so tell all the hell-bent docents to leave
and let live my cognizance dim—to do what i can’t. to let it be.

it is what it is
and what it is
is it’s
excessive

i don’t need no informants
playing mentee won’t mend me
i’m torn sufficiently
far as i can see, it seems

don’t mentor she who beseeches
by way of screams and screeches
me and my strings are beat
by ****** and needless needles’
stitches and ventures heedless

i’m piecing my torn fabric
it’s grown so thick
it’s a feat, recognition
when simple addition alters
fact into fabrication

like my elation
in inebriation
guards sorrow
from knocking at my door
knocks my guard down
and has me floored

it hits my inhibition too
and i’m home-free
no guilt signaling
and i pull singles
i switch with tickets
i use to ticket my skin

no appointment
nor disappointment
walking in walk-in clinics
and sketchy shops
flickering the light
it sheds on both
my faces. i can face them
only with this double vision

i watch mark
as his sketches mark me
like stretch marks,
remarkably

in hopes of realizing on the double
the vision i envision into reality
he lets me let him put his hands on me
seemingly steadily
and we feel as our arms stretch

he draws me in
fills me ink
and vibrant me pends
his vibrating steel
and sharp pens
as they liven
my limp existence
reincarnating me instantly  

after sweet sleep
i wake bitter for some reason
feel dull but also sharp-ied
peeping the nonsense i let seep steeply
into my skin last night when i was peaking

now i can reminisce
on the pain of squirming
wallow over it instead, and
not the overflown gore of streams

and catastrophic waterfalls
that break through my largest *****'s walls
they leave what makes me, me,
with breakthroughs of which it can only dream

if only i can fall like the tears asleep
that crash and wave and overshadow my role
in turn leaving without desire
to turn over no stone
nor use any for stepping on
like the ones more close to normal
do coax

i do it all wrong
like they did me
i walk on coal
though from here
it appears
as though i'm an anomaly
only my sole seethes

when on the rocks
my walker, he makes me so strong
he lets me drink him from dusk to dawn  
he says he’d **** for me from here on
i love how foreign i am to him like heron

not the bird though it’s true
us three often see hues blue
we soar blue skies when our hearts fume blue
and they feel too sore like brews do
when they're too soft to heal each bruise or
make room for pain to grow and strength to bloom
so i walk on water as walker

kills me
he’s to die for
imploring in notes low
that i not stop, so i hop on
and once it’s well thought over
he can tell
overthinking’s my problem

i stand alone in the corner,
my core knows
all my o’s and woes
can be all gone
once one o centerfolds corner
and in comes the
coroner

who walks and rear-ends me
and e-r lose hope and leave me
when he cores me from his soul
and i let my breath roam

but he sends me
soaring over the moon
soon as he shows how he listens
and soon we both know
blinding luminescence

my eyes when they glisten
make all my mourning go missing
like the overthinking overkill
i hit when morning rays missile

and he curtails them at curtains
blacker than the blacklist
my man drenched
my nemesis in
deep sleep
with the fishes  

eventually, however
again and against my will, i endeavor
on reading the biography i penned
block my own writing
and let writers block lock me in
i get stuck on the same page
thought no force impedes
the power i home in my palms
nor my thumb's ability to thumb
through the page
yet i somehow flip it
and become my own victim

i did it.
it tells the history of tears
now extinct due to me overbearing
leading to drainage that came as
the very last bead beat me
for forbidding fibs
and calling dibs on *******

still, ringing in my ears
leaks empathy
for crocodile tears
trickling
as they salivate
over their next meal,
me

i swallow my tongue
not realizing fully
i’d just had my last meal
because they consumed me
quietly
with quibbles
and plots of consuming me
openly

ignorance is less so whats lacks
and with no inkling of doubt
worse in terms of that
which the mind keeps
then refuses to release
when need be
hence: me

after i head over
obvious traps
i let flash
atop my head

like clouds overcast
i’m convinced i tripped
on my own heels
like thunder that strikes
one man down twice
out of spite

but in spite
of everything, now that i know,
my eyes and i are drained no more
see, we’ve ever since grown more so
and metamorphosed
beyond words morbid

like those i anticipate
my gravestone
will go on
to hold

this is the reality of being kept cold-cut as meat
that heads *******, idiots, dunces, cons, and so on
those who bring forth obstacles that spurt in growth
inch by inch quicker than their thickening skulls

each time
the sage i pick thinks
my life needs spicing up, either
my screams of agony are mistaken
and my inseams nipped at the bud

