The likes of you I can't describe,
Yet I love to eat between your thighs.
The melody you spake to me
Unfolds my greatest sovereignty.
I crave to quaff all of your spit,
And swallow every drop of it.
Don't cheat me of your tasty flesh,
Those bare and supple ****** *******,
Your eyes that follow my firm gaze,
While we kiss and lick and misbehave.
I need to feel each piece of skin,
Smashing girl and boy parts over and over again.
It's such a treat to eat you whole;
I'm obsessed with eating 19-year-olds.

we write because we are told
we write because we are cold

so why write poetry?

is it to obey
is it to simply misbehave
is it due today
is it more than what we say

if not
why do you write poetry?

because I can
&
because I am

we are made to feel
we are made to speak
some people are quiet
and others are bleak

words are expressive and alive
but some words are best left to die

In this land of the free,
Money and greed,
Swallow the ******* world of pain and deceit.
Rich in riches
Us slaves in the ditches,
Proud workers in stitches,
All outspoken, burned as witches.
The dumb stay dumb
The meds make us numb,
No reason to live,
More lies that they give
Stuff them down our throat as we choke
On the smoke
Of this world in ashes
Failed as the common masses.
Need a revolutionary rise
as we realise
This land of ours is the land of the slaves
To take to our graves
So cause some raves
March
Misbehave.

During her blood moon was the best time to make her moan,
make her legs shake and weak,
Feel her scratch down my arms and peel up my skin
Only 3 days it would last
but during those periods...
she would release multiple times
With the red moons spawn
a bear in the woods would evolve,
hunting her flood through a blessed disaster
finding what I was after,
in a late night spatter
Her finger tips hiding
the stake in my pants,
she'll soon be riding
In these moments I feel a crave,
a longing to misbehave,
Within blankets and sheets we inhabit this cave
Our leveled off breathing
will not reveal harm
Take shelter in the warm of more than apparent
and reside until morning in the arms of the inherent

Listen to us, immersed in life:
Feel sensation (wipe away strife),
Know experience (and never desensitize).

Let the breeze amble by
touching clothes, flowing robes drifting over
soft air so quiet. Hold it there.

In the name of the wind
that brushes against our face,
Close contact on delicate skin, so
boldly tempting fate;
The words remained traced in the air:

-ALL ALPHA ALBEITT ACE.

Emulsified by dark days,
I used the memories to stay awake.
Keep it clean they say,
But my soul had been stained;
The senses had strayed too far away.

Bent to the will of the chems
they had been rendered slaves;
Surreality does slyly misbehave.

Draw simple oxygen into your being
as an empyreal tidal wave rises again;
The air around me speaks psychedelic zen.

(On her canvas, brushes will cross;
he, the art of loving the loss)

Notice, nod, smile
make strange worth her while.

Stand, wink, wave
break poise,
misbehave.

Give first free of charge
and by last; indemnify.
Attain room without barge
-wend, strain, stratify.

Use me and abuse me
I love it when I’m all you see
Please be my Queen
I’ll gladly bow on my knees
Treat me like a slave
Punish me when i misbehave
Tell me that I’m nothing
While calling me at 4 am because you “want me”
Let me follow you around
I promise not to make too much sound
I want your punishment and praise
I want to wait on you hand and foot when you just want to laze.
I want you to tie me up
And tell me that I’m just your little pup
And that puppies who don’t follow the rules
And just like jesters and fools.
And need to be punished by their Queen
Until their voice is raw with screams.

Mom, your hugs are magical
They are wondering me always,
Make me cool and happy
Your hugs are the cure when I'm upset
They melt my body, mind, and soul.
I need more hugs from you every day,
To grow into a secure individual
And bubbling with confidence.

Mom, your hugs care for me
I would be a piece of your heart
You will be always here for me
Your hugs make my life smart.
You promptly correct me if I misbehave
Ma, your love is unconditional to me.

Mom, have you hugged me today?
Have you forgotten my need?
Mom, I miss you, I need your hugs
Every night, every morning, all the day...

Lisbeth stands watching
The artist as he prepares
To sketch. Her elder sisters
Stand in shadows whispering.
Her younger sister plays
With her doll on the floor.
Their father said to do as
The artist instructed and
Don’t misbehave or be rude.
The artist stares hard his
Dark eyes searching their
Every move and expression
And body gesture. The elder
Girls mutter in shadows
Their hands over their mouths
Their blue eyes like shallow
Pools. Ready? The artist
Asks putting charcoal to
Paper his fingers blackening.
Lisbeth says just as we are?
The artist nods. His grim
Features express do not disturb.
The youngest sister plays
Ignoring the artist her eyes set
On the game at hand. The girls
In shadow turn their profiles
Set to mystery their hands on
Their abdomens like guardians
Of virtue. Lisbeth wonders as
She watches the artist’s stiff
Moustache and beard the slow
Movement of his mouth as he
Mouths words and stares hard.
The last artist employed some
Year before younger and less
Brutal in expression and manner
Had drawn them each in private
Rooms and set them down on couch
Or bed and kept their images inside
His head. He was dismissed and the
Drawings destroyed and nothing said.
Lisbeth had thought it just a game
Something done as lover might in
Private corners or lonely spots on
Quiet nights. The artist sketches.
His blackened fingers move and
Made their mark. Their images
Captured. The scene set. One sister
In the shadows yawns the other
Stares in still contempt. Lisbeth
Poses as young girls do. Nothing
To show of interest and nothing
Hid no secret self no other you.
That’s it the artist says we’ll begin
The painting another day maybe
Next week if all is well. The girls
In shadow look away and resume
Their secret games. Lisbeth studies
The artist’s blackened fingers as
He rolls the charcoal sketch and
Puts away. He gazes at her standing
By herself a glimpse of smile and
Glimmer in her eyes like small fires.
He closes the tired lids of eyes
And smoulders down his old desires.

