Love is a speakeasy
The secret joint where we get on

Where from under crawl spaces
And in between walls of bricks

None could ever ever tell us no
Here We let loose - Mr. Slick

Hey Cool Daddy, and Big Mama "Oh's!"
Drinking, music, drunk off jazz and soul

Love is a speakeasy
Not everyone knows,
              but everyone should...

Go and let go.

In the faraway land,
trees smiling and nails
Not the escargot snails
Booming business sails
His name Rusty nails
Super rich paper shredding
Destroying fine print
paper and nails affair

Those hot leads faxing
The heart opens up than bleeds
What a mess misleads to
More hoarders
Trying so hard to get
over the U-S-A border
When you least expect it
Being searched papercut body

Like Honey Bee without
Hair like a beehive
foxy lady
No Jive rock paper scissors
Twisted sisters also drying up
All lines and spot
like a dark romance
Cheetah
Not the Samson and
Deliah race
Millionairess place
Became a swamp
Forest of racers
Super moon Gump
Lady and the *****
I am Instagram Disney Pixstar
Getting looks by far
Superwomen nailed her
With Starwars
European fellows

Soft clouds daze-like fun yellow
Emotionally their crying
Broken one scattered piece
of glass, please I see something
to smile about
Super rich why do they get
the VIP pass laughing
He's the roundabout
Someone with love handles
Can we handle all this
Getting drinks and hot lady
winks hit or miss
Racing their motorcycles
Dark glove handles
What Harley Davidson cycles
Is that your best reaction trying
Mirror my mirror on the wall
I am not buying it super
rich mechanic
The only one chosen mirror
She feels ******
Love can give you tumors
Dissect you who will direct you
You don't feel this is your time
The sunny side of the street
Sunnyside eggs over easy

The Speakeasy
Your hair of ringlets **** wavy
Did he nail your darker side beat
Bird up your nest feeders heat
Don't break me up to fall
The phone rings dingaling
Spiritual candles witch is dead
Your mind is somewhere else
instead
Just make your silk ties of the bed
Tied to your ankle I love you
How your hearts just dangle
"Having a nail full because you're single"
Were all linked into something
Yodeling, not the business
of smuggling
Knocking on heavens door
Super rich marble black and white floor
Hammering nails in the cabin
He's fishing the hooks how it fits together
hugging
Going up the staircase to heaven
What a big cliff-hanging nail diver

Zippety Zepellin*
Songs whole lotta love
How you've been nailed in
the blackout
Not a piece blackout cake
Canarsie at the pier
Out of nails, the darkness hits me
Bend over nails like the devil more rivals
Never to be resentful
Always pray to be needful
Her face value of her smile
Being poor her soul
stepped on

Too many men, not enough nails
But they got their thrills
New York City construction
worker
He's wiped out being hammered
nails hot drills
Such poorly written emails

Her heels got stuck
No stars to shine *Rusty bar
Starbucks

Her mind was a
bulletproof vest  
"Jane and *****"
"Plain Janes" movie cut
Of paper dolls
Being Nailed Bunny hunt
of tricks
But all weapons he nailed her the best*

Blood stem thorns
Italian love horns
Robin Redbreast tweet text
What holds us together
French **** nails
Fountain of golden coins

Lion heads or tails the door
Back to spam ham of emails
Super rich we may never be
But New York will always
be my kind of town
He nailed it so
many times

New Yorker super rich talker
Like a perilous time super
rich food delicious
Pygmalion how we nail our nation

Deep down
Down the steps
Step into the underground club
Club of jazz greats
Great Gatsby happens nightly
Nightly partake in raucous debauchery
Debaucheries of heathen heat
Heat exuding from the beat
Beat of drum and bass of hearts
Hearts of lovers in the dark
Dark corners hidden
Hidden from all eyes
Eyes who spy their kiss
Kiss of true love's wish
Wish made on fallen stars
Stars that bedazzle and awe
Awe and wonder romancing the night
Night that finds two in love
Love in / is / a speakeasy
Speak easy with love....

*(Deep down
  Where great Gatsby happens)

Don't want to speak too soon
   or speak too late, for that matter

Should speak up and speak out
   ...cat got your tongue?

But not speak ill or speak out of turn
   ...bite your tongue!

Above all, speak the truth, your truth
   ...not with a forked tongue

Truth be told
   sometimes I don't want to speak at all
And if you knew me
   that would truly be saying something

Speak!...Speak!...Good boy...

Friday- the most promising day of all.
The beginning of the weekend, but the one day that will spark appall.

Down on Mainstreet all the girls
In their fringed dresses, pouting their foxy lips and their hair waving in short messes.