or my spirits appear uplifted
and mistaken are my sorrow-filled tears
with joy-plagued wails,
each time
deep-seated sage seeds **** my green

lord knows that while i understand—to some degree
the world can’t come close or know what brews
in the disorganized chaos that is me intrinsically
i don’t fib when i allege that my angle isn’t deceit

nor right, necessarily
just dense as these
basins, wrinkles and dents
my tense cortex insists on heaving  

it would be obtuse of me
to anticipate that anybody
would watch my back
if not mine and me

it's all only a tactic
and i may feign obliviousness
to support this spinelessness
and keep it all in tact

insects fester
i feel each tentacle
extend incessantly
like these rants

they all ax my lumbar
no one's barred from my club
lumberjacks and jack’s slumber
i only lust after the latter

and jack's not all bad
he’s why my caps rested
soon as he hands it to me,
expressing the extent to which

i impress him
granted
my hands-off approach
that manages
to get hard jobs done
better than jills before

he’s a mild nuisance
when one of us isn’t speaking
but he promotes my irritability
with his attempts at weaving
our fingers together

it offends me
and all i long for
is knocking him out
like him and my neck's heart

or my kneecaps’ kneepads
the cap that’s my hat
can at last roll fast,
though no one should ask

i can’t say if i’m ok
jack ko’d my voice box
and i feel highjacked
but i insist, they insist
on the charm of the third

one i get him
like the lights, off,
that’s when i go on to hop off
tip toe off his tip top to get off
on the silence my mind writes off

none of it matters to me
mankind ramps up my love for luxury
the ivory warmth Mr. Browns rain
all over my cold windshield
puts me where i love to be

without them,
antidepressants
would depress and hail on
but their chocolate depressants
elevate me and i hail mary
when they hail hope on me
and i'm newly merry

when it’s all over,
i seek refuge and rush down
and on to the one and only John
where rest can be found
he’s bold as kohl and cold
as his marble floors call for

it's he who keeps my thoughts snowed in
and spares my teeth cracks no dentures can fix
suppresses my urge to purge like Snowden honing in
on how not one man cares less for one careless node in
systems nor the cancerous danger of no protests nor dents

it’s tasteless, the rice that is humanity
so i dine solitarily
in solemn grief
seeing the uselessness we
as crumbs and morsels have come to be

individuals in division
invincible in coalescence
bound to form solid solidarity
likely as the moment

satan and saint agree
to raise their satin
black and white flags,
respectively

to enwrap
two into
one
fabric. silky, smooth, seamless
as is the cocoon
          i once was foolish enough to assume
    would secure the very same wholesome skin
                         it would later go on
to help me consume.

cannibalism.

Crushed in inebriation
Just one glace to trigger my elation
Dancing in the sunlight
Figures dull and bright
Racing pulse, shaking hands
Explosive loss of coordination
Lost to my intoxication
Drinking you in,
Just drinking you in

To the psychonauts exploring
the vistas of imagination.

There is a simple question
I ask of your investigation.

Are you seeking to know
beyond bounds of limitation,

or are you using "psychonaut"
to justify inebriation?

To me it's strange, the way they speak.
The poets of the ivory peaks.
The ivory's gone, but it's some other thing
I can't afford. That luck won't bring.

Their words are nonsense, their tales obscure,
and I endure
strange sentences and structures
to be a part, and perhaps procure
an understanding of the
heavy handed
application of articulation.
The inebriation of contemplation
of words and rhymes.
Perhaps it will come to me in time.

It is the story of my life.
An unavoidable,
like pain, like light.
The door is open, the hands invite
but the hearts are frozen, with hands that write
about love and romance, pain and longing
where is the tale of the brothers belonging
and sisters working the marathon strings
of shifts to pay to raise a child.
The horrors of a society gone wild.

Where is the working class writer of poems
the wordsmith trained on the limited knowing
where is the voice of those rarely heard?
Where are their stories? Where are their words?

Purple Amethyst
Beneath my tongue, keeps me from
Inebriation

Will it ever truly be
Overboard? In my head?
Probably not
But surely in this vessel

I see the ships sails
They are a different color
Then when I was aboard

They've set new course.
Brash pirates of the mortal liquid
Banding themselves with inebriation

Been aboard I have
And in this life
Never again

When the fog clears
And the wreckage settles
I will gather the pieces

I am on my course
And my compass
Points true north

many moulds of beauty
shape this scenic city
into a vintage masterpiece,
a montage of hues
from blonds to blues
stirring sacred senses  
into a frenzy of lust

roving eyes swivel
left to right
thrusting wistful rays
onto phenotypes
curved to perfection

open-toed stilettos
housing tasty pedicures
click on cobblestones
winding like a river
through Gomorrah

street lights glow dim,
shadows grow tall
scaling walls and towers like gray ivy

seeds of love are sown
between shrieks of inebriation;
some blossom into radiant nuptials,
most shrivel like leaves on seasonal trees

bitten by Winter's merciless freeze!

