I was listening to Santana
at Woodstock playing Soul Sacrifice
you know the
young drummer and Carlos so bangin' it
and this **** assed kitten climbed in my lap
watched intently
like he knew this was so good
he watched every second
waved his tail in rhythm
with Carlos and his band.
I liked this cat before
but now I love him.

glowing, a dream
    of surreal heartbeats
incandescent omniscient eyes
    knowing it seems
what I am about to think
    hope is more fearing of
daylight as I long more
    with each night, every dream
hear the ghostly footsteps
    nearer when I wake,
then in any nightmare.

There the similarities of alive
     with death outpace
the differences, dreams knit
      more peace , hope than
awakening thought, they twine from the same ball
      unrolling vice versa

the fog gets a brighter green a glow
   days get so long and gray
and dreams tomorrow
     I may stay in.

vesparations
a word I just created
seems to be in desperation
not finding a synonym
in my google thesaurus so I invented
it
a combinating  psuedonym
a conjagulations freebiddanence
a twelve lettered
sort of word
that suits my aim right now
to a tee
or is that t?
or tea?
**** inventing words
is frustrating...

sing sad thoughts
cry  cry
in soprano voice
loves lost

love passed by
breath shared with
ephemerality

looking back while
across the aisle in the grocery
awaits next to the lettuce

your next

conquest

I bet the sun comes up
take the points and scatter
doomsayers
it's been eons since
light years
and it goes on
coming up
every morn'
no matter
prophecies
of false prophets
predicting
us
to
predict
it always will
at least for
a few more
of my
eternities

elegant
you can hear the fingers slide over the cello
strings
low
deeper than any river
appears
in the rhythm
a riverboat and the slapping
of water like skin
as a bobber rows along
the current tame and mellow

philosopher
poet  necromancer
I be

always something
on my mind
rest

is something I get
passing out
the best of me

is left in my dreams

What way is the way
                 to go?
Thinking about death
                 morose ?
Or is it prescience
                planning?
To die how and why?

What improbable event
                 possible(Eventual)
can call my undertaking
                 this event,
Fire , gunshot, heart
                 attack!
C ** king uh on *****
                 *****
regurgitates into  my esoph-
                  agus.
Whilst a nightmare turns into re-
                  al(ity+)        
Not one to shudder
                  i stroke
(genius) all of us to our dest-
                  iny.

in the meadow of my yard amidst the accepted growths
, those green grasses loved to look upon by the majority
, grow so often a dandelion, or chickweed down here wiregrass
is common, so common the region is named after ,
so why not have a lawn of dandelions with wiregrass trimmings
and chickweed appointed almost like nature might?
and on the hedges a soft painted turtle crafted sculpture
and near the lane wild ginseng and raspberries
along the walk junipers and brambles to  make it
intriguing. Might even make a bed of wild Irish roses
for me to make it appealing to the judges.

16
x17

                          =400days and $5million
plus
 One indictictment?

we are killing ourselves

the safe feeling
I can be me with you
naked as my birthday
with my smile wide as
you accept me
truthfully honest
eat crackers with the wine
take you in my arms confident
I do please you,
it shows in how we
can be silent for hours
how we just need ourselves
as we are
how the clock is unplugged
no where else to get to
no blushing
just the rush of when you reach out to me
the hairs on my arm stand up
just like the day
I met you

Riding past this house on the left
on County Rd. 109,
Pops, my best friend, ( I will introduce you (later in this series)),
tells me about this woman who lived there. Every time we go by.
I guess we went by there at least ten times last  week.
The way he tells the story , (1000 times now),
she had this pit bull, trained for her protection.
He said she bragged how, on her command,  her dog would ****.
I guess that made her feel protected.
Then one night, as he tells it, she walked by his (the pit bull's) food dish.
He ate her.

priest nor sinner
just me alone on this stool,

24 oz of drool left
one pen and a full
notebook.

scribbled full by nicotine
stained fingertips
digging through an ashtray
for one last ****.

three days of ***** dishes
awaiting my attention,
(i have more spoons, so)
I peer into this CRT
looking back at me
with only one page
remaining, available, left,
to explain to the world,
how I felt.

my head the tinkling remembrances of sparkling suns
and innocence , of Silver Lake , and stepping
on a Blue Racer as I ran back up to the cabin,
shocking, yet part of the days, nights, things,
all the rowboats the roped off float swimming area,
being attacked by a snapping turtle,
the small nest up the hill of trees
where mom discovered the
nest of tiny rattlesnakes, bad dreams I had one night
listening to the radio and the stories of a big hairy creature ,
surviving it, getting stronger, no longer a tiny
creature of the concrete subdivision,
where trees were rare and creatures were real,
the bus route down at the corner.
April was , there.

