Countdowns can be the end,
it's started,
nearing the beginning.

Underdosed,
I find it hard to focus,
these pins poking both lobes,
just above
& between my eyes
catastrophe.

We bebopped
along the Straße,
full of the finest hops,
higher than kites,
enamored with
everything Deutsch.

Everywhere we went,
the deejays
spun the Beatles & Stones,
as if  we were Brits,
when we were actually
Yanks & nein GI's,
Ich bin students!

Saguaros stood
like spiny-sentinels
as I sped along the Camino,
alone,
top down.
Warm winds &
tequila-breath
burned my shot-eyes
when I first spotted
the thumbing Lupita,
way south of Ensenada
on good 'ole 1.
Her graceful
toothy-smile
under her full lips
seemed gracious
as I pulled up
alongside her,
kicked the door open.

She hopped in
& we catapulted
with her hair streaming &
brown-skin shining
in the falling sun.
We hit high speeds
smiling
as we continued
south, driving
into the coming night.

Twinkling-stars
& static-filled
La Bamba-tunes
kept us company.
We discussed
sacred-mysteries
in broken languages,
later, counted
each others toes,
rubbed noses
in my bedroll.

In the morning,
she was gone
left me a note
& the ruffled rose
she had pinned
in her raven-black hair.

As I drove off
in a dreamy-state,
somewhat disappointed,
a spiraling one,
a lone black bird
trailed behind me,
I'm sure it was her.

Soon, she disappeared
from my rear view memory,
but never out of my mind.

I can't spend my whole life
writing my heart away.
I don't have
all the time in the world
to make you mine.
It would be unkind to think
what is written in the stars
is solely for us.

Don't tell me sweet things,
never tell me you want me,
I am only your fiery imagination
& you'll see
me writing forever
about you
& our desires,
this love
in my verse.

Alarm clocks
are not friends,
they bark and
they scream.

I dream of your mastery,
the way you use your lips,
such a precious mouth
kissing my sensitivities,
bringing stardom.
You really know
what gets me good
& with your sweet finesse,
those gentle nibbles,
the kingdom come
Good Lord,
power stroke.

Traces of beauty
still linger
on her sullen face.
I am told,
those malachite eyes
& high cheekbones
one mesmerized
all the men.
But now, nicotine
stains her fingertips
& Jim Beam
is her constant friend.
I wished I had known her
in a previous life,
before cigarettes
& bottled-boys
took her down.

I was told
words
are the windows
to souls.
Well
if that's true,
then what
are these eyes
revealing?
Why is there a space
of white
below
my irises?
Please
tell me.
Why are they jet black,
like coal?
And is that a comet...

The crescent moon
smiles
above
the barren trees
at me
overtaken
with loneliness.

I listen
to water
stream over granite
and weep
for her love,
what we
once
were.

Gentle waters
lapped methodically
along the shore,
swirling wisps
hypnotized
as ancient drums
rippled my spine.

I heard the crickets
rub their sacred-legs
between the papyrus
& saw the crescent smile
in its dark glory,
protecting the land
of the pharoahs.

Shadow skin
hangs on me
as I blend
into your flowered wallpaper.
You've walked by me
a thousand times
without any whiff,
not a single sniff
of my intentions.
I hold your precious life
in my deathly-hands.
But I let you live,
you beautiful creature,
because, because
I love you.

Inhale her fragrance
Gentle kiss circular twist
See her excitement

Driving my Ferrari,
I wrote this ditty
at over a hundred miles per hour.
Feeling the power of your
hot **** words,
I shifted into turbo overdrive
while slamming letters
on my cell phone,
maneuvering between
the slower traffic.

With an effect like that,
I know you are hotter
than the surface of the sun
& I'm intoxicated
with only half
of a pretty picture.

Her kisses
melted
me.

Nobody ever kissed me like her.
Nobody &
I miss her.

Signed,
Nobody.

She grew up near cornfields
& rolling fields of wheat,
a serious dreamer.
During the Summers,
she'd sit out on the back porch
to watch the sun set
with her constellation guide.
She did the same thing in Autumn,
the Winter & Springs, too.
And one day, she just disappeared.
Some people say she joined
the Gemini twins,
others say,
she's somewhere
beyond Perseus.
I believe she rose like a Phoenix
and hides within Virgo.
But in reality,
nobody really knows
where dreamer girls go.

I have no cares
in this life,
do not
if you smother me.

