the intent completing my purpose.
A bud on a stem capitulated to a
bee on a wing , challenges flew from me.
Experienced in fertilizing analogy, I  intended, but
obviously wilted under the pressure and blamed it
on the sun or lack of rain or pigs eating my roots away.
When I neutered myself, verbally,
darkness understood and drew me in:
oils were painted imaged in unrealistic views expressionist caricatures.
Experimental images all failed to resurrect
the benefits I had splurged.
I only meant to live.

suppose peace gonna overcome
someday?
I've tried to help old ladies
bums
been a **** drunk discovering
the bottom
my self
given my heart soul and money
to orphaned animals
try to give forward

draw peace signs
in hidden places
and all caps LOVE
I hide in library books about the
holocaust
at times

I've sat giving lectures to the birds
to ants to trees, leaving traces
of my heart at their
root
and they seemed to listen
be aware of man's atrocities
clap applaud at times

I've been a minstrel
self-ministered
drawn on theologies
and  pathology
drawn and painted every self-portrait
I could while seeing
nothing

deeper
or wiser than
a sunbeam through limbs on the green
soft grass  near a calm stream
hearing her flowing musics
and cried among the bird chirps
and watched for hours
ants toil

trying so hard
so hard
to recognize

As want
   Of greedy eyes
Turn bold
     In view
Of  pristine
      Mountaintops

In sights
    Of  female
tender folds
In supple Petals
    Of a rose

As breaths
     Of impassioned
Lovers sighs
      As love should
Be immortalized

'Tis there go
      You and I
As wild as tame
       As the lion
And lamb

Stronger deeper
      Every day
To heights
       Of ecstasy
To dream

The dreams
      No man
 Has ever dreamed
      Before

stark smiles
tall miles
token words

a genuine
moment missed
a pat on a son's head
a yes
you are beautiful
unsaid

A smirk a
deserted look
a lost remembering
a  promise missed
a lone day
you will regret

The kiss you remiss
a day you walked thru
dreamily
the son or daughter  
last love
who no
longer

remembers you.

Now,
you bark
growl
hiss.

to her, her I miss
full of her
I sit here without her

I feel her yet    
cannot hear or touch her
but

I know she wherever
whatever she does
she knows

and feels me
full as I do her
she is here

here in trances
she goes through, too,
we just are us, wherever

whatever us is,
we are, she means that such,
I am certain, i too
mean as much.

fire
the sounds of sirens cries
filling the valley with sighs

the mountains with a roar
on a walk through the forest the
woods  laugh with every step

in the dark with
nothing there but growth
all god's creatures

asleep , a step
a foot paw or human
approach

knowing you should
be afraid at attention
crane every hair up

on end to hear
your forefathers and mothers
or gaze

from a tall mountain
and listen to the
words spoken

in the breeze?

or themes were  them or I don't even remember
anymore the drunken high wavering feelings dizzying
exact places nor time,  of where I was on that date or whom I might
have said to a flirt or grabbed a thigh bravely or slapped a cushiony
cue ball banking the eight ball with skill winning
a hundred dollar bill buying the whole ******* bar a drink
and
a *******,
just know that was me when, then. I had less problems younger
stouter energetic time left on my tab,
a deadly eye a smirk of confidence, that youthly
obsession with being tough. I banked the eight ball last week while breaking and still am aching a week later. Now.

my hairline sweat and tears
mist from a shoreline,
paint down my wrinkles like waves cresting
a rocky beach,
my colors so dissolved, all my fleshy canvases
exposed to too much sun, my piercings all droopy,
teeth falling out. I need a hair cut a good dentist and Dr.
Phil. Or just strip down to my loincloth
go back to Rochester,
run with  wildness, as I did then
through brush and bathed in purple
abandonement, virile unabsorbed
lazing under the mulberry brush
the willows swaying down to touch my unscarred youngness,
with hope with hunger, then.

divided by classes the Knight first
then....the miller interrupts, telling his tale,
and the Virgilian concern of audience is suspended
wandering between the sects, crossing the dividing lines,
and the puzzle gets along quite really uniquely with the sides
not done before matching the middles,
and whether ***** or my lady is used as a nomenclature,
like pitee may mean one  thing to the wealthy aristocracy,
where it also refers to ****** *******, or "*******", and at times
the merchant or the lower class exhibit, depending on your mores,
more subtlety and class.
And I am am and was among the pardoners. And purchased absolution.
And who may hold me accountable , but history?