~ P
(11/2009)

Ive been searching
for that taste.
The one that brings
such drunken elation.
I've sampled every *****
in the liquor cabinet,
drained every bottle
I could find.
But nothing has come
close to the taste of you.
Nothing makes my head
spin in that glorious fashion
quite like your mouth
pressed against mine.

I find things ending, bending, breaking
And not the way they're suppose to be
My love that was transcending
Hit the brick wall that was reality

In my inebriation
I found myself separate from reality
My love hospitalization
Came to a point where there no resuscitating

It’s funny, you know you shouldn’t do it.
But then, when you lay there at the end of the day,
With your head spinning,
You know that you blew it.

Tin after tin assisting the spin,
Memories within kept under your skin,
Revolving and turning and wearing you thin,
Those long lost has-beens,
Inducing your sin.

You see, for me, I’m an ideas man, my brain constantly thinking,
Amplified and catalysed by the substance I’m drinking,
But it’s the thinking that’s linking my drinking to ink in,
These words,
While you sit there mistaking my wincing for winking,
...absurd.

Excuses excuses,
While abusing the juices,
Cause mere minor muses,
To produce abstruse bruises,
Your conduct confuses,
Peering, peers peruses,
Refusing acceptance induces,
Further misuses of boozes.

The taste is wasted,
On the embracing flavours,
As without haste you lay your,
Minimum pay wages down,
On the bar for more inebriation,
You try but you fail to
Waiver your behaviour,
But instead pave your way,
To your bottled slave labour.

It didn’t start out this way, it provided fun out of the blue,
To the problem I was blind as the issue grew and grew,
One turns to two,
Three increased to more,
Upon fixed shoulders heads askew,
Same face, different man, I assure.

Down the hatch they say, bottoms up, cheers!
As the liquor disappears it descends and it sears,
Wipe away the tears from the boozey souvenir,
And await that blissful place with no anxiety, no fears.

I understand why some find it bizarre,
How a soul can solely seek only for the jar,
My own experience has brought me in this far,
So now, this time,  it’s time for me to start...

...Raising the bar,
By erasing the bar!!

Now I’ve admitted I have a problem,
I’m committed to drawing a line at the bottom,
Of my past I can’t be acquitted but of my future I can blossom,
No truth dismissive in reality this autumn.

So that’s it for now, I’m wagon bound,
I’m on off this big adventure,
I’ve been a clown, to let it get me down,
Too long in this game I’ve been a contender,
Feet on the ground, I’ll no longer frown,
From the pleasure faked, with measure after measure,
Sorrows no longer drowned, I’ll be around,
And my life, from now, will get better.

Love for me is like cigarettes
I need you, I really do
Sadly, I call off all bets
When I'm  done and through

Inhale you warm and deep
Feed my addiction
Tell you, You're mine to keep
That you and I aren't fiction

Halfway through is where I doubt
How much is left of you
Soon follows screams and shouts
Our love turns blue

I see the filter approaching
And know out time is short
the arguments are worsening
with every cynical retort

The end has bitterly come
The taste I longed for
Is now dull and dumb
I'm a *******, you're a *****

Extinguish you
Like I have many others
Under my conflicted shoe
Due to issues with our mothers

Watch the ember die and wither
Unfortunately it'll be 20 minutes
Before I tell another to come hither
Oblivious to my own limits

Prepackaged and mass produced
Complimenting my every inebriation
For now at least, I deduce
Truly you are deaths creation

Set you ablaze knowing
That our intoxicating romance
Has not a single chance
Of ever positively growing

Love for me is like cigarettes
I need you, I really do
Sadly, I'll call off all bets
When I'm content and through

Handfull of flower petals
Bloodstains and twisted metal
Force-fed inebriation
Bright lights, strange floatation

Wanted more      No more now
Wanted more      No more now

Thoughtless rain falls unending
Thoughtless pain, no pretending
Present tense, future hollow
Here today, lost tomorrow

No more now       No more now
No more now       No more now

Run free and I'll protect you
I swear I won't neglect you
Run now. They may select you
Run now, they may dissect you

Run from this place of horrors
Labyrynthine corridors
Creatures of four and four
Step through each and every door

Know more now   No more now
Know more now   No more now

Far from the place of colors
Far from sisters and brothers

Handfull of flower petals
Bouquet of when we settled
First and last day together
Taken away forever

Know more now...