For I,
I want to drink
from your well,
experience the delta
more than the air
I breathe
you,
O you!

She had no idea,
was probably totally
******* clueless
what she did to me,
using me for such selfish
wonderful behavior.
Christ, she treated me like
I was her savior
savoring me.

My whole life it seems
I've been trying
to piece things together,
this love of certain sensations,
craving for sweet acts,
my attraction to primal tastes.

And it feels like her
beautiful disease
has lingered
with me
my whole lifetime.

O yes, I'm afflicted,
addicted to her ways
& I have yet
to find a cure
for my burning desire.

There is no way to describe
the part
of the initial disappearance
other than to say
it's breathless
watching my reemergence,
glistening with you like that,
repeated
again
&
again
& again
& again
to fruition,
the exploding of our raw senses.

I'd love to write an epic,
dolly it up with romance,
tell another heart rendering story.
I'll sprinkle the word tears in it,
then say something
about being shattered,
somebody treating me
like a token.
No joke,
it will be epic.

She is elusive,
stays hidden
deep inside her head,
battle-scarred,
damaged from being trampled,
a prime example of the meanness
of hu-MAN-ity.

But I still see magic in her eyes,
she cannot hide it,
no man can squander magic.

No need to recreate
the wheel.

Just deal,
change things up a bit.

You'll spin better that way.

I'm inflight watching
an old flic,
"The Matrix"
on the overhead screen.
There's a dude snoring
& some chick
eyeballing my lunch.
I have a hunch,
none of this is really happening.

To regret
is to err,
forgetting to
be human,
a vessel of love,
unbridaled passions,
we want to share,
of which,
I have none
to regret.

We wore rebelliousness on our shoulders,
frisky pool-hall junkies with high & tights,
cracking skulls was our nature,
warriors straddling the edge,
for in a moment’s notice
we could be whisked,
whisked away into harm’s way
& harm takes no prisoners,
neither did we.

Ross was good,
Part-Choctaw, Part-Saskatchewan,
he'd sniff the air for his direction,
could spot a pebble out of place,
understand broken twigs.

He loved to work at night,
backtracking was a skill,
garroting his specialty,
he had fourteen dings.

Part-Celt, Part-Heinz-57
I understood similar things,
my notches stand
at just under ten.

Beauty left in a fade,
washed out from
vividness to pastel,
then blank,
devoid,
whitewashed into
nothingness.

The blank canvas
stares back,
his eyes search the heavens
for answers to
universal mysteries.

And somewhere,
rainbows arc,
a sun sets,
the moon rises
and a wild horse runs free.
The lone artist desperately
paints bleakness,
not even a single tree.

She said,
"Before you get in my britches,
you'd better fly,
give me a gold coin,
tell me how beautiful I am."

I replied,
"Honey, you're beeeeuuuutiful!
Here's a gold coin.
Sorry, I can't fly, but
I'll start taking classes next week."

She smiled,
winked, and
walked away
with my token.
Guess, that wasn't good enough......

It's a place they go
'cause there's
nowhere better to go.
No fires are allowed on the beach,
no people live anywhere nearbye,
but loud tunes are prohibited after 9.
Like ***.
The theater has closed
& the bowling alley
went bankrupt.
The ******* cops are corrupt
& just love to hassle the kids
hanging out with
nothing better to do.
The establishment,
our status quo,
has created a living hell
for these so-called miscreants
who are the children of our neighbors.
It's like they pull love out of their *****
& hand it to them in spades.
Jesus Christ, back in the the day,
we had it made in the shade
played hard
acting innocent.
And now there is no shade.
Shamefully,
the younger ones
get burnt...become toast.

Nothing is better
nor as sweet as
strawberry shortcake.
Its sugary coating
covers my tongue
with succulent flavors
while its slices of fruit
explode in a
wholesome taste
inside my mouth
and the cake
crumbles into
a hundred pieces
all over my face.
Nothing is better
nor as sweet.

I wear my emotions,
my battered heart
on my unrolled sleeve
& now that you know
my Dear Lady,
not one,
not one,
not a single one
comes for free.

Time stood still,
for but a brief moment,
the world was mesmerized
by yet another inhumane
act of terror.

And when the
smoke cleared &
the rubble fell,
we swore allegience
against the devil,
not Allah.

