Amid the soils and grit of
life and pleasures   pursuit
of happiness may one find
the fruit of perfection? In some museum
eclipsed in heaven?
Or on Madison Avenue or on a magazine cover?
Or in some religion?  What sect?
Or may we have as much luck planting a banana
peel in a hole we dug and filled with ****?
Positive outlooks are necessary, but roses don't grow here
in December and bananas are imported and petroleum
is now cheap and internet is wireless
and lunar eclipses and we all arose from some explosion
and , god forbid, my parents had ***. Otherwise,
I would not be here writing, this ****.

If you've
     Ever had a dream,
           Like i do
Feeling real as anything,
      Believing
             It will soon come true,
   Well, i do.
Dangling barefoot in a stream,
       Every sunbeam
              meant for you,
       Thats what I mean,
    And you've wanted all your
            Days, to dream this way
      Sharing caring with
             The sun,
  Holding hands in beams of love,
           Knowing all the wait
    Is over, and the nights
                Will be so warmer,
            a dream
                    Come true
                         Forever,
                       I do.

i am to a  tangent function  arc of circumference real
the magnitude of the perimeter of my  reflecting rays cut through
the diameter of periodically functioning perimeters the sines
crosses over the ***** into asymptotes horizontally questions
arise what may be the derivative of the product of two less functional
****-ups?
In a piece-wise functional reality might it be weird to ask ?
I fall through the condition no binary operative am I or will allow,
I decipher here, the quantities quality. I coordinate this graph draft it to my reality, cipher the x y
approach thereby a tangent to infinity here now,
then on a point between the average *****, in my defined interval,there is a point where it all is irrelevant

I have this place
no one knows about
between a field and a willow tree
along a pastures edge
a creek down around the corner
I go to when
things get oppressive
dark and hard
and I sit there
I don't know if I meditate
there in this place hidden
but I get peace
I see love I hug this earth

what have the fingers to say
with their anonymous scribblings when
I close my eyes and let them fly
thinking mostly with fingernails
on a chalkboard just letting them cry
I don't  outline my subject or have a theme when I
wash my hands stretch my digits out
let them loose to do their texting
watch dense as mercury on Mars from here
their words surprising the meaning come from behind
the aching tendonitis the arthritis spasms
those fingerprints on the keys of my worn off identity
I claim nothing
almost not me

I stand convicted of emptiness.
I claim no pardon,  no accomplice,  no alibi.
I am executed slowly.

My Reason has judged me guilty:
of searching for love and finding hate;
of searching for peace and finding turmoil;
of searching for truth and finding lies;
of searching for comfort and finding pain.

I am condemned to the agonizing maze of crowded loneliness
rushing headlong into oblivion-
There will be no reprieve.

Time is my executioner-
he taunts me with fleeting ideas and hopeless hopes
as I crawl forward towards the noose,
haunted always by my destiny,
that dawns ever slowly.

I get the Oedipus theme
he killed his dad and had four
kids with his mom
and she hung herself and he
stuck something in his eyes
I dont get
the  reasons a man wrote this
or Freud named a complex after it.
Jocasta was innocent
high
I guess
lonely
and this guy walked in....

I, like a matrix...
transpose myself and my ability to feel
into a sentient being (quite
immense , a task)
If you ask?

Reflect the element A to the I
as A feels:
repeat the  processes
until we return...

with the feelings of the other,
intact;  sharing the burdens
emotions, the hard facts
felt not with tactile touch
but,

through compassion. It may
take triangulating or strangulating reason, departing
from the safe sanity (in);
It may take Egotism to think that way.

Use your imagination.