The hags frown as the winged ladies pass by- displaying their carriages a little sly.

Oh, but Jane's favourite speakeasy was 'The Back Room' down on Norfolk Street: the place where the lost creatures meet.

Tin ceilings, velvet wallpaper, plush thrones and back in that dark corner, there is the sound of low moans.

'A whiskey, neat, please' as a shadow in a tuxedo walked towards her and he whispered 'Hi,' in a sensual purr.

'Who are you?' he stirred,
'Oh, I'm Miss Doe' and he lept into the stool with a swift flow.

And the jazz trumpets married the spontaneous harmonies and the saxophone created sublime melodies.

So they sat as idle as ghouls in the dim spotlights, until Jane asked Mr Buck:

'D'you fight in the war?' And he whined 'Cambrai, Amiens and Lys' - his lips seemed a little sore.

'I'm sorry - do I know you?' His face looked as familiar as Jay to Nick. A brief pause in time at that smile.

That was the final chord to the "lick".
He drove her down to Roslyn- to his replica of Versailles and Jane looked intensely shy.

'Oh, do come in,' the desperado soughed. And she walked into the gilded palace which Cupid's presence bowed.

'I have a favour to ask of you, Miss Doe. Would you be as kind to wash away my woe?'

And as they congressed under diamond chandeliers, his comrades gathered around the bed in amorphous silhouettes; watching disgustedly.

As for Mr Buck he was an alien, skin-to-skin with a haunted beauty and Miss Doe- a labourer on duty.

Demon ***
Fill me up
Numbish tongue
Blur, slur much

You find yourself in a strange street somewhere, a busy street of a big town or city
There's people going around about their business
They pass you by paying you no heed
You'd think you'd feel lost, an outsider here
But no! You don't,
You've been here before
And what's more you seem to know your way around
And there's this wonderful excitement inside of you
This delicious expectation of something
You know there's great delights to be had here.

You seem to know exactly where to go
You turn off the street into another and walk a short way
Then there's another street with some shops
And there's this one particular shop
Outside it's not much to look at
Even inside there doesn't seem to be much going on
There's other people there but you're not interested... you're not even curious
It's like you're on autopilot
You walk right up to the counter
And the lady comes over
And you whisper "I'd like to go in the back please"
It's just like a Speakeasy
She tells you to wait, to take a seat for a second, then she disappears
A few moments later a door opens over at the side
The lady is standing there, she beckons you to come over
You go and suddenly there's this long hallway/corridor
You go down it and there at the end
It's the Salon !

You can ask for whatever you want in the Salon, whatever you desire
And it's all... it's all totally free
Suddenly you find yourself in a room
There's a beautiful lady there
She's naked and she's smiling right at you
Then you realize that you too are naked
She comes up to you and caresses you, she's so soft and gentle
You can feel her touch, feel her body pressing against yours, and then she kisses you
Her tongue in your mouth
It's like licking an ice cream...an ice cream cone
She's so...so sweet
You can really feel her like she's something... something totally real.

(I remember when I was younger I used get these nightmares all the time
There was one and it was like this claw around your throat suffocating you
You'd have to really fight it, make an almighty effort to wake up, to escape it
It was something real, a force you had to fight, you could really feel it
The feeling in the Salon, it was similar but it was like the opposite of that
Instead of being something threatening it was something wonderfully pleasurable and thrilling).

She's so amazing, so soft and so gentle
You start to get aroused, it's like a lovely energy running through you
Like a wonderful slithering snake, so pleasurable
You feel like laughing at the joy of it all,
Normally now you'd come to a ****** and that'd be it over
But this time, no! this time I suddenly stop her, and I start to talk to her (I find I can talk to her)
"You know", I say, "you're so beautiful, so gentle and soft and kind
You're too good for the likes of me, I don't deserve you
Where I come from, I haven't met many really nice girls, not like you
It's always been like a battle, the Girls I've known,
They run you down, rip holes in you
Talking loud, trying to shock you and embarass you, control you
Have one eye on you, the other on their gang behind you
Their in no way genuine
You're nothing but a plaything to them
And y'know... it's all I've ever really known
I've never met any...any soulmate
And what's really sad is now I find myself gravitating towards those kinds of women...
I mean the cruel heartless ones
Why...why is that?

