that is the one I love the most
I said as she walked away
far away, she gained distance and I thought
it was all so ******* bleak
then saw her
and her sway
her smile
her new day
to save me
her *** was incredible
her ******* the perfect upturned shape,
I even almost loved her,
but she had tastes and habits
slurping her cereal in the morning
grated on my nerves
and her bras and ******* all hanging in
from every god ****** thing,
she got tired of my sinus sounds
how I was continuously clearing my throat,
money became an issue ,
I wanted my beer and cigarettes
and her, she wanted leafy vegetables
and hummus?  Fun while it lasted,
but I felt terrible when her new dude came and
got her. Until twenty more like her
had come and gone.
And I decided to try to love myself.
I quit all the *******,
the feeling sorry
the lonely nights and
saw I was good.

I think I know so many people so beautiful
once i gained a bit of notoriety and all I could
think was how nice sweet all these strangers are
when i don't know them at all
but for their words
sweet
and comments nice
when I go to their profiles
I like to read their statements more than their poems
things like
trying to be a  poet
or tired and dried out
I search for depth and abstracts
few say I am writer
one said save a life
I especially liked one who wrote
Just writing what I think, what I feel and everything in between.
and that said much but
I feel a kinship
a closeness
with those I never met in person
I suppose
you do too/

it is my dream to call the eagles down
with a word
to say how crystal is the river
like a diamond shimmers
in the sun
feel deeper the most tall
hills
take a flower into imagination
and taste it
shake the earth like
I am its creator
make  a psalm
a tribute
to every bit of beauty
her smile
a forest
the forest
her green eyes
her eyes reflecting
a blue sky
her  depth
her magnitude her love
the oceans

Ole McKarl had a farm
Eieio
And on that farm he had
Missy
Eieio
With a cat cat here
And a cat cat there
Here a cat
There a cat
Everywhere a cat cat
Eieio
Ole McKarl had a farm
Eieio
And on that farm he got Daisy
Eieio
With a woof woof here
And a woof woof there
Here a woof there a woof
Everywhere a
Woof woof
Ole McKarl had a farm
Eieio
And on that farm he
Fell in love
Eieio
With a DiAnne here
And with DiAnne there
Eieio
Old McKarl had a farm
Eieio.
And on that farm all his beloved Eieio.
Were gathered round his feet and arms
eieio.
They gave him love and warmed his heart
Eieio
Ole McKarl had a farm
Eieio
And on this farm he
Gave his heart
Eieio
With a kiss from DiAnne
Here and a kiss kiss
There
Here a kiss there a
Kiss
All the animals
Watching this.
EIEIOOOOOOOOOO!

we really know most all, more than we
ever can vocalize or reason out loud,
never realizing it's implicit value,
though we poeticize paint sketch and anticipate
one day being able to,
like driving a car down the interstate
to who knows where it ends up

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.

it's secret
the place we get
our inspiration
it takes sacrifice
suffering
a whole lot of meditations
it takes thinking alone
feeling the whole world
being
your own soulmate
losing things
being alone
having patience
being sacrilegious
questioning
accepting
reading and sacrificing
sanity
being unafraid
being afraid too
it , this takes
a gentle wind
blown
from the mountain tops
that makes you
want to describe it's taste
it's feeling
it takes an appreciation
of  color
brown green
olive
on your
mortal soul

if,
could I love
          you more,
were possible....
would gravity survive?

or may the
earth dissolve, break into pieces,
in tremors
of a love so deep?

Or, may heaven part, angels sing so loud in
honors, god give a new Eden,
to us?

Delilah!

And a shave,
     because I am overgrown
with hair and testosterone,
           clip me where I may deflate
in ego and ride me with estrogen
    until I say Aunt,
cause my Uncle is gone
        I remembered.
He ran away, never to be seen again
           for my Aunt was a *****.