My friends are like drinks in my hand
The more I have serves my
Inebriation at their jubilation
Though I feel I can barely stand
I enjoy my night filled with all
Sorts of drinks
But in the morning I'll feel
Their clangings in my head

Did you behold my form Milady?
then, well you know
the intensity of these coal black pupils
that flame with inner fire
or look away
and claim victory,
smiling memories
whispered sighs
moving ever onward
exploring
mastering all their ways
my hour approaches
grinning broadly
teeth clinched
to step forth
clothed in shadow

yes, indeed, Milord,

I couldn't advert thy eyes;
from the vestiges of
your smile, such memories
leaves traces of love
forever in my heart;
as each glimpse beckons
a taste from your sweet
mouth, fore, our hour
has arrived, casting
warmth within
bodies entwined;
languishing in light
of morn

by the light of the blue moon;
I made love to you,
amazons naked between earth and sun;
the only way left, the only position never tried
and we went together,
to a place of ancient curses
and secret runes
an island
in the sun

fore, which, I cradled you against
thy breast, whispering liltingly
of your tenderest touch
teasing thy entirety
as each breath upon
me raises every cilium
in ecstatic bliss
sealing our hunger
as lips and
tongues french kiss

and kiss to kiss return
hungry to taste this moment
from thy lips such sweet nectar
awakens in me a deep burning lust
to consume and be consumed, fore,
in some cataclysmic consummation ******
encompassing want

translucent you become
your hands a shimmering touch
your breast as crystal goblets glow
when cradled in each hand
your lips of wine quench my thirst
but kindle my own fire
my skin in fire itself erupts
and melts my heart's desire
a transformation has begun
this path the only key
to hot torrid love that
all the same erupts in fire

igniting in thee flames
of thy lust burning
with excitement as lips
touch upon sweetness
of thy petals blooming
accepting nibbling nips
to sepals quiver in want
of feeling bedewed
mouthing, sipping
its nectar as a bee
hovers ripened blossoms
as thy thirst quenches
in inebriation of honey

makes me wanton to taste
the salty taste of your
******* and the trail of
our love down to your navel,
then your thighs, as my
hand is damp with your essence
sliding gently up your inner thigh,
my beard becomes a
thousand sparks of
power on your petals bud,
your lips slide easily open
to my fingertips,
my tongue swims deep inside ~

within our throes of passion
you've fulfilled thy hunger;
I pant and gasp clinging to our
pleasurable ride, as in thy delirium,
you cuddle me within your embrace
still loving me from neck to waist
at a hungered pace; entwining
again in haste

I kiss your neck, your throat your lips
as my manhood ease within lotus petals
sipping sweet nectar covering him with
dewy freshness and your lips suckle mine;
thine own nectar on thy tongue doth grace
deliciously; pushing shoulders downward
I feed upon you thus, fueling our lust all night

within your gift of pleasure; thy body
shivers from each tentative touch so, soft
light, re-igniting deeply with each
******; manhood feeds thy lotus
thou nectar, fore, in thou wetness
I cryingly moan appetitively in succor;
as thy hands roam, thy lips find
thine deepest desire of want

as thy mushroom flares it's gills;
I'm filled with rushing sensations
all wetness I welcome, slide in
passions gush to meet
stroke for stroke, tongues
fight greedily, ******* taunt
stretched to limits of erectness;
screaming for pain, squeezing
hard between thumb and finger,
between lips and teeth;
lotus awash with rhythms that
cling to thy arms like boughs of oak
in trembling waves we crash against
rocky shores

blushing in sweet-sounding joy...

thus, satiated...

you will only look for which road i have
  passed, with girth of oceans startled
  to hip-curve, bow-legged darling
  hiding behind pretense of rose frailty.

when words ripen, they fall.

from vaudeville of fools to silence
in all its exactness, i take my place
amongst people in stations, machines
adorning rotundas, courtyards to a flourish of twilight-bells, the men with retinas spry behind cloaks of smoke—

        plain, **** drunkenness assaults
the billion-blooded sea, each line fraught
with inebriation: a god is borrowed with
what light fruits from a slow nature, quick
to burst and torturously maimed in stride.