Me! I'm like that song "I don't know what Love is (I want you to show me)"
I don't know what real Love is, I haven't the faintest clue, the faintest idea
Hell! I don't even know what a girl, a woman is
I never had a sister and when you don't have a sister
It's the media, the world that tells you what a girl, a woman is
Their just pretty faces and nice *****, lovely legs and shapely bottoms
Then I look at her and I ask
"You don't have another more strict, more harsh severe kind of Lady
Some demanding imperious black leather clad (or rubber clad) *****
Maybe some superior cold aloof glacial goddess type,
Or what about a beautiful black booted stiletto heeled nice blonde **** girl, beautifully cold and merciless ?"
With this she gives me a knowing smile
"I know just what you're looking for" she says
Then she brings me to a room and tells me to wait there
She smiles when she's leaving me and there's so much in that smile she gives me
It tells me I'm in for an amazing time.
When she's gone I think to myself
"Well, this is a first, this never happened before
Now I'm gonna meet some awesome formidable lady, some terrible haughty domineering Queen
Y'know she might even talk to me, I might learn something
She might tell me why things are the way they are.

Anyway I'm waiting there pacing excitedly up and down the room
I can hardly contain myself
I can hear voices in the next room
Suddenly then, right out of the blue, suddenly this Bell goes off, yea! this bell starts ringing
What's that! I think to myself, Is there a fire! Are we being raided !!! What's going on ?
So I look out the door and there's this girl talking to another girl down the hall, their smiling and laughing together
They seem oblivious to any bell that's ringing
What the hell, I think, what's going on, that's really annoying
What's... what's that Bell ?
Eventually my eyelids, they start to flicker
Until finally they open up altogether
I find myself lying in my bed and my alarm clock on the bedside table... my alarm clock it's ringing
"Feckin', feckin' alarm clock!" I think to myself,
"Now that's what I call... that's what I call Bad timing".

Under hooded lanes on my skin,
you're making homes
to house each memory
you breathe onto it.
No door is shut in these homes,
No window latched,
No bed unslept in,
No cry unheard in.

Swirling concrete,
******* hearts,
And the faith of young people -
Three impossible stories that you're teaching me to read.
Word by shaking word,
Syllable by foreign syllable,
I learn these stories slowly -
Your heartbeat is my meter,
Your shut eyes are my verse.

We're learning of new tongues drenched in alcohol,
forbidden by the weight of countless accidents.
Fallen-star-paperweights,
Slurring-satin-papercuts.

We're tasting new lives,
new times,
new seas and pools,
and all they can say is

*we're speaking easy.

fell from her home
Skies of ohio
stumbled from a cloud
Grew her wings on the way down

hellboy in the back pew
cigarettes, blue dress shoes
closed her bible, "I refuse"
She said, "To be a mans property"

Honeybee
Honeybee
honeybee spread your wings
Honeybee
Honeybee
neither bird nor angel,
she flys free.

"I'll take the skills to cook and clean
our sneezes will still sound the same
I'll vist on holidays
but don't you ******* bless me"

"I'll be Domestic for myself
clean home and the best of health
Foster bees
a book to read.
But the bible ain't for me."

Honeybee
honeybee
Somewhere in the inbetween
honeybee
Honeybee,
apartment on deering st

she met me
at a speakeasy
"if you want me you better find me
Through the bookshelves I'll be waiting"

I turn the pages
Find her wedding ring
kept under the mattress,
not even god as a witness.


Doctor in ireland, she told me

escape in comic books
while he's away.

"Before we start, you have to know
One day I'll leave forever
Let's live a life we won't forget
In the meantime, together."

"I live with no one to respond to.
I live without boundary.
My ride or die resides in ireland
I'd like to love you while he waits for me."

Honeybee
honeybee
I've never tasted honey so sweet
Honeybee
Honeybee
Honeybee, Come lay with me

A few kisses later
cross legged in an office chair
sipping warm tea
I wake
green eyes watching me sleep
It's these moments
in between

Honeybee
Honeybee
were those mornings just a dream?
Honey bee
Honey bee
you leave

Remember me
in the old and green
honeybee
you were always free
guiness jogs my memory
The little things
inbetween

Behind a speakeasy
in a ***** moonlit alley
silhouettes climb up a tired
and worn out stairway
vacancy signboard beneath
an incandescent light bulb
marks the nondescript entrance
for the nights commerce

Outside the window ledge
a billboard hums an electric tune
between the blinds neon light
sneaks into the room
casting shadows on a naked
landscape across the mattress
spread totally disinterested
pockmark flesh limply waiting

Clumsy hands fumble
to unzip stained denims
hobbling with unsteady steps
to the edge of the bed
a drunk smelling of cheap whiskey
and ***** smiles at me with
two rows of rotted stumps
my first customer of the night

you can be my fella
if I can be your gal
we can go to a speakeasy
and sneak kisses on the walk home
swell

pin me after class
I’ll wear your letter cardigan
so everybody will know
that we are going steady

pick me up in your porsche 944
we can go for a ride
put in your favorite tape (tenderness)
and we can spend the night together
rad

we could start as adversaries
like in every 90’s teen movie
but secretly we will fall for each other
until our relationship culminates
at the party
where the whole school
is getting down to B.I.G.

