Our salvation taking
another high-life (Lip)
The middle-income lip
Our lips leaked
Being possessed the kiss
on empty

Humpty Dumpty sat
on her Lego lips
Singers the Talking Heads
Where are the feds to late
Those stolen lips
State of a wedding trips
Rainbow chalk the state was
on lip nightmare call
Being stalked (Lumber Jack)

The devil filler up poverty
The world being pulled
Push her lip up
                    > >

Arrowsmith bow and arrow
                    >>
  Losing elasticity lips go
UPSTATE gravity

"What an under(state)meant"
"The press (God Bless)
    the golden child
     lips filling in
       the gaps
What!! no comment"

 So sad we need the happy
Irish lad too many
    Sugar Dads
lip recession deadlines to meet
The curveball
Another sip we joined the
Navy but eyeshadow deep-over
the edge gray
The Seal had an unusual tail
Her lips fast food drive smashed
Her Meal

The peace lips blew far away
"Medieval Swords heart lips
            will pay"
Times come and go its excruciating
Lips went too far always mating
Imitating people takes a whole village
Of pain

But the spiritual blessing rain
In Woodstock concerts
What perks to gain
The acid trip music we can
sip each other's lips

    Now if this wasn't passion
What a state got smeared
Like a crime scene
of fashion
Her lips could rise
Like the Millenium

         Max
Playing the jazz sax
Still the income tax

But the state in a crisis
of sales tax
Star a stage minimum wage
All the states we travel her lips
The water stays refreshing where
On her body, he really sees it on
her lips nowhere else

How many states can you
count on your finger
Long lip Ranger

The Victoria Secrets
The Tra la the bra's on the
Five-star Hilton Hotel
hanger

Holding onto her guns
Going right or to the left
Powerful lips he went
off the cliff

Getting Burned and
the State tax
You earned
The Swearing
Her lip talk so caringly
Can we move her lips to
another state more cautiously
How her hips look like
they will inflate

I am not a painting by
your candlelight fate
I felt like a tax right off
Taxi yellow race her lips
on the meter money bluff
I ended up in the state of
*Michigan
Tricks are ****
Like a lip magician

Kentucky home was barrels
of Bourbon
I never said I wanted a drink
my name is Robin
Going to Deleware
what hardware did anyone care
So humble like the bumblebee
She was way too soft as her software

Have gun we travel but have lips we rumble

We need courage this world of states
can be savage
Gold bonds of "Dynasty European"
top dollar vultures mean
funds that's a grand entrance

Now I see how these states
start to unravel
California here I come right
back where
my lips started from

Her upper society lip could use
Champagne and caviar
The star was getting fat a nice trim
Grumpy beard make it a
short tax cut with him
Text and tweets no lip sweets
Rocky Colorado mountain men

French lips played art
Like Van Gogh perfect 10
Scenic route crazed
So many states should
be sued overly sexed suites

In Alaska, she was on a freeze

All the money in the world she got New York Token

All I asked the waitress
for State fair pie
My lips could have
used *Sweet Peach * so
pucker up
Don't be a sucker
Alabama state trooper
in Kansas City

What a spell click of heels

Georgia is always on my mind
Is New York only a state of
Frank Sinatra singing mind
What a big foot in her mouth
Nancy Sinatra dark lips Goth
State boots softly made
for loving that's just
what lips do one of these
Days my lips are going to
gloss all over you
Who's the Boss
So fasten your lip belts
The spiritual state always does the cross

Bumpy ride (Bette Davis) Eyes
Taking a trip to the end of the
boot of Sicily vineyards
Whats mine Jailbirds
She cut her lip when she was
in (Connecticut Movie cut)
On the Mystic Seaport lips were
getting hot ****** fit

Like a state disease fire pit
State of a lip disaster
But the state couldn't
resist her
Ending up in Arizona
Something is swizzling
it's not Kevin Bacon

Make no mistake when you plan
a state trip you better have your
weapon ready
Mafia bullets Bonnie and Clyde
they rob *Banks money Lips

The slow, smooth, slick of ice
Runs down cold iron bars
Snapping cackling dry grass
Crunching under every step
Loosing momentum, shedding its vice
Freezing wet my fingertips
Electric cold, my fingers slip
Down the bar of ice
To meet the maker of its own device

What passion-
What love-
that turns this cold heart
to flesh.