I fell in the stream once
Walking along its banks
My brother hanging from
A branch
Reached down and saved
Me from drowning

I fell from a branch of a tall
Oak once
On my head my lungs
Emptied

I stepped on a snake in
The forest barefoot
I and it went separate ways
Fast

I kissed a girl
Touched her rigid *******
Felt her receptiveness
But we parted

I've walked mountain tops
Camped in valleys
Slept in haylofts
In castle towers

Been seen in bars in
Parlors of sin
In druglords
Dreams

I've ridden horses
And been thrown
I've conquered
And been overthrown

But come the morning
Some day soon
The world will
Know me as it should

I shall rise from decadence
My head above
The rest my crown
Shall be

But Brown
Leaves and pieces
Of grass
And smallest

Treasures of this world
Will be golden
When I reach
This epitome

And peace will rule
And love resound
And people
Hold hands

The world
Around.

Then
I will smile.

from a misty hillside shines a lonely widow's
light
a faint glow from a mended oil lamp
looking over a devastated countryside
  in her hand the lamp and a clump of black charcoal
now all she has except her old father
   and the scene like an island plucked from the sea
and set right into world war three,
          the faint light leads her and her father
and the lamp and chunk of coal and their hope
   to their rustic home, where necessities are luxury.
Once when, they walked many miles to visit a mosque
  the bombings halted and the clouds parted for one second,
and the sunshine clearly shone them kneeling and peace was heard.

being older just
I know more dead people
now

Amazing, this thing, time, it goes on whether you're here, or not, and to come back and see the irrelevance of all, is somehow calming.
Adaptive, time and life, it lives when we die. To observe from a distance, has, in a word, been relieving.
I carried my importance as a trait.
What a weight it is. Its good to know, no matter my place, I have one.
Very calm

a footstomp, a thump
on the bible, bottom of the bass
all tremor

clap hands, Amen,
clash of a cymbal
resound

a tuned human, a reverential
soul, a woman ladling at
a soup kitchen

all sing  the righteous
virtue, the treble high points
of a concerto

bring home the orchestra,
add trombones low mid
and feminine flutes

manly deep rumblings
pacing, back and forth
as the hungry tap

a toe whistle for their
needs, honor humbled
as they beg for more

recall that sunny summer day honey
in the fields of straw and bees
busy so flitting and turning our ways touching
as the flowers did invite the nectars to be drank
like two hummingbirds we sang to
Van Morrison
then blushed under that willow tree
her limbs like a silken veil
on a bed in a palace made by God for
two souls flying performing
under a blue sky of August
in a field of golden reeds and dreams
a sweet nectar knows her destination
and we  knew instincts love
and nature
it was worth remembering
(even if it never happened)

The whippoorwhil
endlessly chants her rhythm:
into boughs of leaves  
making the pecan trees sway,
begins the dancing-
on the wind:
playing a faint flute,
clapping doves, sit and watch and coo,
all this gaiety to do:
this wind song is beautiful,
I think of you.

amongst the landscapes
scripted virtually perfect turtles
amongst there perfect
words the paintings    

of the new found genius,
there , the next prophet Queen,
evergreen always will be,
lasting words , memories
stand above,

be remembered in centuries
from now my dear. Your, you
...your eminence
your perfect rhyme flow,

perfect, is the day,
tomorrow will portray, the
blessed words written, by my Queen.
glow, eternally.

sat down on the couch after
feeding the kits some bits
didn't know
they were addicted to it
they turned the house over
pecking for more
until they found the box
of Friskies Variety
with glazed eyed feasted  partied
meowed and purred
when I took it away they
big eyed slurred mmmen wow
and ganged up
on me
with such sorry big eyed looks
I said here
emptied the box
on the counter
been there done that
I said

I am setting up an adjunct me
to dress me up a little
a bit more polished
a little more free

he , my sidekick, will
be less needy but
have a heart of gold still
and give all he can
to others

this one I set aside to
be the one I wished I were
will fault himself less
and be more mature

his will will bend
if needed
his self worth
will never depend
on others

his heart will be  mine
his head the same
if but a bit more
shiny
and
sane

and the maple trees  get blighted
the woodwind has stopped
the coral vanished
tides rising
along each coast
winter a memory
polar bears ride ice flows
trying to go somewhere
colder
an electorate getting ******
on bare eductional opportunities
in our land of
falling for a tv president
selling propaganda and lies as
promises
we have no one left to blame
time to look inside
make a plan
watch the sky for mushrooms
the courts for help
and then you lost someone yourself
when she gave out her last breath
that someone only her
you could debate with on all that
you sat muddled in the
melting ice numbed
and cold
tapping that last maple tree with your hand
under an elect trump sign
as the banks came and foreclosed
Walls treat fell like a pine bitten by a hot blast
of lightning  Russia came
all other's kept out
oil flowed it's a business
you knew that
life is
you took economics 101\
it's just so soon before I had prepared
now I pay
i do for
all the
partying
it does get
too late