which why ways I turn I
thought of my mom and
our relationship,
saw me as her thirty years ago
I saw her become I
or me become her morphed
into what I disliked as a kid
was now me
the martyr
the saviour complex
the reasons I have stray cats dogs and people
depending on me,
and not one of them does anything for me, just asking
for more of
me.
Hi Mom!

no one to talk to, here,
in the middle of terse words and resentment,
for they should hear, and be heard,
once or twice or many voices calling from
alleys limbs concrete the hard parking lots
filled with Mercedes
and shiny wheels and 400 horses
power the wheel around again
from roads only walked
felt discovered in hard
journeys
in journals and scribbles ranted
from the tops of billboards
while people cars and cellular
things rush by fast
text this to the last person or dove
the last scion of human being
left in the pile of
white undying
petroleum
crud cups
from McDonald's as
the skinny fries sizzle

is wishing all little boys have shoes
     is that we sing everyday
the way we do today

My wish is if Jesus
       came today
he would be proud of me.

My Christmas wish
           is to end all misery,
is to be like him.

I strive, as we all do,
             to attain heaven on
Earth.

That does not ever
            mean it is
impossible.

time issues forth then blends us  into reminisces
resolves to tick and continue as spawn and fry
swim forth into a swarming mass of
death into an ocean bereft of feel
upon our dead bodies they feast.
A few returning, miraculously, upstream
to where they issued forth,
begin anew the circle,
regrowth and death so every day ticking.
Issuing forth our cells
to  feed natures
next beginning.

They are everywhere
Those ghosts the zephyrs
The battery of flashes
Those pauses in between breaths.

The spaces filled with memories
Pictures of time frozen for eternity
In my mind in my life
Signs that I have been

Existence as a conglomeration
As if a family album
Were spread before me
Time turning pages.

Frozen like a pond now
I kneel wiping snow
To view. Crystals cold float down
Upon this scene obscuring

Blurry times horizon.
There  go I
Just a pitiable  fool
On old knees through

The dreams  a page a
Time focusing trying to find
Some truth. And like
A miser keeping them

These visions happy or
Horrible sad or climactic
From falling off
Onto the icy pond

I'm kneeling on
Worshipping.

in the midst of real life we scream our most desperate
dreams and passions on white screens
with pens as instruments our symbolisms
remain and you and I
look for rhythm within
or ups and downs
and you and I
are lost between the dark and the mornings
like ships not knowing
where there is any port like the white between
      innocent lines
         of life
         is meant
fact
without an audience
we listen.

a ring of green magic
dazzlingly contrasting
the strawberry red beauty
opal eyed glory
automatically
famous to me where
drifts aromatically near
any sense to be
full ripened I wish
to devour her charmingly

oh you
the you shining brighter
then any sun
you must take this day
in memory
recall it
one day
long hence
for you have innocence
it is  not so bright
come September
unless on a
whim you can call it up
with that snap
of your fingers
red  paint lasts
what a day or two --
even the sky
ages into
horizons--
without
chipping?

when words have wonder seem to
glow like the dawn over a mountain
a soft hush lush forest growing slow
on the edge of the portrait
and a meadow calls to you
out of the corner of your remembrances
cautious you tread the
path  leading on to not misstep
go beyond the boundaries
of the essence
very soft shoe mocassin
crept
tiptoed holding breath
to see nature's beauty unfold
there right there before
you in all it's glorious
colors smells glory
what stories do you tell
your children young
the myths of a theocracy
or those of the mountain queens and forest kings
the wise brave animals

Upon a dale of dandelions
running his tongue 'tween stems and leaves
to pluck the carpel
tunnel
syndrome of nectar.
Pollinating without any bird
or bee
paying the slightest
attention.

tendrils reaching out for what seems too far to grasp the stars it seem are closer the moonbeams more
in tune than anyone living or known
a star burst raises the hair on my arm
more now than her kiss or touch
than I go off on that starlight
that glistens off some lake at night
far reach fetch I try to seek that
lost light I have lost

two
        hardlegs and two
                     babes
found
        raw eggs and ham
                       best
to add
      to frogs legs                    
                        yet
wound
       oddly up
*****
and hungry?