I am yours
You are mine
Forever we are one

enslaved,
entrapped,
together we become

in love

BOTH were jailbirds; no speechmakers at all; speaking best with one foot on a brass rail; a beer glass in the left hand and the right hand employed for gestures.
  
And both were lights snuffed out ... no warning ... no lingering:
  
Who knew the hearts of these boozefighters?

Alone,
in the prison
that is my mind.

The jailbirds’ whispers
raise all the hairs on
my skin.

“Give up”
“You’ll never be good enough”
“Just end your
pathetic
miserable
life”

I cannot take
this torture
anymore.

So, I killed the jailbirds

Before they could **** me

The Convicts and the kingdom
have finally fallen
and the jailbirds will cry
through the iron bars they'll whimper
and concrete towers they built on our graves
are their prisons of solitude
tell the sky she can cry tears of joy
and the rivers to carry them pure
tell the deer that they may roam
without a rifle sighted at their belly
this might not be long or as painful for them
but thank the guardians for giving earth
one last breath of fresh air before
they destroy the world  forever

All cased up as new as can be
Women are not the only one
With their cell phone's
Like men are the only
Wild Thang
How her heart sings
How it brings us
to move us
Or slows us down
Always he is mighty fit She's the case trim

The cell sun yellow chevy-rim
Cell baby racing the American flag
Way over our 100-speed limit
I have 90 days to claim
Another dream that cell

Go-Hollywood don't be a nag
Sunset Boulevard lights hit a snag
What claims do I have security
  heavy tears of his weight

Those chicks to be raised on
Animal farm jumped neigh
Mr. Mcdonald E- I- am E-book
I-O  U your cell phone please sigh

I summarize everything
That rings us like a childbirth
In a crib now men all hub teeth
Or the millionaire mansion their cribs
This isn't a game like ((Women lib))
Smart side sunny side
Benedict Arnold bread and eggs
Jet lag what conflict's

No luck not even Mike and Ike
My expensive cell phone took a hike
I met Chuck Titanic ship- cell-tip gift
of gab  talker those homewreckers
One decent sip Cyberbabe streaming
Her web-  Pirate-eyes stole away
Starbuck's became Lil Deb cell phone
falls in-between ripped car seat

The erogenous heat his fingers were
so caught in your middle ring tunes
Only the lonely the one song
Gave her the ******* just chill
Hot tune Billy Idol White
Paper embossed the wedding chaser
That day he was dreading every voice
sound loser
So mind blowing falling phones
silver tarnished

She was singing it's my party
I will cry if I want to
He picked himself up vanished
You would pry too if this
happened to you the devil
But it has been a long cell ride
With ((Johnny Angel)) how she loves
how he uses her phone destroys her
The Joker of I- ringtones

And she hoped one day he would
feel the same doing voice overs
But her cell phone caught
his fire flame
He was head cocked
Two jailbirds wherever we go
whatever we do we will always be locked
Together or even when we're through
The virus of germs mouth to mouth
Those higher-ups techs flying south
Memories dates and text intertwined in both

The ******* ****** talks like Goth
Addictions and love claims
She was ******* clammy
Those grassy moldy mummies
The negative side effect
So foreign in his pocket
Positive pants far from intellect
It slips out and falls

He is reacting from the
Blonde bombshells
The island some Liberty Bell
No man no God no lover
will be claimed in my
phone rich soil hand
Arrowsmith songs were locked
Dream on claim whats yours
Comic Xmen who claims
The crawling phone creatures
spiderman

She has spider veins features
Total recall but cannot recall
All my important number
where flushed down my
toilet jail cell bowl
And he is so mesmerized with
the Super Bowl
I had nothing left to talk too
Not even my cell phone
I felt alienated like all clones

wardens trying to catch the running thoughts… here and there, snakes become ladders.

jailbirds of a different kind, pink and yellow trunks, see-through vests. they're way too many, they can't be numbered.

parole impossible, behaviour mad… drinking spirits and each other, in equal parts. pink dogs with zebra tails, fetching make-believe bones lost amidst psychedelic sunflowers.

thoughts helter skelter, in the tiny vastness, where only grey matters. bright flashes creep in at the bat of an eye, the hazy images of the outside world.

