Vanilla frozen cream
over slices of pink-orange inner flesh,
steam as something cold
is lain upon something hot.

The fluffy-whiteness spreads
the soft-firm peachiness apart, leaks
into the space between, gathers
in a small puddle of thick milkiness,
almost pearlescent.

Rolling-back eyes,
scent of precious fruit,
burning cold bowl
in hand, contents slide down the throat
all at once, swallow.

well hey, they decided you had to be puritan shunning your eyes at the word ****... but said you were to be crucified twice-over to see ******* and **** and other morbid clown balloon images that deviated from censoring ****-all / nothing and ensuring you were comfortable with dyslexia of pulverising images that could only be reduced to a close-resemblance of words (onomatopoeias) - ol' McDonald 'ad a farm...**

god save the queen,
god save our...
come on! come on! come on! come on!
do you wanna be in
             my gang my gang my gang?!
do you wanna be in
             my gang my gang my gang (my *******)?!
(garry gloater, uhu uh hum aha um - elvis proved
the english stiff upper lip could be cured - sore
the lippy wrinkle of disapproval insinuated, soar
like an angler's catch of the fisherman's hook!
but the stiff pelvis couldn't - exporting
a redcoat to america is like importing a ku klux hood
to england, ha ha.)
leisurely in Majorca binge drinking
in Bristol is a N.H.S. concern,
Madonna faked the *****,
the ***** faked the Madonna
because of the seasonal olive skinned trysts...
drunks' trolley banks and cabbage heads
of mashing up hairstyles at a metal rock gig...
it was once 80s Nevada deep freeze,
now it's airy new york Warhol cool...
shinobi said: dragon's ***** gave birth to
fast blinking ninjas...
all the world's a stage... but no man
should turn into the world just because
he was given a stage... tabloid literature
faked shakespeare plagiarism of death too frequently....
Anthem Britannia - sail the seas of ****** milkiness
gluten free passive vitamin C, D & A recipients
in the multi-pill... of all the former empires
i got the ****-hole... learn the basics...
the perverts are out there, ready to scream the words:
***** REEL! and get their nuts jotted down
in a blender of teenage emotion...
we're talking the new age futurism off futurism,
since the date prescribed by Fukuyama,
beginning / ending when people stopped the 100
cyclone and entered the lasting 2nd half of the 20th century
as a bleach for the 1st part of the 20th century,
meaning they had to grapple with writing history
and stop looking at art as "post-modern",
well basically modern post-mortem
of the millions dead... the art they make these
days is just gagging for a shooting-spree.

Eyes closed. Chest pounding.
First cautiously, one step, two steps.
Courage has found me.
Recklessly charging into the night.
The rush, plunging into
Dreams and nightmares alike.

I'm lost in the cosmos.
My memory bleeding
Into stain glass and into
The freckles dancing on my shoulders.
I am fearless.
I am invincible.

Does it always feel this way,
This complete and mesmerizing
trance. Your skin against mine,
Racing through the every corner
Of doubt I've ever had.
But a dream is just a dream.

Ink blot tests,
I see you in the rings on trees
Cut down after years of shade.
You glimmer in Orion's Belt, and through the
Infinite rings of Saturn.
I long to kiss you.

Grounded. Headed in the clouds.
The supernova, mind flooded,
Bright lights and love.
I see the stars shimmer in
The twinkle when you gaze into me.
Peering into my heart,  deeper.
Despite these rockets, we are Earthbound.

Fresh soil brings me back into sync
With the horizon.
I throw skipping stone across the river
Until the color of your eyes is grey
And mute.
I am living, all the while trying to forget you,
And I wonder how this came to be.

Eyes open. The universe, beautiful
Creation, created the space between us.
Reaching out to lost causes
The void opens up,  swallows us.
The light from that first night
Consumed by black holes,
Of failed expectations.

Mercury and Venus at my back,
I chew at my fingernails making
Them into crescent moons.
I am trying to love, moving forward,
Pushing open the white picket gate,
And stepping out of the front yard.

I submit to gravity.
World's slide past me.
Leaps of faith bound by
Arbitrary promises. Illusions.
Perhaps the light of a time
Long before, empty truths presented
My dilemma, I could as I had before.
One step. Two steps.
Dive into the marvel. Drifting endlessly
Into you.

As I stare into into the milkiness
Of sunrise I am astonished at the fast
The only words I can fathom are,
"Do you love me?"

In the park, soft-study of sands and swings,
Where the birds while away the unabridged air
Like rains on green, copper roofs ~ their wings.
So I have touched my rainy fingers on the fountain’s surface,
And tum-tumed at the dumpy belly of a dog,
So I have felt the vendor’s balloons like cantaloupes for freshness,
So I have a pocket-change of smiles for all.
At the fountain’s edge,
Like green-molded quaystones feather-singed
By the touchstrokes of the arcing wings of the sea,
Or like a saucer of warm milk
For the alley-cats to drink the milkiness of sun
And then with their paws,
Plink at overturning the day into porcelain shadows.

There she stood
In darkness
By the window of an upstairs room
Her silk robe slid from her shoulders
Shadowed her lines
And fell silently to the floor

There she stood
Bare
The faint moonlight illuminating
The milkiness of her protruding *******
Her slender curves and beating chest

A thousand and one things
Happen
In the playground of our lives

We are given what we are given
And then
We make what we can
With what
We have received

We embroider strands
Of proffered and discarded materials
To create
Uniquely fabricated realities
For ourselves

Through our education
We kid ourselves
That standards are the standard
And grades are the grade

But should we not ask
What do children need to know from us?
What do they need to learn?
To become happy?

And what was it that we learned?
What was it?

All this information
All this expectation
Are we yet beating ourselves down with it
Battering our children?

As one climbs higher
The air thins
And so I yearn to feel the closeness
Of your body

I desire to be with you
In my illness
As winter grinds on

Spring!
I call to you
Embrace me
In the milkiness of your *****!

Refresh me
As I present
My naked self

Though we are weak
We struggle
Onwards
Together

Perhaps towards uncertain victory
Imperfect as we are

we spent the
weekend
taser-gunning
the cows

Billy rigged up
a bathtub
in the pasture
where we heated
the water to a boil
and gently
placed them in

their soft smiles
thanked us
and a foamy grey film
bled out as they
sunk below
the surface

Billy retched
and I told him
to be calm
it’s just
the final essence of
their kindness rising
I said
their inner milkiness

then a ruby-throat
came to draw in
the nectar from a
cluster of bee balm flowers
immortalized in mid-air
and still more cows
wandered forward

in their smoky flatulence
we found
alphas and deltas
that we arranged
into formulas
on a tarnished
silver plate

and as the campfire embers
glowed deep red and
our sleeping sacks
beckoned to us
we drank down the
final gulps of
hot miner’s tea

and Billy pronounced it
“more of the stuff
that made Rome great”

It is a mass of marvelous memories,
many moments blurred together
in a rainbow of tastes and
family connections,
untouchable
by time’s unfair removal,
but still there for my perusal.

It is a bitter pink, orange
with a sweet sugary
delicious coating
on my half of
the breakfast I loved,
a great grapefruit
smothered in brown sugar.

It a brown liquid
I shouldn’t have been
even drinking
with white swirls
of milkiness
lightening
the shade of it.

It is an early morning
spent riding with
my aunt and grandma
as they delivered
newspapers.

It is walking two dogs
long since departed,

memories sadly distorted
by a tinge of nostalgia
and the melancholia
of lost family members.