fated to arrive at one morning —
being in total placeness and making merry
once again, the dreary face waiting at
the portico of days collected.

when these words start to wind-hover,
a string of birds will appear clearer,
mounting umbilicus of lines.
as in hounds shear the metastasizing dark,
going back to chagrined kens,
i make truth out of the tragedy:
trace the source of this stream and find
my trampled body, floating with
   the sandalwood. when the still, clenched hand clock-punches,
   make real the insignia of my arrival:

words start with limbs to cross
  this scalped Earth which moves suddenly naked, leaning in, gropes you
in stillness, resuscitating the moon from
the working of insolvencies we rear
in derelicts of days.

drags it closely to ends — left trundling
in woe's wearisome vessel. and if in
this newly thatched home it screams,

let this voice deftly shred
so i may once more lie straight to your
half-illuminated faces, a call i
only hear.

I read a disturbing truth someone questioned on the internet,
“the world didn’t end in 2012, but since then have you truly felt alive?”
I don’t wish to presume, but I would be more than willing to bet
that you feel the same, that you’ve fully lost your drive.
Marking calendars like clockwork, each box an imposing X,
but you’ve lost your absolute and essential favourite red pen.
We live as NPC’s but I’d like to believe we’re far more complex,
though we make the same mistake over and over again.

No sun burnt out, no moon fell,
but I swear the galaxy has changed,
we’re dazed and living under a spell,
our lifestyle’s completely deranged.
There was deviation from the reservation
that fate held out for us.
Abandoned salvation for sedation
the golden pastures have turned to dust.
But there’s got to be a link between worlds.

I know there’s growth in destruction
instead I loathe interruption.
Can silence be considered a confrontation?
I know there’s redemption in healing,
but I take each hit without showing feeling.
Can violence be considered mediation?
Decipher every word’s meaning
while performing spring cleaning
we’re all the same; we just want a good purge.
Ignoring every clear right sign
but complain about the fuzzy line
the one that’s crossed when you can’t resist the urge.

No sun burnt out, no stars died,
but the dimensions sure are blurring.
Auto pilot’s on and gravity’s been defied,
and no one sees this all occurring.
There was deviation from the reservation,
that fate held out for us.
I trade motivation for inebriation,
the golden pastures have turned to rust.
But there’s got to be a link between worlds.

Time isn’t so strong when you can break the clock
you know it’s possible to push back the hands.
For fate is chosen but destiny you can mock
from the deep seas to the hottest sands.
The past is already written
the ink is already dry.
The fire’s already been lit and
the flames are reaching towards the sky.
I’ve explored every emotional cave
and I’ve trekked through every lonely field.
When you’re scared it’s the only time you can be brave,
so grab your sword and don’t forget your shield.

No sun burnt out, no seas ran dry,
but the world suddenly stopped turning.
the world’s a game and life’s a lie,
but we must keep internal fires burning.
There was deviation from the reservation
that fate held out for us,
I replace meditation with self deprecation
the golden pastures I no longer trust.
But there’s got to be a link between worlds.

but i might be confusing love for

that brief moment when i wake up before everyone and feel the hum of sleep and the afternoon light hits his cheekbones in such a poetic way that it’s almost silly seeing as how

we crashed on a crusty futon after a night of inebriation, smoke breaks and psychedelic rock.

the thing is:

you put your warm mouth to my ear, thoughtlessly, and said

T’amo.

i’m taking that and pinning in to my

shirt.

one man’s trash might just be a woman’s

treasure.

Lilies  bloom in the shade of broken teeth and crooked
smiles
A life spent between blaring plastic
headphones
Smiles like cheap neon and artificial camera
flash
Capturing a moment, destroyed like hummingbird
heartbeats
Synchronized silence worldwide, a breath
exhaled
Musical stones rushing back to oceans
beckoning
Rushing in sand and salt water, forgotten
noise
Her smile broke me
My smile gave the lie away
From the heartburn and ***** came
solitude
Half finished bottles of ***** on the
floor
And smiles exclusive to
inebriation
I dreamed of your touch
But coldness prevailed
I sacrifice my heart to sunflowers
Dead words whispered
Dead words hanging from stalks in the field
Crooked backs and dull tools
Stories of my fathers, and those before
Dead men with echos like
thunder
Crushed aluminum cans on the floor
My secret sickness, a breath of cancer
exhaled
Ashes like snowflakes on my worn
boots
Words like blue tears crumpled on stiff
paper
And we die for our words
And our words will die
with us