let’s be facebook official

I've been drawing
A blank
Dwelling in this
So called
Conundrum

Only giving
Half hearted gestures,
Forsaking all others

I've deliberately
Out smarted
All the details
Lost in time

Jittery
On every
Steamy day

The remedy
Never lies
In the score book,
Or with
Criminal instincts,
Not even
The crooked
Cab drivers

So I'll wander
In these
Unvarnished
Chocolate covered
Nightmares

I'll hide
Under the
Stairs
Where spiritualistic,
Speakeasy
Behavior
Only leaves
You
Killed or injured

A whirl
Of such discovery
And you
Will finally
See

It's mostly people
Who cause
This kind of
Unease

Aye, they'll be no wars here
Russian Sci Fi full neo-hero trope
post the untangling of tongues in 2019
We got us a 'ero, sh

it's bueno, like okeh
A. I. imagined
"Better Than Us"
paquin paquin 'skool

global mind making us see us

Bable was a long long time
whole wide world now speakeasy one tongue un
tangled
from
the root of all evil

virtual free speech is like free thinking

Bravo Holmes Noshit Sherlock

Ruskie TV on Netflix, this is a brave
new world

how much green screen clueing do we need

how real can you imagine
this source
being
in A/I termsa All In Art-effectual Inteleosity

Eh, wanna play
the long game? Snak-ish sistere quest on a point

is the whole world chromakeyed to black?
CMYK reality
2-d
3
4 and we know there
is more

life is com
plixitified in timespace with sinkholes

from russian lit gone t' seed
in the days of geek gods in realms of emoting

demoting weight of adrenalin on a globalscale,
umphing
the dmt, just to see men dance.
  try it, its in you, you think dreams

you know you do
think
dreams, hard wireless ness courage
daring

to ignore the backstory and take the hero as
the hearer of the

angels, the forder of the hermetical stream
flowin' tween yen
and yanked

into reality with a pull
that broke the skin, an orange picker memory
eh?
would you know the rod of an almond tree,
if one budded in your mind,

lockt in the box of the coven
entitlement to the
kingdom, after
kings mean
dung and reality tv is indistinguishible,

can you hear Turings's gay chuckle,
how about…

now.
Folk Art, the ruskie actor says, winks and
pirouettes into

a spiral-ation action,
slipping in rorshach assumptions...

beacuss, be a cause
we can,
its
bits and digits all the way down,
the turtles were

never holding up progress.
They could have been repurposed in future myths,

as mutants emerged from sewage,
wait
...
who imagined that,
for real?

Your children must know the truth,
who will tell them if you can't lie?

That is an A, an alpha idea.
Can you think it? But is a Beta,

but beta is always better, eh?

Everybody knows, we sneeze in threes.

Charlie was the enemy, C. Company
Rhose to the occasion

how long ye simple ones
choose ye simplicity?
asif
complexity
this odd is
simple as pi wrapped in
Hopf-fibrations you twist in your soul,

There's the question? A/I (Arisa in this Netflix
re-run of "Better Than Us")
arisen
from,
queried through by
every
whether person's vacillating
on the
width of the eye of the storm
in the  elex-elite
distrix,
as co-related with the
degradation of the
Great Red Spot.
---

Episode seven or so
the russians call coaches coach.

Hey, I call coaches coach,
even ones I never knew. WHO knew ruskies do to,
s'bueno,

Hard to hate a team player, with coach
respect dripping, dark stains on the green screen

where what shapes the future
reality is

visible, If I squint....
Those can't be, can they?...
Potemkin villas,
filmed in 2016, to run in Amerika
now, leading upt to interupt the
intentional animosity
with frivolity in
the 2020 build up of crudescence.

We have seen the enemy and he is we
envisioning good A.I. Art-effectual Inteleos,

as well as Pogo Possum did, Earth Day One,
1970, nigh half a century passed away as
funny papers faded into

the medium of memory -- look around--
loved ones ain't in the funny papers, like regular, back
when ink ruled the imagination involved in
judging
how Tibet was depicted... in our mind's
hearing ears and seeing eyes

shhh,
how about…
can you hear Turings's gay chuckle,

now. It's the test.

Today felt like a clandestine speakeasy,
smoke in the air warmed spirits
as we pour glasses of burgundy wine
and dance with our arms around each other,
our noses touch occasionally to celebrate
the occasion.
Today, emotions trickled up to the eyes
like a fountain of some sort
wondering if it’s love
or if it’s pain. And instead of tears I hear
laughter and sad jokes.
Tinges of red and brown around the edges;
coffee stains that remind me
of a me that never will be.

