I think in all honesty how it might be a shame to
not share my all with several women
not being conceited at all
I feel like if I cut them off
they might be alone
I know they just like me
has several bo's  an account
on over  the hill date me site
but none as honest as critical
as me in my several names and incantations
or politically correct  or
as strident in romance
or may I brag one time
without you laughing
as gorgeous

hard to say goodnight to sweet beauty
the sounds of love passionately
echoing her cries from here to there
but, comes a time eyes must close
and let in tomorrow's dreams and words
I listen while
I sleep
you would too,
if you had Pink Floyd
and David Gilmour
ringing in your ear!

ten cents and a gift in my jeans
I knocked on her door
she was like the girl next door
to the stars on Hollywood
she was tv beautiful
that long black perfect hair
couldn't believe she asked me in
we sat around (I was nervous)
looking at each other a min
I saw her dog
a little chihuahua
sniffing for tidbits on the floor
had a cheerio
from breakfast had fallen between
my belt buckle and jeans
called chico over
petted his head gave him the cheerio
told her
how I loved pets

and he started ******* my leg
I was lost
and she laughed
brought out
a bottle of Cuervo
and we had the best three way
of my life
watching
Y Tu Mamá También
eating nachos
and I got the sweetest
goodnight kiss
that night

sad how
I get on a roll
and have to go to Annie's Country store at
6:30 am
refill
my inspirations
sadder yet is the cats and my Labrador
expecting treats
when I get back six pack in hand
and cigarettes
good ****** thing I got
hot dogs left

In 1984, I assimilated this southern drawl and slow sly wit.
Whilst i felt so foreign, at first, and had to sit in the woods alone
and meditate, I met this one gopher tortoise one day. He slowly startled me when he stuck his long neck out and offered me a bite of a gopher apple.
It tasted like the bubble gum I used to get with Detroit Tiger baseball cards in. We slowly became best friends. I met his convex mate and others with his first name he generously shared his burrow with.
His home was home to crickets frogs and snakes, he asked me to join them.

I was too big, of head or ego, I really don't know, why I did not join him.
I still wander the woods where frequent fires have burned, and find on sand hills, among the creamy white flowers  
and ***** stems,
the gopher apples. And plant them in memory of my friend, so slow and wise.
I see him time to time,
but find him rare and rarer.

I
go so fast a pedaling
balanced
I love to take the corners
low
to the ground
Wheels get almost firey red
the faster I
go.
Skid

to
a STOP.

Wait....


Clear, I go fast a pedaling again
my hair flies in the wind
a corner is coming up.
I get
low.

Bewitching games of rumors
Shame like tattletales
And teacher's pets
On the playground
Or walking home
T'is often told, but,
Not by them-
That loose tongues
Often..... fall
Right out.

than all this trying to find a love to save me
more
we all know
gotta be more to me to be able to be
whole
I do know
to be able to love unconditionally
sure
It's so hard

You know, you gotta love your pup.
Even, when he is a goofy ****,
tearing up your newspaper
or taking your I-phone out
the doggy door never
to be seen again,
or thinking he's a kitten trying
to get all 100 pounds onto your lap.
His four feet bigger than a small pony's,
ears so long they drag the ground.
The brownest eyes, I swear he puts on mascara,
most forgiving- tail
always wagging-
he loves me, so,
I got to love the goofy ****.

to be myself that funny feeling
within the crying baby what do you
think of me in this
crying sobbing
supposed to be strong
the willing dreams the night
how do you feel to
see me vulnerable
and weak
I play the G-string
on my guitar make it sing
and cry        for  you  only

Grace was not all there
in the way society looks at people
nor in the know
she rode that little bus to school

yet she drew pretty little
pictures on the walls at home
and wrote the saddest songs
on toilet paper
or whatever she could find

she once went to the river
when her mom had
gone grocery shopping

and found a grasshopper
and  brought him home

and drew a perfect picture
of a small insect on top of the world
reaching for the sun
and the moon
I think I understand
her

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.

it motivates me
like breathing
or hunger
and I get impulsive
try to steal marshmallows
from the sky
wanting all of them now
and when I got mature
I forgot
how pleasurable
it can be to just reach up
in the clouds