I cry tears salient
I shy
hold my tongue remembering

tossed cross the ambience
wry
wrongly severe things

my family who supposedly
loved
me and them

talked so severely to
each other
it just rubs me

raw and open wounded
to this day
I get

nothing from it

is just is us is in it
justice to each other is there
lettuce if we change the letters a tad
it's there
carrying you to bed after you fall asleep on my
shoulder is in us
us
is a letter under your pillow
I left just (there it was)
because (again) I love you
cousins has it too
but not anywhere near
what
we do (even though those two letters are missing): I try to be us
I wushed the dushes
without you having to ask

wisdom. love
of logic does never presume, dear heart.
Regressive thoughts are justifications for psychic visions.
follow a chain a progression into axioms into infinity,
it could revolve forever, and get to where?
I state, for I am, I know the thought.
For what I know is a circular statement.
I build rational, I reason, look more at the past, then the future,
I still have more probability, philosophically,
of predicting, or becoming my hope,
eternal.

trace me
as I light afire this
night
desire
Mist our eyes collide
among the sky filled galaxies
follow my trail as  i echo silently
into the vacuum
of gay misty
horizons
look back
at my hand a
caress
gently
placed
on
yours.

here in the crumbling
of the plasterwork ceiling
the outsides fascia bandage
skin deep rot
pargeting facades
long dissolved
trying to remember
the correct way
I used to repair
them,
on edge a
soffit rotten
underneath.

my love when it began to spin to self
gratifying, slap me twice on each cheek
bring my libido back to check
my ego not needing the attention

the hurt gone, just a lonely spot
bleeding, once in my chest
where once I had a
heart not broken

to where in reach of my
callousness once I felt everything
I need your strength
your understanding

your lips to
say you will be there
for me
unconditionally.

not aware whom created the
list of the seven wonders
but my list were I
to compile would vary and differ
greatly

mine list would include
women

and the first look at your newborn

the rush of being charitable to a homeless man

stopping bullying

a dog's loyalty

a nighttime sky clear sparkled

a smile from anyone


and so I beg your patience
my list is the one I prefer
and i apologize to those who
created the original

that rerun I watched last night
the *** version of Gunsmoke
where the foreplay is not
nine seasons long
I limped just like Chester,
yearning for Miss Kitty,
knowing her
and Marshall Dillon were
upstairs, having a "tea" ,
and well, in last night's version,
Miss Kitty was unforgettable.

one graph
          one para
chutes
          two tunes
a melody
          harmonic
stating stately
           destiny
and balances
            won.
Falling safe safe safe
            into
Love.

in twilight's dusk are most furious
those sounds heard when most are sound asleep can be curious
the tastes tasted of life's here and now
the scents
near and far
if taken serious
might bring a strong man to his knees
somehow, or a
cautious virtuous woman
to her demise,
so tend the echoes carefully
see into the  myst most warily
behold the dawn with eyes open
smell like a scent hound
the variances
eye the echoes
as a bat
crawl
the corners careful

nearly the hour the hand flies past when I need sleep
alone, I seek, a connection
a phone to ring,
I twitter tweet post fly all my wings,
share plus heart
flutter away,
and I wait.......

One day
            we will sing together in perfect rhythm and  harmony
the song history has been awaiting
            the song of stars colliding destiny aligning with the past
and futures bright
            eclipsing the dark vast empty expanses
shining will be  the sun
            melodies of all voices
with a piece of peace
           remembering the beginnings.

fresh air flowing through
the salty ocean sea breezes, see
far away my senses
on the other side of reality,
making all seem
making me,
calm, on the gusts
of the storms blackest
thrusts. I reach inside spread my
imaginary wings caw out my temporary beak,
soar above the mountains and seas earthbound,
I am the breeze,
I am wide open,
to the receptive arms,
when I come down,
you greet
me with.