Plain & simple,
there was nothing sacred
about small-minded,
selfish bearded-men
with virgins on their minds
flying jets into the Twin Towers
loaded with humans
working to make
ends meet.
Nothing.

I love her sweet pearl
It is the ultimate treasure
Her parted soft shells

You swallowed me whole.
You took away all my pain
& I called you home.
Full circle is too cliche
& I know,
I know
I will never,
never lie beside you.
Not even in my fairy tale
this time.

Suddenly awake
Blood is flowing through granite
No touch here but mine

I rumbled down the highway,
usually after the fear of
intimacy would hit me,
it was time to move on.

It seems so strange
how something so feared
is what we crave the most.
How could we ever **** loneliness
when her ally always wins?
That is the eternal question
pondered throughout the ages
by the sages & lovers alike,
seems many have not  found,
the solution, any answers yet.

Maybe it's slaughtering that pesky,
that sneaky ego who always
seems to crush our common sense,
another friend who seems so rare,
one not rarer than true love.

We saw hundreds of human skulls,
bleached,
lined up in in neat tidy rows
amongst the dunes.
Each had in bullet hole
right in the middle of the top of their heads.
We figured each person was lying face down when they got the fatal shot.
Then they were left dead there,
fully clothed,
to rot
in the hot desert sun.
They say,
what you don't know
won't hurt you.
But now that you do know,
do you feel anything?

Bent over,
she screamed
for my delivery.

Next came
the burial,
my leaning,
deep shots.

Then
came the milking,
her loss of leg function
& the licking.

She loves the smell,
me the tasting.

Now, we're pen pals
in space.

Freedom ain't free
& you want to know how I know,
I know 16 guys who left their body parts
all over a foreign desert
in countries
without freedom.

Spin me,
engulf my flame.

I will
melt your flower.

We will
taste
nirvana.

She covers my wanton face
with her passion,
and riding me like no tomorrow,
she swallows my whole pride willingly.

Sometimes it was easy,
like a cake walk.
They'd sparkle green
in the moonglow,
and we'd light 'em up,
mow them down.
All the technology
in the world
could not
drown out
their screams.
That was hard.

It's a quiet sacred place,
deep in the oak hammocks,
way beyond the pine flatlands
& cabbage palms.
There I commune
with the crows
and the crickets.
And at night,
a bullfrog symphony plays.
The mosquitoes,
*****,
and armadillos
come out to play.
It remains sacred,
but is not nearly as quiet.

The revelation came to me
in a dream
& I screamed,
but no words
came out,
the shout tapered
off into the cosmos.

I realize
this place is not my home,
it's a space
I occupy
until
I'm gone,
this song ends.

Father was a stand-up guy,
everybody liked him,
he could tell
an interesting story
or dance to a funny joke.

O but Dad had his faults too,
honor & honesty
weren't any of them.
And neither were
a hard work ethic
or love of his family.

He was smart though,
made it all the way though college
after growing up
in the school of hard knocks.

But despite his strengths,
I guess he had
two great faults.
His gullibility
& the belief in
an adulterous woman
until the day he died.

Dowson wrote,
"They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream,
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
Within a dream"

And at this stage of the game,
I think,
I think I believe him,
screaming for more,
more tender-love
& more,
more
euphoric-drink.

a bit of a grimace
some tension
a glance
a little nod
quick-positioning
a hiked skirt
pushed pretty lace
paydirt
squirt
back to work
smiling

We have a possessed person at work.
She talks incoherently
& spins around in her chair
like a crazy girl.
Forever using the Lord's name in vain,
once I saw her floating to the restroom,
and it wasn't on a broom.
Flies seem to hang around her desk,
her breath sometimes smells like *****
and she has an aversion to crosses.
When you put all those facts together,
there's no way you can deny
the devil's inside her.

She poured through me
like the rush of a warm desert-wind
& we moved as if
engaged in a fine ballet,
sinless,
dripping
our sweet-sweat
in a cascade.

Our kissing lips
made the most beautiful sounds,
skin slapping skin
& the mutual exchange
of our tasty elixirs
reverberated
off the walls,
off the walls
in a room
we made love.

Often I think of Billy,
with his great white eyes
& his tats,
arms full of grinning devils,
scorpions & pentagrams.

He was a hellacious gunner
& he loved to use the kabar
& we missed him
when he rotated
back to the world.

Often I think of Billy,
with his great white eyes
& his tats,
arms full of grinning devils,
scorpions & pentagrams.