'em wardens are back, logic loaded in their guns. six rounds, a million too few… but now the dogs found something to chew!

nothing warms the heart as a butter-scrub
of prokofiev on a dull & uneventful life,
i'm still to fathom the mastering mystery,
but lieutenant kijé romance
always makes my ***** into an omelette,
and for all the wrong reasons:
i like it, joked aside, it almost like
watching a monkey play the trumpet
in the odd joke of jazz quarter (
antithesis of the punk power 3)
with the elephant... ****... what would
the elephant do given the ability
of a trunk?!
          tap dance, or attempt a pirouette?
i love the she said he said questions,
she said: madam butterfly, he said
      la traviata...
he cried, she simply stared at two russian
girls making airs,
talking handbags and their usual
schoolyard deal about a chubby nose,
which she did, and we would have
wishes to actually bite...
         i hate those nationalist tourists,
chopin means as much to as a need
for chop-sticks...
                          its 4 30 in the morning
and i still have to drink something...
and do i love her?
well, i love writing about her quirks,
would i love siberia?
would i love anywhere without her?
i'd probably love dr. zhivago in either
spanish, or kazah...
     hands up: i am having
a literary love affair, and i pray to
gott that she's making a competitive
counter to my shallow affair of not
inviting enough pubescent imagination
counter imaginative girls to my camp...
that despised number by men,
you know they're only teen girls
keeping the jailbirds swarming in jitter...
they do grow up...
      and then you throw in a fake
muse into the bargain,
and then you keep hiding the real muse,
more and more,
               her nose becomes your
obsession, foremost because it's russian,
and second-most because she wants
to be rid of it...
     say it how it is, heaven awaits those
who manage to upkeep a truth on earth,
hell is filled with perpetuated liars,
and there's no greater story that the devil
minds than a lie upon lie,
upon the grandest of lies: that
his realm is but a poetic "indifference"...
i will drag my bride into the depth of
behemoth and call it bohemia...
     i will have my words: forgive me
echo by the church bells of the church
of mariacki in cracow...
           she can argue all the wants,
she will be as unwilling at my quest for
that eternity tasted in st. petersburg
once upon a time...
        and all that muzak near the fountainheads
will means at little as the fact that:
prokofiev was actually loved...
and that tchaikovsky was a degenerate
peasant...
    and for ever what my poetry i wrote,
she reaches her 80th b.d.,
       i will not mind the same "respect",
i've visited a brothel...
   came s.t.d. free...
           if there are 72 virgins waiting
the islamic martyrs,
   i'm trying to keep count of the prostitutes
in the harem of crusaders...
i just about scratched off the word malta
from a t-shirt, just so i could get
the hospitalier crux remaining...
       and have a field trip of double-glossing
in mirror the fervent journalistic
        somewhat, or other of "compensation";
then again,
              verbis ultimatus, est verbis omni
dignitas custodia;
don't even ask me how i conjured up
the phrase,
     unless you replicate the same in vino,
and call in vitro veritas / in vivo veritas
to question.

He wants me at first sight.
His glorious, thick-lipped smile,
surrounded by deep and dazzling dimples,
a square, solid jaw and chiseled cheekbones,
shines in the light of his well-worn work truck.
A whirlwind courtship and I am spinning.
I’m a beautiful ballerina in pink toe shoes.
Yet, I’m a clumsy cog, a contrivance,
desperately longing to find my home.

He wants too much of me.
He is insatiable in his desire.
“Sing for me,” he chants.
“You could be a star! I can see it now.”
His dark brow highlights clever, hazel eyes.
His button nose hides his
heritage, but his thick accent
gives him away.