Justin Bieber is no big deal
I’m not even sure he is real.
He started out as pretty decent
Have you seen anything recent?
He looks like a kid who is trying
To join the gang but is only crying;
Sitting on the sidelines sniffling.
Dressed up in gang stuff and everything.

Poor baby Justin, as rich as a king
Isn’t quite satisfied owning everything
Has to cover up his body with tattoos
Like all the real-life gang members do.
Wears a hat too big for him all sideways
Plays in the sandbox where big kids play.
Wants to look all gangster and rough
But looking like a lesbian makes it tough.

Poor Baby Biebs with his millions of fans
Three pairs of underwear and baggy pants
Grinning like he’s bashful, we know he’s not.
Far too often he has proved himself a snot.
Some of us were worried when he was a kid.
We worried nobody was careful of what he did.
So Baby Justin Bieber is a bit of a wreck
Sort of like the words crawling up his neck.

Justin Bieber makes the young girls scream.
They don’t care he’s not the angel he seems.
If only he would misbehave with them, they think.
They’d let him act the fool, smoke and stink.
Because, after all, when you’re a teen-aged star
It doesn’t really matter just how fake you are.
The thing is be to be fashionable the youthful way
And let them get a glimpse of you every day.

The oceanic wind did not rescind but instead it found its form.
Gathering in strength and gaining much in length at the centre of the storm.
Building attitude it would not exclude from the frigate sailing true.
But with its destination now a defication the seas discarded with the crew.

Land-**, it came, did this hurricane bringing with it such a wave.
Like none had ever seen was this water screen that was bound to misbehave.
Throwing all aside like an unruly bride who was aiming to get her way.
And what lay ahead was a heap of dead as the big one came to play.

On its way inward it had done no good to the vessells on the sea.
Throwing craft around and causing men to drown it wasn't going to let them be.
Breaching many shores like unruly ****** the waves would spread there grisly pox.
From the nearest beach to the out of reach destination of inland docks.

Catastrophe - spelt with a capital C was the headlines in the news.
Every seaside place had a weary face that was filmed by camera crews.
People died that day many swept away as the nearest towns did flood.
Even tracks were failing with the trains derailing while water washed away the blood.  

Many homes were wrecked as they did disconect and the oceans did divorce.
With those like you and me as they watched TV as the waters swam there course.
Many got up high and watched their fellows die on this day that would not be.
Forgotten very soon as before high noon we were dismantled by the sea.

It's all over now and we will somehow continue with our lives.
We'll bury our dead and we'll count the heads of our lost husbands and wives.
They'll be laid to rest and we'll then invest in the massive clear away.
But when that wind gets up it'll hit us in the gut but all we can do is pray.

The world cannot be tamed and does not feel ashamed when it strikes from out of the blue.
However we prepare nature doesn't care and will do what it must do.
We think we're in control but we're just on parole from what nature has to throw.
And we'll hope that day never comes our way but we can never really know.

It seemed inviting so I sat on the stool.
It made me uncomfortable the way he started to drool.
This place was a hole in the wall, a run-down that had started to fade,
a place where lovers and drunk heroes were made.

So I called to the bar keep and ordered a drink.
I'd take anything if it helps me not to think.
I downed my first and took a sigh.
I'd rather be anywhere else I'm not gunna lie.

The guy behind the bar clearly wanted to know,
and the anger inside was starting to grow.
"How about another?" said the bar keep.
"I know something that'll help you sleep."

I said "sure," and he passed me a shot.
I felt the bullet slide down. It helped a lot.
I decided that maybe this guy could understand.
I could feel my brain fall through the cracks like sand.

"Pass me another," I said with a frown.
"give me the hard stuff, don't let me down."
He came over and set it on the bar,
I felt the poison settle at the bottom of my stomach like tar.

He simply asked "How are you feeling?"
I could feel my eyes peeling.
"Not to good. I feel like ****,"
"my family hats me." I could see a cigarette being lit.

"Why'd they hate a nice guy like you?" he said with a smirk.
"maybe its the way I let my feelings lurk,"
"they lurk in the shadows full of anger and sadness."
"Maybe its to hide away all of my madness."

"Thats to bad." said the guy mixing my drink.
he set another toxin down before i could think.
"I didn't order this drink," I said a little confused.
"or did I?" I asked. I'm starting to feel a bit defused.

"Yes you did sir," he said with a smile.
"should i put it on your tab? will you be staying a while?"
"you can tell me more about your troubles."
"but if i keep drinking i'll start seeing doubles."