Peace of not many years  we
forgot those unheard.
Who gave their all?  in wars we fight one after another?
Goodbye, we think
we have said;   Thank you
we decide we have said, enough.
To ease our common conscience.
But, isn't it all too late?
When the cold is written on the paper about
the brains in pieces?
Killed  by deaf ears passing, ignoring
the screams, down
to the next
generation?
Going unanswered.
Often unmentioned.
We stand hand on heart on Memorial day.
We salute with abandon.
Thinking we give a tribute worthy of the sacrifice given.
Those who screamed into deaf ears
abandoned. Alone .
They gave their
all.

smiling in a mirror I see
an elephant in the room\a deserted island .

there are mountains precipices above about me
dangerous

surroundings if I give up
and dark valleys filled with enemies

knowledge is no armory when fitted for a battle of strength
'tis general \

or survival that brings an animal above to see
here
in reality
I am the one

alone so natural like mammal lust and human greed
in all the caves I seek

hiding

away from

rationing my sanity if I did not see a grander destiny
for me
for us.

The holder of thine heart which lacks within my breast
resides beating, beating, beating
in your *****.
To love, to, love again,
is there in sighs and heaving,
to no others breath I will listen,
nearing religion, in devoting my soul
to those bounteous fruits of you fully grown
womanhood calling to me.
Thee, that shines upon my eyes, my deafness now hears,
resumes a life of woe un-abating,
now ticks again.
Now upon thy *****, my head rests hearing, reasons
for being again.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.

Sing a duet of philosophical complexion with me
be my soprano reflect my bass rhythm into the upper reaches
sing like a Higgs boson particle giving mass to the preaching
while I echo deeply the big bang in symmetry

or discuss how our children might look if our combined genetic mutations hold
or religion
tell me what destiny is

sell me on astrology and read my palm tell me about my future
with you

let physics and sociology take over
give yourself up to my gravitational pull
orbit with me the interstellar realms
where in a vacuum we breathe
only one another.

are the vagrant weeds, there on earth spread like greedy *******,
never appreciated. Dandelions , to me,
are as gifted glorious,
as any violet or rose. and, fro'
to and believe just as an Orchids scent
on Easter day.
In Ecclesiastes ,
is told that mere breath,
just living, is meaningless.
everything just dies, all is meaningless.
I write thereby, an autobiography,
as if I were a ****.
germinated not pretty, fragrant
vagabond, I analogize, anthropomorphize
into a moth ugly,
I try to be a Butterfly,
flutter beautifully, colorful.
But am I
I am
beautiful,
anyway
suffering, continuously
burned in the fire.

so I smoked my pint of tea
googled culture
discovered I had to join society
or fill out five hundred forms
to join the human race
got transmitted STd's and itchy
things
or had to pierce painful things
fake my ethnicity
or ******* cut my hair
or drink in smoky rooms
stumble around learn to play games
to get to know her be fake
say I am a doctor wanna free Pap-smear dear?
And then even with my resisting
found out I Kant

hours since I was home,
my sign is astrological calm
twelve dozen months or years until
Revelations 12:1
or twelve tribes
twelve sons of Jacob
twelve Imams legitimate  successors
twelve Disciples, narrates the Prophet Yusuf
and his twelve brothers,
the twelfth moon of Jupiter, Lysithea,
the number of Magnesium, my son's weight
at three months plus his nine inside,
my cranial nerves,
C in hexadecimal,
NGC 12 spiral galaxy,
is craps on the first roll?

I reduce to reality a flip side of ecstasy
expect and seek apathy from all i transpose
a portal of dress makeup

like a woman's false eyelashes fluttering
I look away to the Big Girl lonely
want to take her home
make someones day

nave I may be speaking psalms deaf
to the chancel fictionally impostering
a vital boundary approaching
plays the part of ecstasy knowingly
i am
apathetic.

Blind.

or multiples
got the Mother Teresa one
the little "rosebud" I call her,
appalled by hunger , she stores in
her thighs the fat
of good deeds

the other so opposite
I call John Dillinger
and he fancies himself Robin Hood,
he bemoans the lack of morals
in the brothels, all slack tongued ,
he calls them.