Pressing these keys to express my emotions
I'll give you all of me, my time and devotion
You are my type of writer the one I was I hoping for
I'll give you my mind because it's not spoken for
My blood is your ink and your ink is my blood
No one will know our bond but only The Good Lord

You know me like the back of your hand with the turn of your platen
We will continue to roll on with complete satisfaction
Letting our love speakeasy
And
You were always my freedom
Allowing me to be me without any reason

So I thank you!

-V.v.V. Ds

She preferred to take her smoke
break in the bathroom facing
the mirror, losing herself
with each deep breath on the
soapstreak glass.
The single was her
speakeasy, her dressing room,
her long, French cigarette parting
her lips to keep her lipstick from
gluing them shut. She pulled on the
paper towel lever for a temp lover
to kiss until her lips stopped bleeding
Revlon. And the tissue lay balled up
in the trash
having only known her tar love
for a few moments.

The bells tolling and gallow stools
Carved by a crisp knife sharpened by a stone flint-shaped among the garden tools
The molded and weak rose like the solid and stolid coveting
The dolorous limelight seekers were sure about the fun settling
The call-in your wake is sure to make you disagree, subversively
Pretentious till it leads me into ruinous states, with each verse
Troubled and telling about the stoic salacious dread, of your *******
The sins and arresting rebels brought you minister and spirit
The apologetic and shrieking in their walls their apologies
Am I the only one, who thinks
They don't change their disposition
Time I'm tearing you up into fragments
My stories are getting caught up in their endings
Caught by the hook of standing on the ceiling, rear-ended
The knee-deep hell, mountain high harp, what the ****!
Reelin' and rockin' in heaven, indeed purgatory calls your bulls and porgies
Greed and corporeal blood and recipe for dreadful disaster, and luck you yammer about out-and-out too
It's in your flesh and bones, ****** vain too
Feels like time is slipping and sliding out of my oval face and hateful hands
The friends you seek to hold you when you're ready?
Blows, busy days, France in its hey-day had some passion rather saints who come marching in
Are you ready to read your death in the newspapers, when your stomach lurches like holes in the air
Or here from storytellers like a burnt legacy, in the papers that herald flying guns and leveraging politics
And hate, rising with the ashes, the education burning blue like a phoenix
Apogee, really, after so many a doubt and clusterfuck of redactions, I'm ready to learn about counted visage among the many faces on a business street
About my attraction to nature and fantastic reality, I'm jumping with joy
But, smaller than the cosmic bubble that keeps us from dying
I can tell no one, this is our one and only time with faded humor
You're breeding and you're dying with famished and frayed daughters of petulant sons believing hilarious rumors
I am dismembered much to my won't, the stentorious frolicking reeks around astute anecdotes of my pain of having a name
Even it's a fake one and adopted by pretty old me
The antidote of all this, love and peace, it must be the end of fashion and integrity
Peace and love cradling the waves wandering in mystery
Walking among the feet of trembling rage hungry for power, our love is just an island, but, not the little flower that just matured
If I engender myself, I will be free from being prematurely always on
Smidges and shakes for the collared contingent of successful women
For the one, surreptitiously resting under the invisible sun, sticking out their necks for none
Smack her flesh across till light turns still
The center light pops in expectation of blue days and flooring her money on her mind
On the reeling hail, tying the wrong laces and pushing wrong buttons
I left the hall crazed and surprisingly fully-dressed
Snake-like heads facing away from each other with their smothering hands around my neck
I unhand my royal touch and my license for the cream-crop
Not sure about my violence and clammy hands, but, my old man didn't like it all that much
Handing the trembling papers of my record for another dispensary
The errands that I have to run, I would recommend this to no one
Watching movie reruns and playing my new dreams in my trailer park, every time she was the one
Tea and teeming, brink and livid feeling, reelin' with the great high upstart
Cosmopolitans and Neapolitans, I'm probably going play to Jupiter jazz for another meridian of Earth
Red rain splaying like the sand Andalusian like, waving my hands care-free, only to slam my self down easily
Into another speakeasy with a wake-up call and nightcap, dusk till dawn
The day seems brighter and the sun scintillating like the queenie-eyes on the resting sunshine on the iridescent soil
Ecstasy open miles ahead, the eyes lay in peace and capacious lamps full of soul food and meals
Like lamps and little lintels, the coruscating fire makes the colors of the day seem much more real
The tears in Heaven are adjusted for a place in my salvation
Vitriolic, but, mellifluous in it's surmise, you're sure about the music you're hearing
Crouching upon old times like washed memories
Or is it the waters of the ocean afar from snake-like repellent waves of the oceanic dreams
The snake passes by, in the time of your lifeless soul
You were just pacing yourself, the motto is "Always look your prime and best"
They are your true reflection, this is the one and only reflective surface I will attest to, lest I sound sanctimonious
Bo vine and in vino veritas, you're ecstatic about auriferous objects
Sheep and tipping civilization with the conquest of the times, and the same sundial from Eratosthenes that made citadels
The conquest of Troy is any different from the present oligarchy
Librarian of Alexandria, and the Trojan horse of cursed hands mixed with the opportunity
A couplet for a couple of composite numbers is enough to tempt the prime number
In showing up in your  classes brimming with achievers, some students among them
Eratosthenes' sieve is diligent work on simplicity, so yes, whoever reads this, the wake-up call is not a snake bite
This is Stoicism, and poetry is stoic writing cannot be duplicated
The moral could be looking at hopeless dreams, helplessly
Just passing by without shedding any of it on your probity