"don't worry about it, Ill get you a ride,"
"thank you," I said. "you'd be saving my hide."
"Then I'll have one or two more and call it quits,"
"I wont have too much, I want to keep my wits."

"so tell me more about the kids and wife,"
"is that truly what you wanted from life?"
"If they hate you so much, why do you put up with them?"
"Where does their hatred for you stem?"

"Is it what I wanted from life? Maybe not."
"Before our son, we just fought."
"now we do it when he's put and away,"
I don't want to keep fighting until I'm old and grey."

"Where did our wife start to misbehave?" I was unaware he refilled my glass.
I saw a guy outside smoking his grass.
I took the shot and thought about what he said.
"what do you mean 'misbehave'?" I felt as heavy as led.

"Well you know what I mean," said the guy.
"when she starts to cheat and lie."
"she doesn't think that you'll find out,"
"and when you accuse her she'll starts to pout."

"my wife doesn't cheat," I said confidently.
"she wouldn't dare do that to me."
"and why is that?" asked the bartender.
"what would you do if she didn't tell you the truth and surrender?"

"Well i'd-" I paused and pondered what I was about to say.
I wouldn't ever do that, even if our relationship has started to fray.
"I know what you're thinking and man is the bold,"
"but you do have your pride to uphold."

"Some relationship aren't that sweet,"
"some women are just meat,"
"they sleep around here and there,"
"then cry about how life isn't fair."

He set a drink and i took it right away.
I couldn't believe what I was about to say.
"If my wife cheated i'd teach her real good,"
"I'd hit her so much she'd be trying o hide her face with a hood."

The bartender just stared at my for a second and handed me a shot.
I was thinking about what the bar-keep had brought.
I've had six hard drinks and this would make seven.
I could feel myself getting farther and farther away from heaven.

I can't believe what I had just confessed.
I said I would hit my wife. With too much ***** I'm not at my best.
I'm not thinking about what I'm saying.
In my head the thing I just said keeps replaying.

The bartender spoke for the first time in what felt like forever.
"Some women need to be taught a lesson. what ever."
"sometimes it needs to be done,"
"they need to learn that there isn't anywhere to run."

" yeah you're right." I said without thinking.
Im blurting out words without even blinking.
I need to slow down on the drinks.
The bartender then replied, "Maybe you should go to your wife and work out the kinks."

"If she doesn't listen to you then do what you said and teach her a lesson,"
"you need to do it now before she grows in aggression."
"Maybe you should teach your son a lesson too,"
"beat him as well and show him why his anger grew."

"You should go now before your wife cheats again,"
"and before your son steals, so until next time then."
He gave me one last shot and said it was all on him.
I looked around and saw nobody in the bar. It looked rather grim.

I got up and headed for the door.
I stumbled a little. I felt pretty sore.
I saw a girl walk in and sit on my chair.
She started talking to the bartender about how her husband beats her and that life isn't fair.

Like the bar-keep said, he had gotten me a ride.
I wasn't driving so being drunk I didn't have to hide.
He clearly knew that I had been drinking from the way I was slurring.
I was having some trouble seeing. my vision was blurring.

The driver took me home in a rush.
My insides started to feel like mush.
I paid the guy and walked up to the house front.
I unlocked to main door with a grunt.

The door swung open and I stumbled inside.
I slammed the door closed with the strength that I applied.
I will never allow any sort of defiance.
There was a woman's scream and then only silence.

My skin is p a  l e
My body c o ld
     And in my chest lies a broken heart of fools gold
My re alit  y   I  on ce knew is ha z  y    a nd n on exist en  t
It's grown old
     And I'm becoming tired of being bold
And being told right from wrong
      I'm sinking softly down when I don't know how to swim
  Every inch that I further lose from possibility to stay afloat is lessening my want or need for a life boat
    Every breath I attempt to take fills my lungs with ugly pseudonyms and sends me down deeper into my lonesome underpopulated town inhabited only by fragments of once strong relationships that i held so close to me that I c ould n't  b reat h e, the relationships that kept my entire being from sinking in the first place.
   I'm drowning and I can't see what's even in front of me
       I'm a ship bound by anchor to the wrong bad habits of shedding my   blood willingly to bloodthirsty ravenous sharks in the sea of my minds eye
       This was once a safe harbor for the ones I kept close
  The ones that knew what mattered to me and the ones I cherished most
      Now its a sea full of  gh o sts
Of the people I trusted them the most
    I trusted them to not turn on me or use me like a host
And now I'm the one  dro w ning
I' m    so  sca re      d
   Now when I share my harbor it feels so
    U    n    fa    i r
        They don't understand what I risk give to let them be there
It never harbors in their heart as deeply as it does mine
     The possibility of even defining how hard it is to let these ships safely     pass through this harbor will now and forever never be able to escape  my pale numbing lips
    Only silence
Everything here is just riddled with murderous crashing waves
   Any relationship that enters I try so desperately to save
     And in that attempt
  The harbor starts to misbehave
            The waves destroy every boat or anything that floats
  Anything at all to help me cope with being so alone or the feeling of even remotely being at home.
      My fingertips are numb and cold and starting to fold and I can't feel those things I could before
I just want all of this over
N o    m   o re   dro w n    i n          g
All my life boats have sunk
    Now I'm just stuck
     All these hands and graves are grabbing at me and pulling me down        ev ery   whi ch     wa y  at  the
    bott om of the
oce an
u  nd   er

     al l
th e s     e  
    
h e   a     v y


               waves.

