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

Aidos was the goddess
guide to non-self enlightenment
ultimate submission
striking the pride of demons down
obedient I have become to Aidos wisdom.

I repress the misty view of desires
unworthy flattering
no longer my worth or view
as now I sit legs crossed
on the ground,
submit to
humility.

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 ****.

come
   to terms with satisfaction   expressions  emotions forgiven   strobe light dreams .... blackest visions accept.
ghosts live      with what is closest      thee warm are
closer to the edge
tiptoe
get around and measure  up then
tune in;  
cents is sent in little incremental bits:
hang on tweets: rebound around your face;
as books go unread
I sit
on
the shelf
echoes are replayed
needs go unheard.
dead is dead

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

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.

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.

if I am elected president  of this great country,
next month will be a month long
holiday, a celebration of blacks
whites yellow red brown cellophane
imaginary characters, superheros,
invisible mystery movie stars
country western, Rap stars, long haired rockers
Disco even ( among the most reviled)
rhythm and blues, blues reds
those with accents, those without,
homosapiens and bisexuals lesbians thespians the gay and those happy
foot fetishists, my subscription to wow toes lapsed,
biologists psychologists street pharmacy dudes
Marilyn Monroe (oops my freudian slip, there)
women men boys girls , old young two and four legged
disabled American vet or not
truck drivers , doctors nurses garbage collectors(I gotta give them cred)
machinists secretaries liberals conservatives socialists ummm
communists?, maybe not so much,
waitresses even bill collectors,
lawyers the clergy and those elected,
maids kings queens prostitutes pimps
bad  weak , rednecks Santa , I seen him today at the seven eleven
he works construction this time of year, the DEA
the Armed Forces, probation officers
the unemployed , the guy in the suit at the grocery in front of me buying Ribeyes with food stamps, teachers, septic tank pumpers  
.......whew,   I gotta take a break. I left many out , but this month long holiday is going to be inclusive. No one left out behind.
All colors all sizes all sexes all religions.
Gotta for once stop dividing this country into us
and them, see us all as Americans.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

severed , fish on the block
head I sit
ripe as a two year old egg
shelled
bitter as vinegar mixed with jack
Black stirred into a margarita and two shots of
house bourbon a beeker  of *** two
fingers of peepermint schnapps
and a handi-wipe
for a napkin
moderating an argument between this big woman
and a bear of a man  
about the rules of pool
whether  ***** are big small which
both of them dripping ice from their nostrils wild *** eyed
trying to slip off the far edge of the stool and at least go ****
they have me surrounded
one in my left ear big girl in my right
any closer their teeth would take a bite
sneered she does good and he all 6 4 350 lbs of him
reeks of hard work and the drout
I see clouds overhead

clouds everywhere
a lot of spit
little rain

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.

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/

After
reaching my destination,
I get bored easily,
  all the new wears off my high,
and the people are all the same
   Flintstones
I dream of a place of
   Jeanie,
I am an astronaut,
  I get creative,
rub a bottle or a
    pipe,
think a magic vision
    will smoke up
resolve all.
    Wish me,
luck!

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.

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.

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.

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!!

forage through
my carrots polish my tomato
smile as you suggestively
swallow the banana
devour all the
sour cream
on the red hot long
burrito
gulp the vanilla
ice cream
smile shyly
when I get a taste of pie.

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

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!

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

I see you
floating on impressions of lily pads
framed by me painted by Monet.
Up close i get dizzy.
Far off I see expressionistically, Van Gogh's "Starry nights".
In the reflecting I see,
A picasso.
In my real life, I see you, as
Leonardo must have,
with that most beautiful smile.
My, Mona Lisa.

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?

when the trees call staring down
       ask me what reason I am
walking alone among the pine cones
         dead brown
oak leaves laid about
          barefoot walk a path
that no one ever takes
          I go on walking listening
to them the trees
          they are older and strong
stronger than the asphalt
            where I have to shoe myself
to walk on
            going and listening
to nothing but cars
          loud shrieking brakes
and crashing
         I answer by walking right up to that tree
and kissing her or him
      hard to tell with a tree
right on its bark,
          sit near her or him and whisper
back,
          my reason should be clear
to one older and stronger.

was a girl that
made big entrances
homecoming queen
from America
a cell phone
found somewhere
loaded with texts
on a dark night in
September.
from the gyst of
it she seemed to just wanna have
a good time, a hit of crack a
nose full of **** a dime of ******.
Got in with the wrong crowd the
wrong things.
Ended up all alone.
nowhere.

A pen fences me in
and bleak my days in iron cages
I did always seek
to fill the blank page
to escape my den
i live within:
a tool to keep me
gate closed
where I did  search the key
to the greenest description
saw a  wise
freedom:
I seek to write now
with invisible inks,
of old faded fables
closed in drawers in dusky tables
a blank
page.

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

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.

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..

nor very cool to feel for every ***** or beggar or
low-life
there are just a multitude of them to cry over

it doesn't pay me a ******* cent
walking to town to watch the whorish
wave down traffic

angry is a bit of what I gnaw on
the gum of **** that makes me gag
almost or puke or wanna ****

any mother who allows their child,
yes we all, even the low cast out **** bottom
basement ******* for a dime ****** ***** got one

lets her child become this , **** her  **** yes
******* the *******,
******* the dripping *****

that walked away tucking their ***** of brains
back into their shorts onto the streets , oh what hustlers what
cruel ******* idiots

even them, even those ***** donor dead souls,
it is too much to feel for,
etc....

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!

ok, to be serious for just a minute,
is to cook anywhere defined as microwave
science? Is boiling water and adding Ramen noodles
and putting the spice thing in , after opening it, haha,
I knew what you thought there,  the beginnings of a bachelor chef,
or must I learn all the de rigour
of nutritional knowledge and buy a garlic press
along with those eight dollar fry pans
at Dollar General?
Just wondering.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

the moment
we met in the park
our kites gliding close
flirting with tangling together
our laughing smiles
taut strings between us
the sky
our kites flitting higher then ever
before now our eyes meeting
anticipation
blue sky bright sun
smiling east to west
north and south
our new kites
soft breeze then
we kissed

of hymn sings melodies harmonics to me
here of all of us
into the dreaming visions of peace
i see, i sing,
out of tune with reality, whatever,
stealing the words, of perhaps,
Ritchie Valens, or the Doors or Who sings
urgency of now like smashing things , pumpkins
guitars , drum solos sets Martin Luther King,
Gandhi, The pope or the Catholic reigns or Jewish straining
the Muslim urgency the forever
strains in nature the beat of streams or trees growing or earthquakes
volcanoes, JFK the sad sight of his death, or MLK on a balcony,
or a stray forgotten lad shot down at 16.
I sing with them , have much hope when I hear,
the females     high and males    baritone
create beauty, so love.

trill highest those
of lowest shrill
call mighty from
the lowest crawl
cry loudest
those who are shy
for tenderness
those among the horde
those souls
who bear a world of blows
going on however
they find a way knowing
someday
it's all going to go their way
or just gave up
hoping for
one day
to come along