Food.
Beer.
*******.
Cheer.
Pie,
Thighs.
Oxygen.
Yesterday.
Today.
Tomorrow!

Drape the corner
   you no longer come close to
weave a memorial
  to our grandmothers
out of your way
   I toil
subsist on carcasses
     play my eight legs
like a trapeze artist
      feeling every twitch
in the corner
    where you no
longer play.

There was a  tower, cellular,  and a flea market but no Louvre,
people spoke in accent, the cuisine was Haute- collards
and black-eyed peas-  the cathedral was named
First Baptist Church, that day I was not in Paris.

Still, I felt like I had several attractions to tour.
The river , not grand as the Seine,
that is more a trickle has been rumored to hold fish.
That day I saw a troubador, that day I was not in Paris.

A man with a bicycle and a six string guitar, rested in the Church
parking lot, played and sung a song for an hour. He left pushing his
bike his guitar again on his back, going I presume
to someplace not Paris.

That day I saw an old woman go into Dollar General, she didn't come out for three hours. But, when she did she had two packages she carefully loaded into the trunk of her Lincoln. I imagined she purchased the latest fashion to parade that night down at the corner saloon. That was a day I was not in Paris.

I did not miss Paris. I missed nothing. I had a sunny day, and fresh air,
and a vision of not Paris, that day.

then there was
      all the life sounds the babbling
             brooks
winds in tall
          trees on the
             mountaintops
calms of the
            puffiest white clouds draping
                  my head
roars of wildness in the
             distance proclaiming
                    our freedom
a softness in the air
               her pretty voice
                    saying Hi There
nature is just that surprising
            so out of nowhere
                     comes surprising
vistas of horizons fair eyed
             wild animals close
                      trouts jumping
to say I am here

and natures'
             most beautiful creature
                      woman

saying out of her upturned mouth
           I love
                 you.

Surpasses all of our
             human systems
                  rewards.

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.

writing
       ambiguously
tipping
        the scales over
         massacring
English?

finishing
       by polishing
it all by hacking
      to pieces with
a dull hatchet?

forcing nouns
        into untenable
situations,
       firing up verbs
smoking them
        in signals

sent from my tribe's
      only remaining
peace pipe
         choking on all the ashes
absurdly scraped up
            from the dirt floor
of my tee-***?
      
Or is it
me?

jagged
words the rooster crows
wake up to lights from
coffin sleep
sudden scream
my pen guaranteed that
no one would escape
no poem
no breath
no sterling
deed
no human  bone remains
only
what was
meant .

beauty this vision a blessed
blossom on a wispy stem
swaying
glows in the dawn glares in the dusk,
beauty is blindness,
love is mortal,
I lust
for beauty and
blessed
ephemeral
meaning.

by
us.

as one
a play between
a man and a woman
fantasies of a man in jail
and the woman who released him
so let us go for a five mile walk and imagine
hold a pulse in our hands
while we listen to
"All my lovin"
to remember he said
'don't ever take one day for granted"

I sit on this comfortable branch
I have worn grooves into the bark
with talons grasp I have weathered many storms.

There was then a wind blowing in January
that made the limb sway and I worriedly cooed,
I was so sure this storm would pass on, as all the others had,

I loved the home, I perched on;
felt as safe as in a nest,
the winds of change blew;

and I found I must fly again
into the cold winds of change,
I soar again.

One circle returning a spiral
No beginning or end
The origin is forgotten
The end is to come
Unending unknown
The cycle spins in orbit
A known side and a dark
a duality is studied
But like quantum  physics
Is just a theory
And great minds
Get dizzy

conceptualize if you can
spirits and ghosts
Afterlife and life's beginnings
Your own end And
grieve while you live
Make habits and poems
Rhyme while you're  capable
Of watching
Sunsets

Make haste when you are hurried
Make love when you're  worried
Make songs to be sung
And diagnose the worlds wrongs
But make something round
A mouth puckered up
A ball bouncing over
The world spinning round

And you will realize that sides mundane conceptions
We live uneventful Like days
will always go on
The last thing we should study
more the right than the wrong
we should play ball more
life and a metaphor

Its all coming round

in the shade here in southeast Alabama haze
even the red clay melts under your feet,
why we don't wander 'round,
it's quite the same  year after year,
but no one gets used to it all, ever.