Irreplaceable you,
Drifting into my world
With so little a care
As the heat of the evening
Turned into a sordid affair

Irreplaceable you,
Riding me gently, tamer
Of heavy waves
Tangled together in shadows --
For you, I’ll always misbehave

Irreplaceable you,
Slipping from my grasp
And into another’s  --
Trembling toward your kiss
Tell me I’m your only lover

Irreplaceable you,
But replaceable me
Left to wilt at the shoreline
While you sailed off to sea.

Go back to your violent grace
Your elegant waste
Your newspaper paste
Trained tweaker taste
It’s all good
It’s all legal after all
But the future is moving
Too slow at a rapid pace
When the rabid ones
Are not free to die
An every electrical device
Unmoving, ruins your life
Soon the candles won’t burn fire
And the night will tame all desire
Slave to light sockets
Which were paid for from your pocket
You’re walking on a street of waves
An even dead trees somehow misbehave
When on every corner, inside them all
There’s the dearest, faintest, little hum
Yeah, there’s always an end to this
But knowing them they’ll ruin it
Do a down periscope on your soul
Is there anywhere left to go
That’s not gridlocked or sold
Well, now I really know
The worst is yet to come

I used to call them brave, the people who would misbehave
but it was destiny one day I would become like these kids
broken and alone, not feeling loved or happy

the bond between those youngsters was unbreakable
blood is thicker than water is what the old people say
but it in their case the water had won

some people call them tiger stripes
others choose words like battle wounds
you always called it beautiful
but for me it was a curse

something I could never stop
demons whispering in my ear

the devil loves pretending
he always seems to care

and for me that was enough.

Anyone who wants to fight me all the time
committee meetings, board meetings.
Facing death was how they knew they were alive
or was it more about allocating resources
like yr Dad said.
It's hard to step outside what yr DNA tells you to do.
Nice ****.
Family farm, fight club. It's all one yet distinctions are
what separates the librarian, reflective man, from the road and bridge
      crew.
That's a class statement. Us guys love
our children and will, circumstances dictating, fight for you.

                                 --------------------------------------

Anyone who wants to fight me all the time
is more important to me than my wife. But there is no one left to fight
and no one knows me and I know no one well. That's good,
there is more space between people than I'd ever dared to hope.
I'm confused.
Meditator or gunfighter. Either could come to know himself,
flat abs, clear sight
with patience and discipline.
What's this:
know yourself?
Once yr knee or neck is smashed there's no getting up to fight.

                                 --------------------------------------

Anyone who wants to fight me all the time
will grow old alone once I'm in the ground. He will live
with the question what was our purpose? He was managed by
the molecules we're made of, proteins, enzymes, amino acids, DNA.
******* DNA.
I'd rather be a rock.
But the rock is subject to
its elements. Thus, the periodic table and particle physics,
meiosis and mitosis and yes, democracy and self-governance,
all the colors of anthropology and ecology, windmills and sundials,
fission and fusion for evil and light
and the devil who exists to carry the load when we misbehave and
      fight
among ourselves.

                                 --------------------------------------

Anyone who wants to fight me all the time
is how I know who I am.
Because the truth is always changing, depending on the meeting.
What's good.
Service to others is a safe bet. That service
may take many forms: fighting, meeting, teaching, making.
The fighting may be part of holding community together. Limited
      scope, defensive posture.
How broadly we define community says everything. So,
we come to Mexico, a violent border and an unhappy history.
Or Gaza and Israel. Or Russia and just about everybody.
How can a people become a nation without resorting to violence or
      incurring violent reaction?
Does it matter? Accept violence like any EMT and devote yourself
      to
what, beauty?
Why do I write about violence, I've almost never
had to fight.

                                 --------------------------------------

Anyone who wants to fight me all the time
is nothing compared to the ocean which can take your children any
      time.
The Nazis or janjaweed.
In peace we have our meetings.
When violence comes to the neighborhood the hierarchy of
      communicants will hold or fold
it is then the peace work proves relevant.
Hold your clod of land.
Give way to the waves.
All I do not know.
I admire the writer who penetrates the unknown by describing that
      which
is not himself.
His enemy,
anyone who wants to fight him all the time
helps him live outside himself.

I wasn't looking for Ana—I had just seen her around

I didn't try to find her—it was me that was found

I wouldn't have guessed that we'd ever meet

But Ana's so clever—she just can't be beat

She'll crawl through a window when you close all the doors

And Ana, she's looking to settle a score

At first it was hard (controlling the greed)

But I've learned that Ana's the only friend I need

Free as a bird, light as a feather

I'm only happy if we are together

When the 'real' me started to show through my skin

people said, "you look so pretty, you look so thin"

No one realized I wasn't yet done

Cause Ana's work had only just begun

I realized I wasn't quite yet ideal

Life would be better if I skipped a few meals

As the scales dipped lower in my favor

I discovered 'skinny' was the tastiest flavor

Angles are corners, and corners can hide

Everything fat and twisted inside

When people started giving me looks

I smiled and said 'control' is all that it took

They shook heads, mouths curling down

I returned their disgust with a guarded frown

My friends tried to beg me to eat

But Ana just wouldn't let me cheat

Ana said eating was giving into fear

How could we stop when perfection was so near?