Entirely
          Speculation
This
               Reticulation
Of
           Earthly
Desires
               Making
Longing looks
        Over
Waters
             Shuddering
Anything
             But what
It was
               Only
Waves

gray grace, it grows on you a certain
days taking tolls making us bend and bow
strange bedfellows become us as we go
the smiles come easier with every
belief we held when young to see anew
through falling hair and cataracts like dew
on misty memories held close and left
to go to where we are on a way to
go very breifly, so we gather rainbows
try to learn new languages pass on the
little bits of life we learned experienced.

so   toiling on through the loneliness
amidst the day going forth sun ups
sunsets a day in all still the world
twirling
and it is magical and morose
real and make-believe

so like the days to tease one with a bright sun
and the darkest shadows all
at once nowhere to find a balance
in the  black of all the glare
spinning dizzy in between the
grass shoots petunias glow

tell me what I'll tell you a fool I am
a worshipper a sinner too
I make believe and curse
away the day
the way a folly soul
does on his journey

I don't know land from sea anymore
or truth or reality its all become blurry here
here  in the gray grey has been life I sink into

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....

green boughs yellow leaves glistening sun glancing from streams
leading to  red roses yes thorns prickling wild berries
generously feed us fields flowing yellow goldenrod
crimson sunsets glowing silver moons
trembling we lie under holding dreams in hands the temples
promised by me to you our earth under us, I give,
A new sun a horizon of scented freedom
with me and you
and nothing else meaning a thing.
A dawn on this horizon,
dew drops a visage,
a nature never
visited
by any romance
before.

note to me
limit the coffee
from now on to one
***
i've been hand shaking greeting everyone at wal-mart
all day
even the store manager and security
trying to shoo me away
but i am , doing I am , I AM
such a good job the people
are gathering around

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

grounded, delusionally,
I can fly occasionally,
like a mythical horse with wings,
when I set my mind to these things

I reflect every morn after one cup
of coffee and two cigarettes
play Sudoku
try to relieve me
logically this biological fact
smells when I try to

get up after playing
naked Twister until 3 am
and running out of Crisco at 4.

I must be high

I forgot how much it hurts

must have a good buzz
and am wobbling

guess I must be  lifted on substances wings
above all the  calamity

from there I don't
see
all the suffering

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.

I am trying to make the book see my name in print in the next edition
for the most reads of a poem on Hp with no hearts, shares , or collection reposts , sans comments, just ignored so well it breaks the records, if
Guinness has such a thing. Or possibly the most poems wroten bad
and worst punctuations, mark, my, word!

one day has passed and your leaving has not passed
still as thick as molasses
a badgered  beavered up creek **** it
puddles thicken flood
and their a'int no levy
to catch the overflow
gonna be
moss on every tree
vines grown like spiderwebs
Magnolia leaves floating down the creek
like paper plates
snakes enjoying a bath and guppies
on the banks flopping
in ecstasies jumping in like
we did way back when
on those banks of the Chatahootchee
a rope hanging
foreshadowed
something we knew
but ignored
you took a way I me mine
chose to see
yours and my  destiny
we all die
someday
but my burden
seems to be I am still alive

How is my sweet babe
Toiling with laundry and beer
gently with my soul

I do not own any land
I live upon her *****
I will be buried under

ain't wrote no haiku
in like an eternity
the paper is white

life is a nothing if a platitude
of discovery and seeing
sometimes things that are not there or attitudes
which are visceral
airless balloons and gaseous
bursts of noxious fumes
as many times balloons
might float
they also fall like we all do
all along the coast the swollen
float as small
plastic residues
no longer beautiful
tides like brooms
sweep the crests the furrows
the burgeoning breeze
cleanses deaths smell and memory
from the sunken swollen
ships
a sailor stands as a ghost
and signals
hail hail to thee

flights of sparrows
familiar plays
regress  
into subliminal
messages
What would Oedipus
say of universal
fatherhood
come says the snowfinch
cinnamon ibon familiar songs
where we play with maids and they
eat seeds
innocently

then on   the sand   walking together
barefeet  a step  whereever
we wanted to wander
hand in hand a shell
picked up
listened to
barely clothed
baked in the sun
quiet listening
to the waves crash
the shell echo
what a tender sweet summer
recall
you looked    then    at me
the sun behind you
my eyes glimpsed
eternity
as we walked
closer to the surf
hand
in hand

with wrenches a hammer
i can fix leaks in any sink or roof
when you are stranded on the side of the road
I can change your tire
I got tools
sometimes feel I am one
give me my duct tape
and a beer
I will fix you
but, it is
so ironic
how I am always broken....

and one passes
a new one begins
a life ended and ten babies
cries sing
every new year's eve
the hopes and dreams get renewed
life and year's end
but the new one's are better
Happy 2017!!

my girl,
      tomorrow will see you
only  one day older,
      one year wiser,
glow one bit brighter,
        be one year
prettier,
          I will count forty nine
candles, as I watch you
            blow them out,
I know,
           we are wishing the
same thing!
            Happy Birthday!!
Queen!