Naked and
          broke
               tweakin'

just as if you were alive
I get at times just like in real life inspired by
immortal words strung like pearls on your pages
just like life get ashamed at how your
vision your virginal good intent gets *****
torn apart by those who feel the need to fight
you just don't have the choice but to
reflect real life.

To a stuffed full of happy Thanksgiving!
I see a very very merry Christmas!
Coming!
With what I ate today,
If I could grow a long white beard,
get someone to sew me a red and white outfit,
paint RJ's nose red, superglue him some antlers,
find some elves- they are plentiful
down in the projects-
I will be the perfect Santa.
I promise to work for free.
And stuff your stockings
full, my Dear!

a was b cause c ause he d id e arned f irst g ave h is I d
j ust K arl L oved m any n ot o ne p er q uite r s ane t o
u ndo v ery w ell X poses Y z?

she is so cute and funny and resolute
I like her wrinkles her pooch
her smile her frown her absolute

Her mean look trying
to change my bad self
her scolding me

of how my hair is so wild
and I might have glanced
at that cute girl's ***

or how she likes green things
me, a bit more preference
towards

powdery substances
but then she
does seem to support

me mentally when
all the clouds blacken
the

worst **** falls down around me
how
I ask you

could she not be a saint?
How might I not love her
more

with every ******* day?

Such a dingy
     dusky night might be because
I seem ripe
     with a belly full of gas
can't help but belch
      and **** continuously
trying to write of love
       and stars.

So, please if you will excuse
         me, cause that was ripe and even
clouds my view, watery eyes i see
         bitterly smelling
anything but sweetness.


free thoughts on my day the universe
the guy with a sign on the corner a backpack  
his life on the side of a highway just wanting to go to
Dothan -his sign says

I turned the other way ,
I had my day all planned.
Two jobs to do make enough
dough for my weekend party.

I thought about him
for the next ten miles
heard his loneliness sing through
my tires

I turned around went back
glad I had found a care a heart
concern for someone other than I

And got back to that corner  
empty , it was. No man no sign no backpack no worldly belongings
alone on a corner of a highway in Alabama.

I rode my way back home. decided to take a day off
and think.

me, and all, covering up
the true essences
the real me, the real you,
the night's passionate
echoes the smell of Wisteria
left on sheets, there in the
soil, dark life giving moistness,
the furrows plowed,
the rows and rows tilled,
belongs me, belongs you,
emerging, sprouting,
beginning to love, and justness,
just as our roots push down, emerges,
from the loam, a new
song a, new me,
a new you.

from the top of my mullet mohawk
big head, poppin'
in and out of the nearest
******, no-stoppin'
me jack the hammer hittin'
once I got started
that day momma
spit my *** out:
collidin'
with my father
who may have been my brother
no tellin'
with every authority figure
who had the *****
to try and tell me what to do,
with the man arrestin'
handcuffed around foot and ankles
everyone who had no money,
never knowing the system
from my day of creation
society was rigged:
a bunch o'  twisted ***** *******'
leaning towards the rich *******
making the haves have more
the have-nots fightin'
for the scraps, no religion had
answers,
feelin'
just like a hungry dog
behind the locked barred
four-star restaurant doors,
so, takin' whatever I can
what is left  I guarded every scrap
like it was somethin'

trying to build tomorow out of yesterdays
misconceptions making yellow the sunrise
when black clouds are covering the window still
in  dark no shadows convey color is grey as
backs of a nickel plated worn
on the sidewalks crack
lack of light the glistening
side glance back
into the alley
she caught you in
molested you totally
ashamed to admit
you were so indefensibly
naive
slobbering at the
slightest smile
a tool my god
my *******
believed
and well
I think back would
the last three years
without
the veil before my eyes  in the sun
seeing it all
would they if  not for her
been
as good
I  forget
try to forgive

the feel of stepping on ants in-considering
it feels good, to go about our way
numb and inconsiderate

squeals of pigs cut their running
around after with a purple sack
makes for good pork chops

the chicken head on the ground
while its owner runs around a minute
makes yum good

a hook in the mouth momma
bass fighting for her life
it's all mystical

the calf's neck cut blood squirting out
makes veal; the lamb squealing
a nice cutlet