My parents told Ana was giving them a scare

But they didn't understand me so I didn't care

They told me Ana wasn't all that she seemed

But Ana had helped me achieve what I dreamed

Ana's the greatest and truest of friends

She promises that I'll be beautiful close to the end

It's Ana who holds my hair and lets me release

Whenever the urge to purge doesn't cease

Ana, oh Ana, so sneaky and wise:

"We're going to be friends until one of us dies"

I have to hide her away, people just don't approve

Ana's in my life and she can't be moved

Even if they tried, they couldn't take her away

Ana's in my heart and she's here to stay

People won't ever find in me what they seek

Because Ana has helped me perfect my technique

Then one day I felt more pain in body than in my heart

And I realized it was too late for me and Ana to be apart

Go ahead and befriend Ana if you dare

But reader, oh reader, please beware

You think that it's Ana who truly cares

But it's Ana who will haunt you everywhere

Once Ana gets a grip on you, she won't give you up

She'll just throw out your plate and empty your cup

"When people try to help, don't let them in"

See? With Ana, you can never win

After a while, she's gained all your trust

"lose more" she whispers, and you know that you must

For Ana's the master and you are the slave

She'll punish you sorely if you misbehave

It's too late by the time you realize the monster she's made

That's when you've already begun to fade

Please listen, dear reader—it's not the weight

It's not you—it's Ana that you truly hate

Ana's a wolf disguised as a sheep

But she'll stay by your side when death comes to reap

Ana and Mia are one in the same

Eventually it's your soul that they finally claim

I was fourteen when I paid the ultimate price

From taking dear Ana's 'helpful' advice

A special Christmas tree
Back home in California we would go to Disney land for Christmas we stayed right across Katella the street that runs in front of
Disney we stayed at the Anaheim Hilton Anaheim in German means home and we purposely asked for the fourteenth floor I loved to
Set that high and look out those floor to ceiling windows and type away that and on stormy days hideaway all day just watching the
Beauty of the blustering wind and the effects it would have on the grounds far below a tiny taste of heaven there was another reason
For requesting this floor the hotel was so dark on that side and we would put a small Christmas tree in the window how it glowed
Others like ourselves some much father from home than us could see this little twinkling tree in the whole of this black glass wall gave
Those a sense of home and their tree back there where ever that was we bought cable car decorations from San Francisco other
Christmas items were on the table when the maids came in they had a nice showy display a comforting scene to enjoy, the in God we
trust coinage is the universal way of saying thanks Abe and Hamilton are always welcome and really say have a great Christmas.

I’m not turning morbid but if you come to our home there is no outward evidence of Christmas it just any other day except the
Sacred honoring of his birth its not our choice it’s the hand life dealt us but I have a tree more beautiful than any great conifer of this
Earthen wood can produce the lights are the main attraction although the tree holds its own this town this life has very dark spots
I relight them at his special time these lights glow with familiar smiles faces filled with joy they come back from a far away land they
glow so white no need for diminished power from this earth they are glory white but as gems they come in all colors and sizes like a
Conjurer magician with a toss of his hand this wondrous spray of color gently falls in all places on the tree and of course the very top
Holds the star that represents the star that stood over Bethlehem you will probably recognize some of these gems by name there on
My tree for different reasons her are a few of their stories and names and who they are to me Clint my grand pa for many reasons
But especially this one I was four I was in the old white School house and I heard the story how he used to walk two miles to school
In the snow they couldn’t afford proper shoes so he wrapped his feet in rags he did this but it didn’t continue I guess just to cold the
Reason I know it didn’t continue at sixteen he went with me to city hall to get my driver’s license now an old man I had my heart broke
As I watched him sign with an X my heart just broke again the tears flow anew he is the gems that are extra special I call them my tear
Washed ones my dad is included he couldn’t read or write but he read the bible though haltingly three times asking me what words
Were Gary M. was another we were in eighth grade he couldn’t read simple words like at I would rather someone beat me with a
Board than see others suffer or be laughed at he was smart as a whip on cars his future was with his hands I know I’m A godless animal
But Gary took care of the guys to big for me I took care of those my size except for these two gems I was helpless one a student the
Other teacher I watched them both cry openly from the treatment they received one asked supposedly by an educator and principal
To quit school he was too much of a drag on the other students helpless against him and a teacher I respected did respect the others
Who hurt jerry C. physically got to experience how it felt to kiss the side walk at high speed that’s where I put them and other acts of
Vengeance they had coming now the teacher he was a preacher and math teacher I set their daily watching these bozos misbehave
Taunt this man until he cried in front of the class and right there he gave up his teaching job if I had a gang behind me like Butch H.
There would have been a whole class bawling he resides on my special tree I can’t tell you where they belong. I guess this goes along
In that vein this will have to serve as the tree stand do you know you can smile to much in this world I worked up north on a line in this
Factory and this Mexican what’s with these guys well this one proved to be deadly he glared at me and asked why do you smile and
Laugh all the time I thought man what kind of sad life is he having a pretty sad one the day I was on another assignment this same guy
Stabbed a kid right in the heart killing him instantly and blindness settled on everyone standing there no one saw a thing I will repeat
I’m a coward that’s the outer pen you push through the inner gate and you will face a bull, this guy walks free to this day if I was there
He or I would be dead most likely me he waasn’t just a kid I had an advantage over the MP waving a forty five in my face he was tall a and thin as a pencil
You don’t poke a bull with a pencil and you don’t try to whip me with a forty five like I’m a piñata he would have eaten that forty five
He had the teeth for it his problem he hated gringos but he only had a fist full of hate I had a whole body and life full of hate I walk
Slow talk slow but in a fight they had this saying in the service the quick and the dead he would never have seen what hit him but I
Hated self not him it feels better setting her than in Leavenworth. Sorry went from the tree stand to showing my roots I don’t do to
Good in some respects but depending on how hard you’re backed up against a wall the harder the better I look.