The  kittens corn cotton peanuts all seeking a semblance of
shade under old rusty cars or tractors or steel
silos, our skyscrapers here in the wiregrass.

Everyone, scantilly clad as possible, girls in shorts and bras dudes all sweaty bare chests, the corn baking in the heat the cotton awaiting a cooler day to burst out, peanuts hiding underground.

The roads asphalt melting and look far away you see the heat waves
dancing to the sun upon a grey distance, which no one here ever gets to meet, or go to the dance or even approach.

The future is encroaching here though. Most all of us seek cool in what the big cities do. And end up in an air conditioned cell.
addicted to cool.
Or, just something to do?

Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying

As pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool's gold mouthpiece the hollow horn
Plays wasted words, proves to warn
That he not busy being born is busy dying

Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover that you'd just be one more
Person crying

So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing

As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Make everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much is really sacred

While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have to stand naked

An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you've got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it

Advertising signs they con
You into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you

You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks they really found you

A question in your eyes is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit
To satisfy, insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not forget
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to

Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to

For them that must bow down to authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something they invest in

While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him

While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in

But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone living in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him

Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in ***, they dare
To tell fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony

While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes must get lonely

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed
Graveyards, false goals (gods), I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough, what else can you show me?

And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only"

gets used to trying to nurse a barstool
that' s what we do in these parts
and chaw 'baccy and spit let loose
epitaphs and curse a bit
down here 'round Clayhatchee.

Yet most of us gooden's ya' may say
'cept 'n Joe Bob and his two brothers
both named Billy. ' course Mary Jane
her problem an' all,  see , wasn't her fault, really

she got turned out young and had to make the
groceries, when she was thirteen. Now, we laugh, but
don't really, well a little, when Ole' Ethel , the snaggle toothed
hag says she , Mary Jane , has a mattress strapped to her back.

It's right tough near 'bouts year round here, and
we laugh when we can . No bad spirits we wish any
ole' soul, least wise Mary Jane.

'cause what trouble and shenanigans
would Joe Bob and his two brothers cause
if Mary Jane weren't 'round?

most of our souls in cool slitted jeans
watch the crowds fall into
the happenings, privately talk to our
consciences mistake breathing for living

connect by wireless texts play the latest video
when walking past real people
who if we looked up may be the hello
we need.

See a screen of life continuously bufferring
awaiting for it to say   start.

High high we type complain,
of some troll when
all our being is being
a

bit or byte
a hexadecimal encoded
in
a screen, one coded
wrongly.

One cloud away
from
reality.

you know how after gesso-ing the canvas
you sit back,
take the largest brush you have
add some titanium white with the darkest blue
you can find
and attack that woven weave wanting to
make almost love to it
temper it with color
not knowing what result you are after
I do.
Then you see light spots shadows clouds
trees and fields ponds appear
a few geese white flying
just with a slight addition here and there
trees seem to believe they are real
shadows grow all from one tangent knowing
how that is real
when what you want
need to paint is more surreal.
And the perspective all the sudden changes
into third worlds
reality
I do.
I do know the almost uncontrollable urges of creativity.
I know the best selling colors.
I just faint to use them.
I get all wild.

is there a condition
where one can overdose on empathy
on caring
until tears become a malady

Until others hearts
are nearly more important
than ours
and we **** up our life

is that or
could it be an addiction
to seek maybe sad things
and others pain

subconsciously
trying to alleviate
our own?