And the last, who has made him her self known so far,
is part artist and magician. Writing is his mission when he is here, and then just as quickly as he appeared vanishes into thin air.

mother was a saint
father her punching bag
sisters were all called *****
when they came home
and failed the ***** check my mother
gave them, mother did nothing wrong
she ruled with brick hard pork chops
and circles of us kids
screaming , a belt in her hand,
who stole my chocolate bar?
No wonder dad had other things to do,
referee in basketball and hockey
an ump in baseball,
a head linesman in football
a devoted Boy Scout mentor,
he mentored so many young men,
but was not there for me.
I grew up not knowing how to tie a knot or survive,
I was lucky mom favored me.
I guess because in that circle of five kids,
me being the youngest , before school age,
to stop the terror I said I had stolen that candy bar.
She was a smart saint, asked me what kind was it?
I failed and was dismissed from the circle of terror.
I went to my room the rest of my days at home
trying to balance the sanity from the insane and withdrew.
I bounced ***** off the wall. Made up fantasy baseball players.
Had all their statistics scribbled in notebooks  
year after year, always my name was there and I was better than Babe Ruth. Somehow , I was smart enough to get the hell out of there.
I got out earlier with mescaline mushrooms *** lsd Quaaludes
alcohol young girls. But, I got out fully when I left to join the Air Force.
I look back and state all this for the purpose of saying it was
all my fault, not mom's or dad's, mine. I was weak.
It took me years and years to figure it out get strong find my voice
consider  my mom as a saint again
and my dad as a martyr!

never was or in between almost
and here on paths of worn leather
and jeans left in the corners standing
almost on their own
with bass drums from hell and guitars from heaven
lightning away
we went to together a dream
a wondered place of blacklight and innocence we
really never had or tasted sweet like
in a rush to maturity
we ran on all fours
drooling about doors and
Zeppelin and emerged
kind of.
Ten Years After.

Into her old dying eyes,
Cold, one last time he dove,
Swam for that shore
Where basking naked
They had saw,
In those eyes and his,
The molten sun dance
Pursuing rainbows
Arching curves
Of fleshy skies
A time gone,
And knew

lab, about the dissecting of frogs I sensed
something
what if aliens came and saw us as frogs
a delicacy
or an experiment?
I grew out of that in college, only to
relapse when on a trip to the zoo
this gorgeous girl wanted
me in the woods, and I saw all the squirrels and rabbits
winking , the moles poking heads out of holes
and her blouse undone,
I sweated , trembled , took her breast tenderly
in my hand
it felt like heaven,
when she touched me back
I thought about that dead frog
and how we stuck electrodes on his legs,
I twitched
I shouted
think  that was the first time I danced,
in fact I know it was.
from there on out it was more ***
education with a hint of biology.
And we danced the night long with
no more thoughts of frogs legs twitching.

in reality, Kierkegaard
was right, it is up to each
of us to look back and define ourselves
in the bright lights of reality,
were we cruel, self centered,
lost waylaid , we must take credit
no man made me think
or do or cuss or believe,
not a woman's fantastickness
beauty caused me a thing,
I chose, it was me,
who was weak or strong or cruel,
I had choices and all the clues
the answers though  i may have refused to believe.
But essentially i am neither of those things,
not wise or cruel or brutally honest,
everyday I changed evolved stumbled saw ignored
struggled thrived.
Each sun was anew.
Another chance to right wrongs I ignored
too weak. too unwilling, too afraid.
Absurd how I tend to define
being here, now I have lived, the past just a dream.
described fully by my actions I rationalize away.
I did not choose parents situations, were I a
rich man I might view different the
actions as warranted.
The future is my only action possible.