It takes many sides of a person to make a life I will soften with this gem’s story this is my crippled lighted gem my Grandma Denton
I never seen her when she wasn’t in a wheel chair I fixed this by observing her one sister in particular she was the same size and beautiful I
Transposed grandma onto Rosy and truly experienced all that was missed by the prison that was her wheel chair I have a picture of a
Native American woman dancing the shawl dance I just substitute grandma in her place and she made up the rest she set there I stood
By her side she took me with words to places and wonderful travels we had the greatest times now she holds a special place on my
Tree others on this tree is found in fathers’ story, solo flight, life force, lost friend a blend of people and nature’s monarch Imposter a
nation defined and many others enjoy his birthday season.

Come away with me, I know the perfect place.
A starless night where I can't see your face.
Surrounded by the death and decay of centuries past,
A place where I can bury us at last.

We'll consummate our hatred on consecrated ground
An epitaph, screamed into the void of the night is the only sound.
We'll shatter the peace of the dead as our bodies clash
Our hearts, kindling, our flesh, the flint, we'll strike together and burn it to ash.

Open yourself to me, time for one last round.
Look into my eyes while I pound you into the ground.
Scream my name while I use your body to misbehave.
I'm going to hate-**** this love, straight to the grave.

I love you my teacher
This love is forbidden
So I'm keeping it hidden
My heart is calling your name
You became its aim
If you knew my inside
You'll be angry
I'll have no place to hide
Can we marry?
Can you take me in your arms?
Only one time
Give me a lot of warm
After that I'll be fine
Forgive me, please
Losing you isn't that ease
Don't leave, give me safe
Give me happiness
Without you I would misbehave
Don't leave my princess

To the blushing bride to be,
This rite of passage you’ll not be spared.
Let your hair down, be wild and free,
Allow your tales and secrets to be bared.

Not designed for hearts too weak,
This night’s when us girls misbehave.
In our tutus, fairy wings and pink feather boas,
We’ll paint the town red and rave.

We’re like one dysfunctional family,
But we’ll bond and shout tonight.
Cocktails and Prosecco will flow freely,
As we dance the “Macarena” ‘til morning light.

We’ll have a blast and be merry,
For girls just want to have fun.
Adorned with “L” plates, you won’t stay sober
And your makeup will inevitably run.

On this, your last night of freedom,
It’s your final fling before the wedding ring.
Your head may be sore tomorrow,
But, oh, the stories these walls could sing!

Remember this night always,
With all your girlfriends at your side,
For you’ll soon tie the knot and be married
And embark on a magical ride.

Yeah
I totally understand
When you delete all of
My social networking sites
Yeah
I completely sympathize
When you go all overprotective
Parent on my ***
Yeah
It's a shame
When I defy your rule so
I can fit into the nest of popular
Yeah
I utterly hate it
When nothing goes your way
And your children misbehave
Yeah
I despise it too
When people lie
Kind of like I am doing right
At
This
Moment
Yeah
I know I am faking understanding
But I won't for long

Out of body, out of touch
If I feel at all, then I feel too much
This poem is as shallow as my grave

But I'm still digging

If I want a God then I'll misbehave
If I want to be sad then I'll entertain
Just because I'm found
doesn't mean I'm around
Just because I'm growing up
Doesn't mean I can't be down

I'm sorry, mom and dad,
but if I want to be happy then I'll have to be sad
I'll write until my fingers bleed
Until my words are the blood that the readers need

Fixed on salad ******* armpit ****
Passionate diaper ***** dodging queefs
**** fat farts and **** sipping
Squiggly nips dangling from a pig
coffee spitting ***** kids with sticks
sticking sticky ***** in **** like a *****
*** cream pageant queens spewing ****
Chris Kringle's candy cane **** tip dripping on lips
sweet **** water for your daughter
******* to Aaron Carter
**** the rest
I'm all out of ******* to step on
best be getting home to *** on my own chest
test the taste and throw out the rest
I tickle my intestines till I **** out hot stew
putrid black goo with nut chunks and fiber skins
stretching ball skin over my **** rim till it's all one
sack
use bread and sauce from a snack pack to make a sack
sandwich
hold the lettuce between my cheeks and toss my own salad
picturing *** ramming ***** spewing out tasty *****
gluey pools of chlorine smelling salty bliss
I picture gargling ***** while lesbians crawl all over me
vibrating fake skin ***** deep in my **** cave
if you misbehave I'll rip off your face while I squeeze your
**** in my teeth and make you sit on my face after you clean
your *** crease bleached and sweet

You walk a lonely path old man but now and then you show us
you're alive
And maybe when you've had a few you'll shed a sorry tear or two.
That's fine.