I am wondering
if I need an intervention.

to all my titos come of age
you speak words I understand
stand at the door wanting out
howl at every moon
need
to recreate
I get that
but I'll be **** you
may pull the blinds down
climb up to the top of the window
look out
at bighead
or whatever feline stud
is out there
arch those backs when I pet you,
it aint happening,
girls

stands its season
ripe
as the depictions painted
outlive nature's generosity
tend as lovers do
to forget
their fragility
handling flesh like swords
conquering the earth with passion's
brevity
just as the reaper swipes
his scythe ruthlessly
and the chaff
falls like fallen soldiers do
into dirt
as we all do

A requiem symphonic-
   a tribute to a dead one,
robust, orchestrated sympathetic my
   ear heard, in string and choir,
blesses the true listener, the poet.
   "Lord have mercy, on us....
the trumpet will send
    its wondrous sound
throughout earth's sepulchers"-
   I desire to mourn in such beauty.
Raise my tremors
     to the heights,
with deepest regards,
    Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart!

come crashing down
through darkness
into sight
a permanent marker
sharpie stuck in your eye
black all you see
negatives hung on the walls
charcoal reliefs
of those you knew
paragraphs of sadness
posted to your wall in pencil
on sheets of paper

ashtrays filled with ashes
trash cans with beer cans
and the day begins
thinking of when it will end
making breath and striving
just to make it
until
you see the moon beckons again

A charcoal black butterfly
with tiny bits of lavender
trim and through my twill
and fibers
I believed myself beautiful
and flew higher
with growing speed
and lengthening wing.
Someone told me
you're wrong, you're a moth,
as if it was an insult.
My wings vertical up
in the sun I fly
bulbous topped antennae
and why
I'd be called a moth,
I mean, nocturnal I find divine,
and in my tiny flying mind
knowing there are more moths
than butterflies
sensed belonging along a greater swath.
Away from my predator I flew
gracefully buoyantly
in an even better mood
saying in my tiny flying mind
... thank you.

Can't never wash it off
        never hide my slanguage
what with this drawl
        some babys likes
the way I slur it out
        trace me as I walk
their purry eyes burnin'
        call me all kind 'a names
alone in the dark
        reverently remember
my  sly deliveries
        the next day
walk all sideways eee
         just white
trash from Alabam' eee.

under a well-
   contented sky of blue lashes
dreamy
I felt so fortunate, so, full
   to be granted the
opportunity
     to behold the beauty of all this
virtue,
so,
I felt a Goddess, had thought of me
reserved,
this place for me, to see,
so,
I bowed down,
and gave thanks,
clapped
earnestly,
cried
reproducing the
roar of thunder.
I cry out
un- ending
Joy.

all twisting around corners
dirt paved and bumpy
around snaking corners
turning which way and that
and to believe hopefully
it will straighten and get smooth
is like hoping the moon rises at dawn and the
dark is light
but, if you are like me
you like country roads
and bumps and
a different path from others
the long way around is most
often the hard way and the most
profound.

Mr. robert,
    amongst those trees
on that snowy eve,
   above that frozen lake,
in timber as cover
         pine straw my relief,
My horse, a bike,
       a horse I wish for,
My wheels speak
        of just miles
left before,
          I sleep.
Amid the bed of pine
   my eyes weary.

childhood happy
our loving parents'  arms provided
safe and sound
when we  were sprouts undivided
from them
all needs-wants at our beckon call
to recall
is a blessing from life and all
the years
that have passed and disappeared
cannot
won't remove those times
for me

White **** touches my contrail
all the way to the toes
up and down my head
over above
a cotton underside
when I fly too high
my heart flutters the g-force wind
expectation blows
round a corner but all I see is a rock facade

on my back a weight to hold me down
social decay or what might have been
memory,
why?

do we fall farther the
higher we fly?

how deranged , can
I do letters , arrange
verbs
displayed black on white
noun verbally
portray points
of my brain taking in
electrical impulse
pulses painting reality,
neurologically composed symphonies
I give in to it.