All-Ziggy in--- one
He's the dockers
Let's zoom in clickers- - -
The computer meets
Mr. hackers
Deleted all my cookie's
All we need is love and crackers
Am I bookedslightly jammed jar?
Just like Romeo huh? love-scarred?
So hurried ((Agatha Christie))

Overwhelmed worded
Overboard been thrown
Inside her mystery
drunks of the
Dynasty

Lippy all snappy
G-Q this isn't a
book quiz

I Quit Hippety-Dippetty
Hungry Hippos
Hop(scotch) drinkers
Queen hoarder of junk
ZZZZ Tiara with *****

Zillions got jealous
Charlie of the sea
tuna fish clunky
Where is the Pasta
So Sticky (Seashells),
Bowie bow-ties Z
ZitiMan of La Mancha
Like a muzzle puzzle
Mr. Mancini Ronzoni
Meet musical genius
Bowie**

((Ziggy Stardust Wish)

Ziggy zero 000-000

The zoo-keeper Mr. Bentley
So zealous fast food
jealous and devious
Mistress of the
Agatha got tedious
Jean Jeanie magician

Music notes and
  Stripey stars Bass
Her speakeasy pass

((Breakfast at Tiffany)).....**
The Auditor of the
Audry Zig Zag
Putting on the ritz
Hip Hop Hepburn
Zigziggary
book narrowminded
Zachery? Broad-sworded
Ziggy Star Dust
David Bowie talent to trust
The ground
control___**
to Major Tummy Zonky
And Slinky got stepped on
Over her ring pinky

Zionist Benny and the Jets
Elton John pianist hits

Zoonotic Gin and tonic
zigzag Zebra
style purse
Where are her show
Polish up my poodles
The restaurant was cursed
Zagat rating
leash she went out*
hypnotic ZZzzzz's
Queen buZzzzz Twiggy
Fame whose to
blame
Zoe her macaroni
Twist and snout Grill

Cherry blossom
Shiba Uni
Was her best thrill
his zig-zag tongue
Ziggy playing rugby
She was stretched

((Ziggy Book like Gumby))

Zonked spaced out
the Zonka truck
Phantom
Theatre Dig her Dorothy
red slippers

Ziggy Stardust
Disney Pixar Flippers
Totally Rad Toto
Zoe met Joey GoGo
Felt like Chop Suey
Agatha high drama
African Queen Jungle
Dr. Suess bald eagle boss
No ******* to twinkle
The bad day of
tendinitis
The ringing cheering ear

Martha my dear
Never beat Beatles
Jim Carey hell of a
sleigh rideTinnitus
At the Marilyn
Millionaire bar-hop
bus stop wiggles
Some snags fishnets
  Trump it up
everyone shut up_$$$
The *******_
Zillion Price tags
on the plane
The Easter basket
Just Sunny she's over easy
eggs ramble

Ziggy Scandals
Odd-couple Oscar
Trumpets Tony Randal
Zip of the lip
Miss fuss ***
She needs her
diapers

Beach Boys Truffles
Sherry baby got poison
mushrooms
The bed end__
(All Z) initial bookmarker
The end of her sleepwear
Her backpack bad crow
eye pack
and zigzagged---///---
Ozzy Oz land
Arrowsmith dead-on
nailed it, witch
A to Zzzz's H Harrods
Her London's hair
The rock (Fritz) That's
Showeyyy biz
Cleopatra
He's the Mantra zestier
Zoological Mixed greens
Ziggy zig-zag salad

All wormy Planet
Humming and rhyming
Wiggly but not ugly_>>>
here's to all of
you Ziggy Huggy

Let**

It’s painfully silent in the speakeasy
And this newfound peace makes me queasy
I lug around a heavy suitcase of deceit
For hiding one’s damning devils is no simple feat