to paint you

it would be a finger painting abstract

colors touched and swirled
bright reds and yellows

cerulean blue little finger

leaving traces of your sight

mauve your lips on my

thumb

making love to the canvas

Drink.      Though I do.
Smoke.      Tell me about it.
Make money.    Story of my life.
Prophesise.    It's too cloudy.
Philosophise.    In a way.
Columnise.    Working on it.
Be right.   Got over that at sixty.
Be high.   It never lasts.
Make peace.  ****, I'm too angry.
Be young.   See above.
Be humble.    I love me.
Be graceful.     At sixty?  Really?
Be positive.  Depends on polarity.
Eat healthy.   I do had whole grain bread pizza today.
Be lovely.  Not in my mirror.
Be kind.  Depends on my moods.
Love unconditionally.  Trying to.

may be right, he he
need does push one in a way and food stamps
    and medicaid teach us to be lazy
they say sink or swim and the cream will float to the top
       when all gotta eat I SAY
if mine  if anyone I know is going hungry
                    I will steal for them.
Let economics reign. Demand and supply
are but a graph.

Never titled a poem
Love
Before wondered
Would I ever
now that I have
I have to title
All my poems
forever, Love.

The vast universal suffering feel as thine:
Thou must bear the sorrow that thou claimst to heal;
The day-bringer must walk in darkest night.
He who would save the world must share its pain.
If he knows not grief, how shall he find grief’s cure?
If far he walks above mortality’s head,
How shall the mortal reach that too high path?
If one of theirs they see scale heaven’s peaks,
Men then can hope to learn that titan climb.
God must be born on earth and be as man
That man being human may grow even as God.
He who would save the world must be one with the world,
All suffering things contain in his heart’s space
And bear the grief and joy of all that lives.
His soul must be wider than the universe
And feel eternity as its very stuff,
Rejecting the moment’s personality
Know itself older than the birth of Time,
Creation an incident in its consciousness,
Arcturus and Belphegor grains of fire
Circling in a corner of its boundless self,
The world’s destruction a small transient storm
In the calm infinity it has become.
If thou wouldst a little loosen the vast chain,
Draw back from the world that the Idea has made,
Thy mind’s selection from the Infinite,
Thy senses’ gloss on the Infinitesimal’s dance,
Then shalt thou know how the great ******* came.
Banish all thought from thee and be God’s void.

Search the chorus for a proper voice
a noted ring, a centering of whispered scream
like a elm glade catering on a soul cliff

the cliff, flies unforgiving, with smoke sting
a pest, but faith's river flows through amazing
infuriatingly slow
through a windowpane  a pine vestige
We see nests unveiling
the falcon's spread magnificence
in September fade
remembering.

never are we
when the sounds of words keep
our hearts \beating\
of the hard\ way\
one howls\
or still sings to the yellow moon\
as long as oxygen\
as long as carbohydrates drown\
as long as cactus survives\
or in the desert the sun rises\
whenever\
a heart beats\
we will be there\
or an eye looks\
where it should not\
in the dark\
in the soft pink shoulder biting\
are us\
in the silk sheets\ trying is all\
it will  take\
for us\
to resuscitate revive be there\
in words we will all be there\
forever/

trim and finishing
   the paintwork will reveal no matter how spackled
if the planning and footings aren't square.

custom  millwork and artsy craft
   do not hide the lack of deft blueprints
and engineering

Correctly spacing the 2 by Fours and !/4 Rounds
   without plumbing  and building on solid ground
leave many a stair to be climbed

Upper floors are where it's at when we are designing our houses.
  If a temple or an apartment, a plan,
is our solid foundation.

hard is trying to make  pillows
of river rocks and hard concrete
abutments fo' covers
and drinking the ***** river down stream
of the corn crops and cotton
quenching thirst
in the available,
like ten zillion
camels trooped through
your mouth,

and who knows anymore
the runoff
might soften the eggs
again
and I may be
extinct
unlike the eagle who
got lucky.