atop the glistened mirror top
where the sky projects on this mirrored  surface
clouds and limitless
floats a small girl almost flower like
lotus pearl white arms pirouette
a flowered world on a
polished pond a vision
of graphene serenity
stronger than anything
like looking at melting suns
starbursts and signatures
of Greek gods acclaim
la fleur so small
grandiose
beauty stemmed
perfectionist
floating proud
independent
an image
glowing
sincere
just there

eighth
month halo
of heat searing seeming
like it will never cease burning sun
riveting my sweat dripping to my forehead
delicious
devious
out of
the
shadows
burning!!

it is much more than a mystery or drama
how we seem to always meet between dawn and noon
here on the white paper plains

it is more than my dreams and yours how you look
so much like Godiva to me
to you I
may be Rasputin

for I fairly wonder how you look clothed
and not giving your deepest thoughts
to anyone meandering by.

I must seem like the Hunchback in a
cathedral to you. Brash hunched words
loud and medieval.

Or a King with no castle, nor clothes.
No diamonds to hang on your pretty head.
No knight to protect you.

But, we still meet here, by fate or design,
and so in chance not to break the spell,
and tomorrow you might not be here,

I will just go on.

when in time I go
unwarily
I wish to only
remember
the glint I saw
oh a merry day
looking back at me
from the daydream eyes
tender breast
I dream
upon
as
the
world
spins
dizzy

reading someone , is intimate
her words are her heart
I try to take that in account.

If I were  painted a long time ago
in say Renaissance times, two dimensions,
I might be a saint-
or a revolutionary-
I was stroked
of harsh defiant bold colors
when portraits were cast in canvas
bronze overtones of gesso and black only
washes of contrast
the tone built up
with layers of translucence
and bone colored washes
and hung on a wall and try though I might
the egg tempera
earth tones deeper than
olive oil on a live model
wore off
and  the canvas warped
the wood grew skewed
and the museum had me
cremated
along side
a dog and scattered in the
woods
just as I had hoped

you sent a message to me then disappeared into the vaguest distance
I sat scratching my newly found bald spot because it itched, then
All my hair came down into my eyes, thought I might need a trim
but my head glistened shimmering in the moonlight standing
looking over a hill for you, to appear. My shoulders covered
with fragments of black hair once there, on my skull cap
now laying all over my keyboard, making a nice tapestry
of black on black, ASCII

is your hair
fair is not nature
she in her nebulous
taking
   in food
    for
       hungry
          animals
kills

you in your beauty too,
  shaking
       no your head
           no you
              said

breaks
into Mother Natures cruelty
her war chest of pain and suffering

bumblebee sting

deep inside
where butterflies
                wither
                          die
                               float to
                                     brown

dirt.

silently......
she turns
the darkest night
into a
cloudless day

quiet into a
parade
and seconds..... into the hours
I wait

'til.... I bathe in her breathlessness

can you believe the sand is so warm
so gritty beneath our toes
and
holds us up?
It's like concrete with
feeling, so far away from
the suburbs type
walkways streets paved everything,
It gives a little
shifts when your weight
goes from foot to foot,
striding , leaves a trace
unseen walking down
same home after home suburbs
streets the same subdivided parts of
living, plots lain out like
cemetaries do,
only missing the headstones,
facing east.
I get hot walking but
enjoy the beach.

run for President
of the United States,
But,
Trump has me beat
for being
an *******.

My peasant like oratory
my non- elloquence
my lack of sense
or expanse of non(sense)
can easily be explained
if but given the chance
a second to explain.
A long time ago
in a land far away
with flowers and
Dylan and Far Out
  substances
like, it was cool
   and so groovy,
free love and food
   it all was a changin'
rainbows , VW's all were colored,
   the only colors we seen,
Mlk, Jfk, gave
   their  life as I woulda
but was too young
so flashback
with me?