Me

I stalk through and survey my domain
Hunting excellency among cheap cologne and horns of the midnight train
Right then, spotted her face and struck my most potent sneer
I could see past the plastic smiles in all their thin veneer

Make

Wait until she leaves the bar to drag her back inside the killing fields
Quickly hush her chloroform cries and keep my eyes perpetually peeled
I kiss her nape and fly away from the world’s wears
Whisper “You’re a gorgeous doll neatly wrapped in silk and nightmares”

You

Safe within the grasp of thickets, I force her grin and lick the dimples
Get struck with horror when my vision spots one too many pimples
I cry with the straw-filled fiends illuminated by lantern light
Then embrace my honed craft, without delay, for all waking hours of the night

Better

When all points of perfection fall out of quiver
When the sorrowful scarecrows look upon me and shiver
I’ll cut out my beauty’s flaws from largest lump to smallest sliver

What a fool I was to do this.
64 cents to my name.
A vast offering,
You string me along a long and dark ever bounding set of trees.
Standard roses.
A man who lodged in the room next door, with a cold tongue.
I can still taste you.
SMACK.
Burning green.
Tiny swallowed patterns on my knees.
A woman asked me and I told her I would be lonely; looking onto the street.
He’s dressed in blue,
Wash (white clothes)


He had a winsome smile that you couldn’t see in a photograph.
It mimicked Michelangelo.
Brimming with confidence, then there was a heavy swell; caused by tidal surges.
Rolling waves that did not break.
Sangfroid.
How cold and calculated he was.


"I don’t drink, but I do karaoke" I’m told by a woman with a cigarette between her lips. I push myself into an old elevator. Below me; speakeasy. I want to make love to you in a room with a door that takes two hands to shut. Hardwood floors. I’m not sure what I’m trying to say; it hurts us?


I tried to drown them.
They would have never existed; moments between.
It used to be easier.

Fate is a funny bird,
The way she breezes in,
like a tipsy traveler,
tinkering with the scenery,
bumping switches,
with a head toss and a laugh,

Then flitting off,
to the next hapless reality,
leaving not so much,
as a blueprint,
or a crudely sketched,
cocktail napkin,
in her wake.

And so began the story of us...

I had seen the inside of that bar,
but once in a decade,
it was the sort of solo-cup,
frat haven,
of the type I staunchly avoided,

But the city was a Sunday night,
ghost town,
and she snd I were diligent,
two chicks desperately ,
chasing the night,
we wandered onto Boston Street.

And you were there,
slinging drinks,
to a smattering of people,
peanuts,
A handful of bar snacks,
in semi formal wear.

And then there were three,
I'll never know,
if it was boredom,
or a  mutal wish
to be anywhere,
but our respective homes,
that kept it going,
or if  something,
in each of us,
recognized the other,
that night,

Gypsy dancing into the dawn,
sauced on your private recipe,
lemonade warlock potion,
my frienzied twirling stitching,
a spell in the darkness,
while my friend,
assured of her superiority,
tried to ****** you,
With that cocked-brow smirk,
you looked past,
and watched me.

Was I burning bright?
Or burning out?
A superstar in your midst,
or a supernova self-destructing?

I think we've yet to see it
the same way,
at the same time.
Is this our strength,
or our impending demise?
To this day I can't be sure.

And somwhere,
in a dank speakeasy,
our mistress fate,
is taking a long sip,
from a dry martini,
and throwing back her head,
with a throaty laugh.

...

10. I see you across the bar.
I remember that quote about how 10 seconds of insane bravery is all it takes
To make miracles happen.
9. I realize that I've got the quote wrong
And that even insane courage would still leave me
With the wrong words.
8. I take a sip of my Morgan Coke
hoping it can give me the courage to say, "Hello."
It's vanilla notes make me wonder
What your hair smells like.
7. I realize that wondering what your hair smells like is a really strange thing to wonder about a stranger.
6. I think back to the courage sentiment.
My friend finishes telling a joke.
There is laughter.
5.
4.
3. I take another sip of my drink.
The courage hasn't set in yet.
Every love letter I've ever read comes rolling back through my mind.
I begin to wish I was F. Scott Fitzgerald.
I mean - have you seen the way he wrote to Zelda. That's how I want to talk with you.
A romance that roars like 20's.
A romance as obsessive as staring from the dock at a light across the water.
A romance filled with speakeasy passwords to each other's most intimate thoughts.
Our whispers will not be sweet nothings, but sweet somethings.
And when we decide to sing,
Well, I won't have the words to describe that either.
2. I am sitting at the bar.
My friends are still laughing.
I wonder what your laughter sounds like,
And the courage hasn't set in yet.
1.
0.