It is hard to be vegan with
all this ****** need in
me, hard to understand

how nature is mean,
how ISIS or Al Qaeda
sees any difference

I might , now that I think
of it all , visited a slaughter
house, saw all the

blood; thought of people
treated like animals,
from now on,

just starve myself

all I can do is weigh all the available inputs
on a scale of
hell i forgot to knock the **** off
and that white powder
it throws off any judgements

I must say that life is good as it drains away
took me a while
to fully realize her beauty in her pain
her smile in all her cries
the softness in the hard refrains
all the good in the days
i saw as wasted
time
life plays no games
it comes around
and slaps you in the face
sometimes
wakes you from
that dream
you sleep
within
gets lost in
awake and dreams  but
the real thing
you'll see too
one day
then realize
how much you've
saw
and seen

punctuated
   with tears
smiles as apostrophes
  time .......
as ellipsis ......
commas  a breath

misty hazed
wakes the sleepy
eyelids closed
you and I sleep...
and you and I are deep.

developing contrapuntal visions
as the wake
we ride, anon,
sounds deep;
ebbs successively;
wounded echoes repeat: guides
ethereal choices
in three separate sections note

whence we awaken,
the tides in gone
the short main theme
the exposition, completes itself. As the
moon goes around again.
now, we are as one.

fear,
   woe my depressions, woe are the scary thoughts in my
dark. Alive are the witches, the goblins the eyes
of Satan. I sleep warily, tossing,
visions between reality and fantasy, never
dropping.
Then and now I writhe
caught in thorn laden forests,
between trees that reach down shapes
of dark and clowns.
I sit directly within the growing
gloom and call them,
now to bring it on.
bring it on.

to fully grasp your smile
to hold your hand or grab your ***
or open a door for you with words printed only

I only type letters arranged to make shorter
the distance between two blooms reaching
for heaven

I cannot from here hear your breath,
nor lay my ear upon your papers
your message comes

full of promises of spring the rebirth of hope
it is in my head , the high notes
the lovebirds whispers

from here , i here typing
the shy tapping of the red headed woodpecker
or perhaps a thrush

busy putting small pieces of paper
with words wrote
tapping into a nest

where future is the tenderness
of reality making
the best of words

actually touching, with eyes
heart tips fingers
touching skin or feather

not a keyboard

the saying quaint is memory
I am surprised i remembered it
six almost long decades
since I tried to tell myself to never forget
how the  day is wonderfilled
we have sandboxes
beloved pets
steel toy cars and backyards
we explore like jungles
swings and naps
when life gets tiresome
amongst the sunrises and hours spent
getting acquainted
to this life
a sister who is nice
at times
and moms and dads
peaches and
cream
longings to grow up and see
everything
sidewalks leading to
we do not know where
just dream
they have sights unseen
deep down in the
grey of now the
hard to read story of those years
all are written down
archived
like bubblegum on a bedpost
sweetness of that first kiss
that recall
of  days
that are so malleable
just don't forget
or get all old

***
I never thought of  
of status quo

I just went
crashing
against the walls

logical had
nothing to do with me
it was for real

abstinence
of every rule
out of eyesight

I caught afire
drew the fire on
drew me amidst

a flame
and went
completely

******* mad
like Syd did
sang on

shined as
long as I could

the ****** to wrinkles
was light fast
from peach fuzz to long hair and bell bottoms
to disco slow  so painful from
Air Force discipline to self employed
along the way unemployed a lot
from the Beatles and Stones
hell I'll never outgrow them.

How well it seems
I get to know your scenes
in the tug of nights darkness
in the realms of touch

blind innocent still
along the edges of
shadows still peeked
and viewed of both sides
now and wondered aloud musical
how I might find
the right touch the soul
the very nature of calm
I have searched for
so long

and on that edge, I pose
balancing hope
and juggling desires
a heartfire
and a cold ice juggernaut
fiercely holding
hope's eternal flame
in hands of clay
of mind's worthless
qualms

worry no more my fruitless
search has ended
along the edge I
fell headfirst in;
in love in peace into eternity;
into a vast new you and me.
Into love forever....
I stake my claim.