I take from every day
  laying down only
after what I want is done

every day just

  as the last
I walk the worn out
  path

acquaintance with buzzy bees
  hummingbirds
and colored things

red ground has my footprints
  worn
flowers trees green and brown grasses
   nod at me

I will not say their names
   as we are just passing friends
tilting our caps
   in frequency

Subtly we say hello
    

I go up and down
    to where after what I want is done
only then,
  do I lay down

and rest.

tick tock
tock tikety
tee too
time so
tocks ticks
await you
your return
tock ticks
eye flash
hope you
o k
tock tick
await again
life so
tock tickety
long when
listening to
clicks clocks
tickety tocks
gears gnash
hourglass
sand sifts
seconds
hours
days years
tick tocks
alone
awaiting
you to
return
and still
I wait
for you
hear the
ticks tocks
anticipate
ticks tocks
cant sneak
up on me
as i sit
here awaiting
tick tock
click clock
count me
my life
as a
dream of
sand shift
ing down
the glassine
clear vision
ary dream
awaitin'
again
tic toc
to when
the beg
inning

god her poetry is unmatched and her voice an angel


Chelsea Morningl  Joni Mitchell

Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning, and the first thing that I heard
Was a song outside my window, and the traffic wrote the words
It came a-reeling up like Christmas bells and rapping up like pipes and drums

Oh, won't you stay
We'll put on the day
And we'll wear it 'till the night comes

Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning, and the first thing that I saw
Was the sun through yellow curtains, and a rainbow on the wall
Blue, red, green and gold to welcome you, crimson crystal beads to beckon

Oh, won't you stay
We'll put on the day
There's a sun show every second

Now the curtain opens on a portrait of today
And the streets are paved with passersby
And pigeons fly
And papers lie
Waiting to blow away

Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning, and the first thing that I knew
There was milk and toast and honey and a bowl of oranges, too
And the sun poured in like butterscotch and stuck to all my senses
Oh, won't you stay
We'll put on the day
And we'll talk in present tenses

When the curtain closes and the rainbow runs away
I will bring you incense owls by night
By candlelight
By jewel-light
If only you will stay
Pretty baby, won't you
Wake up, it's a Chelsea morning

two years from now I just feel will be the one
the year when I find peace and the world stops revolving
around me
I will become fully mature and total
I will finally grow up
I will be
with no wants or needs  
no storms or seeds to sow
no fight left no war
no scars and issues
just tissue
just flesh and blood
just sinew
and then may I become
and then melt into
and then be one with all
or feel hurt without getting angry
or be honorable without needing praise
or be charitable just because
I am new
and I am calm
and I am better
and I have grown
it is 2018 when this all might become
or rather 2017
December 31
my resolution

my baby....
expectant seeds of memory
truths do surge in unanticipated but ******
flows

surge and bring thee closer;
into my realm; devolve mysteries
resolve the unsolved; evoke and revoke my stain... my misery.

Be my home:  I as I am stand proud-
as your knight-
and you my Queen.

My mirth is dark,
inside a brain stem of insane
memories, is a humor,
coursing through
my temples,
straining my neck
eating me inside out.

laughing as i cry
crying as i laugh.

Tearing itself from me, begging
scratching a way to break free, out
laughing at all my inanity and self deprecating
straining.

my side, in pain, as I see
the humor behind me. It , maybe haunts,
my laughs.

when I turn my head and look at things
sideways
Consider the edge of light and dark
mathmatically an asymptote approaching
infinity vis a vis the starlight
I see on a clear night, so real and clearly now,
is the past, actually, someday when it crossed
milions of light years,
to be in my telescope,
The closest I can be to now,
is a memory when I percept it.
On a daylight, I think might,
my real no matter how fast or hard I try to
be in it,
is a past forever.