I WILL CAPITALIZE THE
EXCLAMATIONS OF LAMENT
AND KISS YOU WHOLLY

as if nothing happened,
everything rearranged with
careful hands like furniture
in a household

I WILL SURRENDER MY
SUPERLATIVE ARMS
AND THE GUILLOTINE
OF THEIR REITERATIONS

as if everything is ripened,
everything repeats with analogue
flame and reappears unsullied
as a chastised vestige

I WILL TAKE THE SUN AND
EAT IT, SWALLOWING THE
DAYS AND THEIR APT DELINEATIONS

and whisper to your ear,
the night where everything
emerges fresh and anew, glazed
like budding of fruits hiding
behind brambly walls of leaves,
as speakeasy as a salutation,
as formulaic as a synthesis
of light,
as unprecedented as a salvage
of lightning at the back
of silver hills,

take you in my loving arms
and tell you
everything i feel.

I don't dance, I said
But my love for you is greater
Than my need to not embarrass myself
What is love without vulnerability
So I danced that night
As best as I could
Pretended we were the only ones
Left in that speakeasy
The live music echoing through my body
The alcohol moving through my veins
And I don't dance
But maybe for one night
I can be the kind of person who does
The kind of person who lets loose
Twirls without care and loves their body
Despite awkward hips
Legs that stall and ****
But tonight, I can become someone new
Who lets themselves go uninhibited
Who unapologetically twists and twirls
Who shakes out the day, so tonight,
I do dance - but maybe just with you

in kindred arms we lose control
while words pour out of frothy mouths
in fountain-like ecstasy
the mountains we like to climb
have suddenly declined our invitations
while we pretend
that the earth was meant to rhyme
theses chaotic times
remind me of our inevitable demise
gifts are cheap when purchased for free
like the speakeasy’s mind
driven blind by wandering
never stopping
lightning can’t be bought
but it can divorce you from your shirt
leave you thirsty and wanting more
you are begging for love
but there's no cure
so shove this apple in your mouth
and try to relax your throat
the violence is apparent
while separation is silent
those diamonds remind us
of the grief we can not speak
i peak into the room
and find you fast asleep
how do metaphors appear
how can we change our style
step out of our bias
leave behind the mindless sell-outs
shadows and freckles
remain on your face
take refuge in
the unwavering silence of the heart
aside from this
there is no other wisdom to impart
so much for good company
this solitude echoes in our bones
as we defiantly
strike out against the zones
that leave us isolated and alone
and clinging to the dial tone

I: Stimulus Package

There calling for the money
The production is over budget and my pockets are hemmed far too tightly
Piddely
Diddely
Squat
Made up words will always describe me best

My spinal cord
My spinal cord
My spinal cord for a kingdom
Debts are paid in vertebra
Bet the bone
Dire straits to win
Eight plus eight equal’s six-teen
Double down
******* double down
Portions and parts are not acceptable; I want the whole danm thing

II: Stimulant Package

So you want a poem?
What does it matter my microphone will always smell like whisky
Assumptions
Assumptions  
I denied my right to a trail so the jurors can exit to the right

I ask for two and you give me four
A charity case, so what have I to be proud of?
Sip, chug, a funnel because when you’re young it’s never fast enough
Speakeasy
Prohibit the dialog
Fraud! No! *******!
My diction is ******* in the market and selling seems like the only way to survive

She steps over the *****
She’s a ripped dollar bill
Worthless!
She wants me
I want her
I want to mount her Everest
Pike her peak
Visit the Fertile Crescent and plant my seed
I want to make her right
Keep her symbols chiming to the proper beat
Her foot slid down my leg
Removing the top layer
I’ve been infected
Fraud! No! *******!
She was clean
She was free
A saint
A sales woman
A freeway fruit-tree
I couldn’t help but peal the flesh away to see

Afterwards…..

She asks; who are you?


III: Mercy is a Cancer

Nobody till Friday
A ****** flunkey
A wall that is pomegranate not plumb
Half a bubble off of: Who the **** are you!

Age seems to makes naivety an easy target
Jesus was only thirty two but his ideas held enough water for you
Drink it up when there is only a sip savoring is really out of the question
You want to know who I am…

I am about fifteen cigarettes away from running out of words
Fourteen beers from apologizing for what I said and start agreeing with you
Thirteen second thought until I start resenting you

This is what you signed up for
There’s no retirement plan
Heaven is a truck but all I could afford is this beat up station wagon

Who am I
The **** taken on company time
Non-billable hours
So wipe and flush me away

F i m F i v v e r 2/22/1990 © 9 years ago, Bryant j Frye