I walk no more alone,
eternally.

the panther eats a poor bunny,
the panther gets sat on a by a hippo
the hippo swallows a tortoise and chokes
the vulture gets fed

the tress grow and the grass grows and eggs hatch and get ate by tortoises

which the panther loves and the hippo tromps on
and still
the vultures feast

which fertilizes the grasses the trees
which makes them grow and the tortoises
fall in love a nd **** and climb onto beaches
hatch thousands of eggs that the panther eats and the hippo
wallowing blindly fat through the fertilized long grass munching
steps on the panther again
then breaks her leg in the muck and dies
again the vultures
feast.


and the smart bunny, who noticed, had run away to the country
where Brer Rabbit had founded a commune for poor about to be eaten Rabbits. There they raised together carrots in a field in a country where there were no panthers tortoises or hippos.
Only to find this place had foxes who feasted on well fed rabbits.
And the Fox found there were quick bears who loved a nibble of fox. And men, great men with guns that could take down many number of bears in one day. And the vultures feasted.

is made of sweetness and honey so complete
I could never again survive alone. Four eyes see through clouds
more better than one who  is blind already
             Arms and legs and warm flesh are better 'n
any pillow or barbie
           MY blow up doll has a leak, anyways.

Seeking distraction from
        dissatisfaction I peek through
the cloven leaves aside the creek
        deep in the woods with my best
dearest friend, Chartreusse.

We climb trees together
          play with coyotes
run together pet the
          squirrels hold birds
in our gentle hands.

We eat on Nature's rewards
           fall in love easily
with each other
          the creek and the woods.
We move together.

Playfully we parlayed a creek
         the sun, and the woods
the wild dearness of hearts together
          woven in dreams.

I remember
           forever.
Chartreusse.

The first seed
contains all potentially
personality
powerful feelings
exploding
big bangs
a universe newly created
expanding
silent cadences
for who can hear
dashes and dots
arranged to spell the moon
an echo infinite
into four dimensions
grows
one thought
one seed

My three daughters and I
Spot, Blue and sweet Timex,
live within the walls
of this Verona like  apartment,
Missy, the Black Lab who played nursemaid
to these three I believe, aided and abetted
sweet Timex's foray.
I, a Capulet, truly love my daughters
but easily fly into rages,
wishing a fair and providing man for them,
not the hell of the Montague clan,
namely bighead. Bighead roams the streets the alleys the back woods
no earnings or propriety,
no means to his unmatted fur,
his wild houls in the night, testament.
The nurse then, on a late night, asked to go out.
I tired, got complacent and out timex flied!
She returned a week later,
not the young kitten, playful,
but a Cat, with hunger in her eyes.
Spot and Blue, still are eager to discover the outsides,
Probably filled in on all that is there,
by Timex. And she no longer plays.
She even meows different now,
seems to meow
O Bighead, wherefore art thou Bighead!

Brianna Love in Minnesota and I in Alabama wish to announce and share with all a new addition to our family.
So far one beautiful kitten has been born to babygirl, Brianna's cat, who for eight years lived in the wild. Last year when  temperatures reached 30 below zero babygirl decided to adopt Brianna and move inside. Today she is gifting us with beautiful babes!  Hope this link below shows off our newest pride and joy!

a girl  named ANNABEL LEE instead,
but
      seldom marches in a storm like
Petunia, and Rose, and Lily did,
       Goodbye
to Beverly, to Virginia, to Lucy
       to anyone not named Petunia,
who just wallowed in to my garden of Eden
                 and plopped right down,
midst the May-dew , blown on a warm wind ,
            before the rains set in,
and made her self so     comfortable.

if wish merged with might
grew a tail and string was strung
from when i was thirteen
on a green grass field to now
in the air so high above
would swoosh
my kite
all the birds would be flying
below.

if when comes a day the sunset does not amaze me:
     or my nose does not sneeze at the breeze on the shores
a wave splashing, I turn my back to, or
         any dog unfed goes by my house without a bone:
or a willow finds no one hearing her cries;
           a sparrow flies to alight on a limb
and I take no mental picture of.
            Or I forget to tend my yellow roses, and they become all thorns.
Or I don't get high when the bee or hummingbird buzzes,
      or when I sleep long and miss,
the mystic mountain as it grows out of darkness
       at sunrise.
**** me quick, if I for a second quit believing that life is meaningful.