had a sight to see
and it took my life to get around
to making it reality

I have seen in this somesuch  make
believe life beauty of
a mountains tall

majesty, a woman's
glory so softer than a
pillow

and more god than any
being I have known
her navel

her hips the way
they curve up to her
*** and *****

her soft wetness
a swell the seas the mountains
never touched

the way she took me in
we melted into each other
but

I speak now of suddenness
how the days are metered
and she and hers are

tender but not all
of it and I'd lke to show you
one day

just one day I stepped out
of my mind
and saw myself

it was enlightening
and baby it was good
I floated over

died for a minute
came back
better

I seek that
again
the fervent reality

in the mirror again

these words cannot ever rescue the most dour of our individual angsts
they change nothing in the end cry out cry  out
sustain nor feed another make a smile appear out of a tear
but they contain my thoughts my feelings for
all of you
these words just appear to be grateful
in the end they sing a sad song for all
those lost and tenuous those
who hurt feel alone bad
I have felt those hurts too
it makes no difference writing them
except to scourge my mind
be a little more
cleansed
myself

we are devilish sparrows flitting
anon, currant fruits upon a limb-
talons curl grasp the worlds
ovaries and testicles
in delightful spurts
of esplanade;
an umbilical cord remains
after mama chews in two
the veins,
in vesical exuberance
we splay
and **** and hew
the sweet fruits flesh the
mane
the same as our
tree trunks do.
Cantilever on a shelf
ripen
weave a poem ourself
make cream and wetness
come into the silver eyes of lust,
it is all so normal now
the cow(brown cow)
forever
masticates
white forever now

the boys
my crew
my squad

the boys
in the bag
hanging

I got two

thems my
family jewels
and I cradle
them in silk
drawers

and get
real protective
of thems
at times

I pick up
things using
my legs
I scratch
ems

I keep
em cool
cause they
say too
warm can
be harmful

I shaved
ems once
what a
mistake
They got
itchy as
all get-out

Then I
got old
and they
hung to
my knees
and got
pretty unsightly

I look
on the
bright side
and thank
whomever
it was
that invented
the cup
and baggy
jeans!

Bemused
     eating refuse
          every day
                confused, usually
Bogie ( his real name)
     is seeking something
           to sink his tooth into.
                 Bemused as usual.
Dumpster
     diver par- excellence-
           smiling meek,
                  finding treasure
                      every day.
Bogie walks miles
     to find his
           dinner, does his best
                  refuse-ly.
Then,
     he walks miles back
            to his dumpster nest home,
                    smiling perpetually.

only a someday can compare to now
on a good day with the best
of company

knocked on my door you did at dawn
needing consolance and reasurring words
and I most happy to  abjure
on how we are all alone

must deal with things we forage up
said no worries dear
we all scream alone

it didn't make  you smile
nor did I intend it to
I will lie
for nobody

not the brightest smile or a play be
it Shakespeare even
no Juliet can make me
injure my conscience

I tell the truth even sure of
my lies or reasons no more
in the presence of the saddest eyes

it is the hardest thing
my dear

to every inmates claim,
          (yours)
are circumspect.
                Mine, are
surely true, for I saw it happening.

I am innocence, I know,
         (you) and thy innocence proclaim-
common sense- is saying
are but shouted lies.
Mine, are again, innocent.

To whomever is listening,
              (who) the judge nor jury
saw the truth,
to an honorable power so far above,
my pleas be heard.

to,
         (thee)
I see your
                guilty.

slicing my skin
clear through
to the *******;
I am broken again
but , not enough to need you.
Falling asleep again,
turning blue,
your biggest fan is your hero,
I hide my disdain,
I remember , in theory,
being true to
writing for me and I,
now I am hearting .
strangers in the bleeding
dark.

not mine, it is hers
and she is gone now.

She took me in
I took care of her and she taught
me how to love unconditionally.

Now in her chair I sit sad and uncomfortable.
Around me surrounds a heavy air.
A memory of our last saying,
I love you.

I made a promise to her, on her dying day,
to take care of RJ and Wally ,
Miss kitty, Mandy, Trouble, Blinky, Inky, Nod,
and two more grey kittys.

I will try, Marge. With all my heart.

I know they miss you.

But, not half as much as I do.

Throws longer on green
Grass the younger
The new sun up above
Seems in the
Mornings

As the grays turn
More cold as the
Trees get more
Brittle as the birds
Speak less
Bolder
As the horizons
Get closer

Appreciations set in
Almost glaring in relief
Standing out quicker
Bolder more
Noticed.
More serene

Like birds I've never
Noticed on wing
Near the clouds near
The forest
Careen float
Like asterisks on clean
Paper
Awaiting their
Call

And as the shadows get
Longer and bolder I
Allow them, no enchant and
Caress, each one
As an angel
I've missed.

You called and said "let's go fishing"
I am sorry I misunderstood.
I've got my pole all ready, stiff.
And, you have your
period.
Oh, so, what the hell.
We will so catch the hell outta'
some catfish with ****** stink-bait
cause a scene at the pond with
how many we'll catch.
Sorry I misunderstood, but fishin'
is the next best thing.

I like salty elbow visions and dream
of schemes and winds that change
always travel within the memories of
you and I and close my eyes
replay
the splendor and tragedy
close eyes of reality and
live in then.