But if you really must insist on dredging up this ****
Each and every time.
As each new fact's learned don't mistake horror for concern.
Cos it's a lie.

I'm happy. My eyes are dry.
I can't feel pity looking in your killer's eyes.
So chin up son, don't you cry.
The things you did were unforgivable and I'll never sympathise.

Lying just beneath the skin there hides a multitude of sins
That wait
For a ear that doesn't sneer or recoil sickened
Cos they can't relate.

Seize any opportunity; for you've so many agonies
to share,
To unload your woes but that cross you built
is yours alone to bear.

Each sacred tet-a-tet where you might vocalise regrets
makes you renewed,
But don't forget that as they peer at you it's one-way glass
their peering through.

You look through misty eyes - your little heart is opened wide,
but their's are shut.
They can't return your gaze of hopelessness and shame,
They've heard enough.

If I thought there was an afterlife
I'd be concerned for what's coming your way
And whilst I don't believe in evil
You and him came pretty close I'd say

You can repent until your spent or
Flagellate your sorry self to death.
But if your just trying ro tell the world your sorry
Well, you can save your breath.

Leave flowers on his grave and promise that you'll never
misbehave again
Curse the wicked heart god gave you -
If you had the chance you do it all the same.

Mount another charm offensive
Show them all the side they think you lack
But know that no amount of
Humility will ever bring him back.

There was an elegant *****, from New York City
Or maybe Rome or New Orleans.
He was a spectacular ***, but didn't do drag at all;
Falling somewhere in between that category
Of glorious ladies and men of the day.
A queen with no throne nor entourage scene,
Camouflaging himself in skin-tight trousers,
Spectacular coats and jackets,
Packets of sachet in his pockets
To give him a scent of an unusual gent.
As if he had a choice in the matter.

He had a delicate way with his manner,
His hands and his eyes touching gracefully
As if not to disturb the dust on the mind,
Often very unkind, he used his tongue slicing
And dicing those who offended his senses
When such dared to step on his train
Invisibly dragging behind him, around him
Keeping his visitors at bay, a few feet away
Like proper subjects, courtiers to his grace
His face locked in a grin; hiding all within
The secrets protected by laden witticisms
Criticisms if you misbehave, saving smiles;
Handing out compliments like cookies.

There was always a waving of hands,
The arms caught in the wind like cornstalks.
For a moment. Then catching, ending like feathers
Settling together, resting as if cradling a baby
One hip thrown out, the head to one side
As if listening; hearing a devil's good joke,
Smoking a constant cigarette, the ends never wet
Laying the tip on the lip like a kiss
His face slightly lifted so the smoke will drift
Away from his half-lidded cynical eyes.

The talk could be varied, of Tom, **** or Harry
He would call women men and vice versa
Saying, Robert is a ***** woman is she.
He then waiting your laughter, hesitating
Seldom laughing himself, having said it all
Heard it all, done it all, had them all

No fertile male soil left unspoiled by his touch
Just entirely too much for one man to handle,
No woman to compare, he lived alone somewhere
Coming to the bars each night, a familiar sight
Drinking, but not seeming drunk,
Never sunk so low that he staggered,
Still swaggered after hours at the trough
Not so much as a slur or a cough.

He knew all the jokes that could be made
From a seemingly innocent mistake
Taking a word here and there and trading
Raising a regal eyebrow, somehow changing
Restating the meaning leaning it toward the crotch
Watching the listener's face, sensing the disgrace;
Granting himself the luxury of the infrequent howl
His majesty could keen like an un-oiled machine
Setting his victim's nerves and gooseflesh to snap
Giving his udderless chest a slap, he would go on
Make more of the jest, leave his victim no rest
And the mourners to offer their apologies.
Words such as that are not for ladies
Such as this infamous old queen.

The old spirit held on after the body was near gone
Propelling it nightly to appear on the scene.
Mean children would taunt him, just as he taught them
And waving their arms like cornstalks, cackle like hens
And tease him again, then resume cruising the men
Hurting the once regal spirit more with their disdain
Than beating him, or cheating him; ignoring him,
They dealt him a blow he never could abide
That fear he kept inside, all those years, the tears,
Still left un-cried, after he died, in his room somewhere.
He has left to be shared, the way he fluffed his hair,
The off-color joke, spoken in a strange lady's voice
Something like a boy's, not like a man's;
That flutter of the hands and the stance
Still copied today, by the splinter-group gays
That straight people think we all are
Is all that remains of a star once seen;
The seldom lamented, well-imitated, eternal queen.

“A writer is someone who has taught his mind to misbehave.”

― Oscar Wilde
"What people are ashamed of usually makes a good story."