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

All

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

it is hard to keep arranged the dichotomies when
you are strange
harder to line up the theme with meaning when
you forgot the dreams
I forgot the cast, the leading lady, the antagonist,
the hero the villains,
the theater where it all takes place.
When the curtain dropped,
the flowers died, the audience no longer cried.
But some of us remained.
long after the echoes died
the bouquets dried up
the house lights came up
showing the mascara running
wild down our
lonesome faces.

once absent of key
chords wound around
had we thought of this before
may we have been more profound
planned the soliloguy
stood more proud and determined
took more practice in plans
more days before we auditioned
had more deft a ******* more
understanding
a lighter touch a romantic
view
questions are so lingering
and time ticking on
I find time
four three cadence and harmony
hard to determine

a candle lit
   in the wind and rain
hard to sleep
   when the windows
are buffeted with
       drops of doubt
blows of insecurity
      night at times
I seek
   find in their shouts
snuffing my dreams
     my screams
no one answering
       dark and wicks
burnt down too
        far to re-light!
Time ever
     unendingly
dark obscene,
          yet what I seek?

when lows seem all around
mountains are somewhere
I saw them when I was young
they loomed large and inviting
like treasures

may they be around this bend
hidden by tall trees
I am so small
smaller than

when trying again to find my
way out the valleys
the depressions
life seems to have given me

but I saw them when ago
last time
was near about twenty four
years hence

like a birth of Jesus it was
when he cried
and she broke my hand
it was enormous

the tallest mountain
the highest high ever
seen

so yes
there are highs
among the lows
you just have to discover
how to make them
appear

amid the sad squalls of young cries and the seagulls
there amid the jubilee
came from a siren a song
saying singing
let her cries make me
strong
dear lord
like a hymn a black revival
take me now
I am ripe ready
have seen the worst
the vile the man hanging
from the noose
just a young man
had nothing did nothing wrong
then
came that sound
again
if I give up
it is gonna happen again
take me then
to the fight to
the instance and let me die there
I will not let the future
be like this
and it sang
and some died and the song
still resounds
in this day and time
chords off key and discordant
yet haunting
me

my whole death to sleep
all of eternity
which ain't here yet
so I try
to think every second
of keeping my eyes focused
on now and
everything
is okay so far
afraid at times
to close my eyes
for I may
never
wake up
again

nor a name to my me
thought I had one heart
back when
to confide in
to hold her up
I did
when it came
time I was needy
she had so many
things to do
that's this life
won't be the last
time I smiled
and got indifference back
the shadows do not
reflect back
but goodwill does
if given to those
who have
a heart

ever tried to answer the haunting ***
question about what you meant
in that poem?

ever noticed how long it takes a *****
to eat an ice cream sandwich where
it disappears in one gulp
with a dog?

I know the answer. If you ever have read
Emerson, or Thoreau, Whitman,
or the plaque on the wall your momma
prayed to.
Or, stared over a white blank page,
wondering,  where in torment or
ecstasy, their inspiration arose.
Or felt feelings lump up into
an unswallowable lump in your throat,
blended ink and tears into anything,
I know you are,

knowing,
what I mean.

have you had
a friend
better than
my imaginary pal?

does your friend
keep you company when
all alone?

Is he at your side when
you slide off the sides
of society?

Is he always positively
patting your back?
And, does he like all the songs
you like?

Will he be there
and was he like mine from the beginning,
did he grow up with you?

Is your friend you?
Like I am mine?

An old time clock
with a weight swaying
to and fro, a pendulum
I think they are called?

Side to side
or an old wind up pocketwatch,
that won't wind anymore,
or a tie clip from your Dad's
collection.

You look at it in the old cigar box
it's been carefully put away when
his aftershave seems to fill the air,
and you recall Momma hugging him?

Now you only have no ties to use
a tie clip for.
And a clock in the corner and
one in your cigar box,
not ticking,
anymore.