He reeks of macho ideals and an entrepreneurial spirit.
He asks my parents for my hand.e’s doggedly determined.
A stony shiver runs down my barely-bent spine.
I push the far-off fear away
and dig deeper
into the safety of the sofa.

Sweet sadness kisses the girl
with hidden harbored afflictions.
The fair haired, pale skinned girl
with narrow back and large back end.
I’ve a delicate face and bright green eyes
with feet and ears as large as a man’s.
My fiery wit and sultry smile
hide the black cloud within my brain.
I have it all. Unwrap me.
I’m a prize in Nordstrom wrappings,
but also a stunning disappointment
in Prada heels.

A circle of gold slips possessively
on my relegated ring finger
in a land of strangers.
Their dark eyes burrow into me,
yet I wear my smile
like a shield.
Foreign tongues chant in ceremony,
and I am told to drink
the thick, sweet rosy wine. A bitter
spirit that offends my tongue.
A sad smile sits on my decorated face
like the painted palms
lining the path to the white wedding canopy.
My stomach groans. A rabbi chants.
In my mind, I chew on
French manicured fingernails.

Our bed is a crocodile pit with no rest.
Penurious, predatory eyes
cast an eerie glow on the taupe walls.
Green monsters snap at my innocent
toes
until my posture curves toward them
in subservience.
I made my pristine, picture-perfect bed,
so I remain there, despite the accepted
agony.
Every day, a new reason to hate
myself.
Each tireless tirade
with flailing hands and pounding fists leave me
alone.

I stare at the books on the shelf
to keep my composure,
while his Pacman mouth
spews ugly lies and spittle.
A thick spine of leathery brown
tells of long lost lessons of the Torah.

A tuft of black hair
juts out of the venomous
v-neck of his t-shirt.
His calloused hand hits the
soft skin of my face, but I don’t cry.
Nor do I wince. I merely stare
blankly ahead in the dimly lit boudoir
where jade jailbirds roam free
on diamond-patterned carpet.
Where is that lavishly lucky girl?
Who is this broken wife
who’s stolen her life?
I hide, pitifully, behind my extra
bulk
wishing away his crocodile cruelty.

The numbness envelopes me in its
superficially loving arms.
I become the hateful creature
that he wants me to be
and he hates me for this, too.
I hide in the shadows of the room,
but I am still visible.

I become a buttercream butterfly
free of the tirade
in the abruptly transformed bedroom
feeling the faraway freedom
of the acquiescent air on my newborn wings.
The pinched nerve decompresses
and I begin to fly
high above the ravenous room,
the frail, foreign female,
the mixed up, tormented macho male
and the pain held hostage
by the stranger I’ve become.

As a man
Working with your hands is the most rewarding feeling one can know
I enjoyed building fences with the crackheads
Tearing the door frames off of a worn down trailer home in the boonies
Even washing dishes with the Mexicans and reformed jailbirds
I took my pitiful wages with pride because they were earned through these hands
The frats—effeminate men—and women never seemed to understand
Everyone says to do what makes you happy until what makes you happy doesn’t afford you a Bentley
Then all of a sudden
You
       Aren’t
                   Doing
                              ****.
Your ambition is called into question

Crimes and misdemeanours, I’m no boy scout
Every law of the land, I have tried to flout
There’s not a line I haven’t crossed
No rule book I haven’t tossed

Every trial and every tribulation
Enemy number one of the nation
If the evidence is to be believed
There’s no honour among thieves

Standing in the box, swearing on the book
Lawyers trying to get me off the hook
The judge, jury, executioner too
Prosecutors trying to sue

Lock em up and hang em high
Leave them to rot and out to dry
Serving my sentence, doing my time
Paying the price for committing the crime

In my cell, behind bars
Solitary moments, battle scars
Ball and chain, within these walls,
Inmates, jailbirds, guards and brawls

The clinking of the keys as lights go out
Screams of “I’m innocent”, without a shadow of a doubt
The morning breaks and still in my cell
This is living, but a living hell

No remorse, only time will tell
Spending the nights in a Punishment hotel
Seeing out my time, seeking some peace
Longing for day of my release