- F. Scott Fitzgerald

“I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge – myth is more potent than history – dreams are more powerful than facts – hope always triumphs over experience – laughter is the cure for grief – love is stronger than death” . — Léon Bloy

A writer never has a vacation. To a writer life consists of writing and thinking about writing." - Anonymous.

“Knowing exactly where he is is as important to a writer as it is to a blind man.”–Ross

From atop mountains
Of debt
We tumble, like
The thrill of defeat
Dripping down
The quivering chin
Of blood-stained
America.

To quote a thunderstorm:

"All who question
The efficacy
Of God
Shall crumble
To an infinity
Of indecencies."

To quote a God:

"All who fall
Have not
Been pushed,
Those who rose
Were not all
Pulled.

"**** the heathens.
Justified are those
Who avenge the treasons
Committed unto me."

Waves of
Iridescence
Cleanse our pallettes,
And we open wide
For the next forkful
Of fermented
Excrement.
Bloodied are our knees
As we receive
The sacrement,
Trapped like rats
Cast in cement.

To quote a slave:

"Bound by prior
Engagements,
Sacrificed to
Advertisement,
The seeds of men
Wither in the soil.
Blood weeps
From poisoned skies
While YES WE CAN
Opens eyes,
And seals fate
Within fine
Print."

Wolves in
Cheap disguises
Bate their breath
Behind red grins
And finalize
The list of
Who gets in,
While in the cold
Stand the masses,
Marinating
In their own
Molasses.

From atop Parnassus,
A silver-lined horse
Watches the madness,
And snarls and spits
In shamed defiance,
While Apollo
Holds court
To form the alliance
That will interrupt
The defiling of man.

To quote a soldier:

"Cold is the mud
That cradles
The valiant.
Swift is decay
In these
Transient days,
Where passive
Observers rot
In mass graves."

Designed by the rich,
Assembled by slaves,
Our system
Keeps churning,
Rejecting all
Who misbehave.
Reflected in
Concentric waves,
The faces of children
Contemplate age,
And what it means
To be forever
Enraged,
Engaged in endeavors
That are only dreams.
They can't be saved,
And neither can we.
So it seems,
And so it should be.

He smiles in my direction as he walks in the door
And laughs at my heart, now a puddle on the floor,
The people walking by turn, point and stare,
I repeat over and over, “there’s nothing there…”

Rains of passion, waves of homicidal angst,
You can’t look backwards and still walk straight,
A million signs are screaming out at you:
Stop-danger-watch out-you’re running too

Quickly, swiftly your friends all walk away,
I’d like to say something, but it’d be so cliché,
Silently you sit and watch them go,
Hoping inside that they don’t know,
Maybe they won’t know, but everybody knows…

I think of you and I think about stars,
Captured fireflies in marmalade jars,
Beautiful reminders of what may have been,
But the fire goes out, and they lay there dead...

He says, “The poison doesn’t do it for me anymore,
I need a pain to leave me lying gasping on the floor,”
My eyes go cloudy as he looks to yesterday,
I wonder if it's me that makes you this way..

It broke my heart, I almost cried
To see you hurting, so broke inside,
Twist, plunge deeper, lemon and salt it so,
Some suffer in silence, I’ve come to know,
You’d rather be alone, you asked me to go...

The colors flew around the walls,
How I got here I don’t recall,
He handed me the bottle and I didn’t think twice,
"Just get rid of the pain, whatever the price..."

I think we danced, at least we may’ve,
Silly boy, to think I’d misbehave,
He said, “I bet I can change your mind,”
Slow down, pause, (can we rewind?),

“Hold my hand,” I pleaded, to who?
I don’t think so, that’s not something I’d do,
Stop, not there, leave me alone,
I don’t want to be touched anymore…

A glance at a reflection as I pass the mirror,
I thought I saw a smile, but it disappeared,
Spin around and around, a crystal ball,
Reality’s a mist that surrounds us all…

I’ve written enough small poetry
to start a nuclear war.
Do you want to die in traffic
behind the wheel of your car? Or in yr rodeer camp next fall.

Control eludes us. The hero
loses urinary control, the unified nation
loses missile control, lost my timepiece, lost my metronome,
now my music is ethereal as an archangel’s.

No owl hoots or duck quacks
or squirrels *******
or spiders spanning rampikes.
The floccinaucinihilipilification of nature.

No greater tragedy than a tipping
point that tests the hero’s gullibility, complicity,
self-control, comity, sense of humor
which is the only remedy not to hate those in authority.

Them guys with guns at the Michigan state house,
fat bearded tattooed ******* white bros.
Norsemen, Crusaders, Vikings, Britons.
For despair there is no forgiveness. Peace out.

Nuclear mischief, mad Man’s most incandescent bloom
and the devil who exists to carry the load
when we misbehave and fight among ourselves.
I wake up to my skin boiling off my bones.

Humor is the only remedy, or is ardor the best way forward.
We’ll see how things work out in the next generation.
The same diverse, spoiled, unpatriotic revolutionaries as at the nation’s
      beginning
trying to reverse the future, making phone calls to get out the vote in
      Georgia, hating the desert for having no water.

Events keep piling up,
the future depends on ourselves.
Conflict is inevitable and in this conflict power must be challenged by
      power
so err on the side of patience, perseverance and impermanence.