the day I hated the world
I wanted to squeeze lemonade
out of sunshines' smiles
fill a rose colored glass
with **** positiveness pour
the saying win-win in the
******* toilet while flushing,
and regurgitating-
rip all the signs down advertising
merchandising commercializing
proselytizing -take Nancy Grace's
annoying know it all *** on
face to face and pull some ignorant *****
asscheeks over their ears, **** in
their neck-
rip all the sermons of every preacher
to pieces,
choke world leaders with
**** and peace while all the
broken threads of promises
on their watch haunted from
graves and holocausts and
mass killings and enslaved
blacks indians
whoever you don't like,  
the weak, gays liberals skinheads
Vietnam Vets
old people graying alone dogs
with rabies vampires of society drunks
****** lonely sub-culture types wearing no shoes
no hopes and no dreams buy because of you
, because of culture to be in, in the crowd
of popularity once like a Warhol prediction
getting their 15 minutes
at the aim of a politician policeman radical Islamic terrorist
or the freaking nut down the  street with an AR-15 and 100,000
reasons to go mad.

Tame now, in the midst of
The forests limbs, strong bark arms
Brown like a farmers,
All round.

into deja vu
  apercu into extreme
reality, meaning
  seeming so lifelike, prescient.

I have done something
   similar , before,
28 % of the time
    my origin story says.

a propos or aide-memoire
    like *** remembering
an anieu regime-
     au contraire, I say to me.
I am au courant,
     in we!

In conversations with
     my past and present,
my Indian and French,
      extremes, I see
I am au fuit,
      been pensaut
seeing, two ways,
      bon vivant,
being,
      a ****** tunes.

At times weird sounds
                     turn me on,
Like crying,
                     don't always mean I 'm sad,
or eating too many cotton candies
             does not always make me bellyache,
I whine!
         Big Heart just aches
and ain't always
           beating on time!

GIRL:
Sorry darling, I hadda put a poem out there.... Yes, indeed, I have read your other emails. I would like to respond but I have got to make a quick sandwich first and get some hangout/jammies on.
MAN::
what color ******* u wear with jammies
GIRL:
today I have on bikini ******* that are white w little blue flowers. I will go commando in my jammies ....
MAN:
hot both ways I am sure
GIRL:
what about you? what do you have on?
MAN:
a very large smile
Girl:
Nice. Very nice.

It sho is
   sun up Daleville, hick down home
sure do- want sum
   grits- white steam risin'
black joe (later, home-brew)
   walkin' (no bus) one-yellow-light
Army town unemployed
   sunny-side up eggs and grits!

I write this letter to my ******
chaste poisonous version
wondering
if kissing is
confused
with love

I drop to my knees revising
poetically describing
somewhere
above me
transfused
in lust

I sing a dreamland fugue
outside your  balcony,
call for you-Stella!!!
wait for you to come
into the night  make the glorious moon envy,
or, if in the morn, make the sun to set for your glory will
surely light all the skies.
I say, anon, and hark and woe, using every word in my
repertoire
singing below your balcony,
off key
a tad wobbly
Shakespeare
and Beethoven not my strong suits.
So I will instead,
play from my I-phone,
Led Zeppelin,
Over the Hills,
and sing ,
shyly off key,
Hey Lady!!

I will sing of her ankles, the sun and the mighty of earth.
I saw her bareness, there in the baths, a lovely vision dancing.
Then, the dark-clouded son of crocus
startled her.
Once he used to jump over measured ponds, saw the bidding
of King Porcupine, he himself aids violently says, You will live in
lymph nodes and he croaked, my neat-ankled
bather , my dear, jumped and ran away.

long angered by the notion
I could with premonition do
anything smart or pre-arrange
a conspiracy by me
myself or I

under all law charge me
with stupidity with *******
just don't ever think
I had a bad
heart

simply I plead guilty to being
lazy slack jawed and frivolous
in this court here
this jurisprudence,

I ask
your sympathy
no mercy.

In the bin I buttered her up
I thought funny for I find loony
insane but never duck  her incoming flight
nor pluck any downy plumage stuck
I elongate my neck
even when temporarily flightless
with grog of fish
my wide beak grins
holding slippery food items
but, geese are rather appealing,
I squack,
so out again,
of it,
I extend my breast proud..