I heard the jet right above me.
Oh the sound of airline travel,
I wish one would take me away!

Something's got to give,
we can't keep
going on like this,
your resistance is futile
& I am so ready
for your uprising,
for you,
to take me to nirvana.

Inspired By Amanda Goodnesses 11 Things Poem*

Take nothing for granted.
Nothing.
For each & every star,
every single twinkle
in the brilliant sky above
is somebody,
once we loved.

So don't forget,
don't ever forget,
to kiss them today
& let them know
how much you care.
For tomorrow,
they may not be here,
they will be above us,
suspended in the universe,
somewhere
amongst
the millions
of galaxies
twirling.

And when you cry
alone at night,
wishing & thinking
of them
& how much you miss them
& how special
they truly were,
you'll kick yourself
in your *******
for an eternity,
until your own
star-rising,
for taking them
for granted.

So go ahead,
like I already said,
take nothing for granted,
before it's too late,
kiss them today.

I needed to know her better,
so I slowly slipped inside her spirit,
'till both of them rested against
her moist skin.

Thus, began our dance,
our sweet rhythmic romance.

When it's this deep & trance-like,
you know she understands you,
'specially when you free-flow
your own personal thoughts
like the morning dew.

She whispers to me in the darkness
to take her & I do,
my fingers trace her side,
her sweet hips I grip
& gliding
we spoon
she sighs,
glistening
with her moisture
I bid her
an excellent morning,
explosively,
she takes me too,
accepting.

Eye-to-eye hugging
Perfect tilt to succulent lips
Eyes closed tasting her

I remember her distinctly,
she wore green flannel & cargo shorts,
Che cap & a stuck sunflower,
her braids exploded from under it.

She was proud of her antler-handled side knife
& jump boots, traipsed around
like she was on the nature boardwalk,
I heard she stalked Sasquatch once.

That girl was
the consummate outdoors woman,
she knew all about trapping,
skinning & first aid,
could make water
spring  from the ground.

Her grin was infectious,
a true aura of love hung
like dander around her,
her sensuality screamed
silently from her twinkling eyes,
the color of azure.

I was with her for one summer,
then I moved out of her sacred-valley.
Every time I look at the stars,
I remember her campfires
& the times we spent
at Moondipper
in each others arms
tasting marshmallows.

I face the wind
& licking my parted lips,
I taste her on my tongue.

Swallowing her rain,
I am refreshed,
satiated.

I get tangled up,
tangled up
in your glistening-web,
pulling strands from
lovely-petals to hardened-tips,
stretching them
over the head of steel
& onto my own lips
to taste
the scrumptious-taste
of a gorgeous
tempting spider.

Like warm
Jello shots
covering all spaces,
traces of me
on your pretty face,
licorice
imaginations
so tasty,
you're smiling.

I gazed upwards toward Heaven
& never once did I think about oxygen,
smothered by the sweetest flower,
inhaling your summer fragrance,
I swallowed your soul,
your tasty soul
& you stole my heart
forever.

Frozen-tundra
bitterness seeps deep,
breaking brittle-bones,
as tasty-spittle forms
at the corners,
slithering down
like wet snakes,
eager to inject venom,
with no cure
'till the summer thaw,
you kissing me.

I used to know all the angles,
but I get the feeling
you can teach me more,
allow me the pleasure.

I am a true lover
& come from a long line
of traditionalists,
believers of the leaf-faith.

I live in their spirit
day & night,
from Yunnan
where the gold is harvested,
down to Kenya I travel,
then to Sri Lankan rainforests,
to sip the Sinharaja black brew.

I visit the czars with Kusmi,
stay with Earl Grey a bit
on those misty eves
& on some chilly days,
I relish a nice
mysterious Chai with spice.

O yes, you dear fellow imbibers,
try some Golden Monkey
& a hit of Lapsang Souchong,
PG Tips & a hot cup of Sencha Uji.
It'll certainly hit the spot,
tonight.

And at the rising
of the morning star,
tomorrow,
gently down Red Moon.

Everybody's in a tea-mood these days.
At the moment,
I prefer Chai,
but the greens are still my favorites.
I love white monkey
& silver rain
in my pottery cup.
There's nothing
like a warm demitasse
& the comfort
of spinning
a prayer wheel,
watching the flags
fluttering at base camp
below Heaven
with my good friends.

I counted
the pitter-patter
of incessant drops
on my tin roof
and at once,
had a revelation of you,
you crying
and praying
for a true love
to come back
your way.

I read somewhere,
there is nothing new under the sun,
and in contemplating that idiom,
I realized how so true!

Who of us knew of such deep-wisdom?
Us forever searching, endlessly re-creating the wheel
on loves now lost, those long walks in forests green we did take,
waiting for a breath of sunlight to break the canopy.
O bygone days, when we scurried unknowingly
as if we, we the intruders, were the first on Earth to cry?

So let us depart my dear friends,
my dear lovers.
Let us, the keepers of rhythmic-words,
continue on, to scurry to and fro,
let us love, let us kiss,
let us feel another scourge of a broken heart.
For in doing so, we will discover again,
we will feel the humanness
of nature’s flow,
so true!

I looked at her,
and the way she
wore her scars.
I watched her,
and the way
she moved
so graceful.
And immediately,
I was not scared anymore.
She made gratitude
roll from my eyes.
And in my saline,
I tasted tears,
tears from my angel.

She struts serpentine,
moves seductively,
floating across the room
with nothing on
but white flowered-lace.

O Sweet Jesus,
she knows her reward!

So why,
why oh why,
does she torture me
this way?
Why.

A weird amplified feeling
has come over me.
Everything seems more intense,
streaming prism colors
move like zephyrs
across my cell screen.
There's a fingerprint
jumping off the mirror
& now I know why
I'm in love
with modern technology,
it tells me things,
talks to me with
alien wisdom
& I feel,
I feel more connected.

She says
"Tweet me!"
Christ,
I can't even do
an Excel spreadsheet.
like
how's that going to work?

Simplicity is listening
to the winter winds blow,
walking to the 7-11
to have a slushee
on a hot summer's day,
kissing & holding hands
under the stars
during a cool autumn eve
& planting a vegetable garden
in the spring.

So soothing & so real,
these things make
living
a great big deal.

Tweets & twerps,
listening to
digital synthesized
voice recognition,
utilizing
automated banking,
constant texting,
od'ing on xbox games
& having super duper
super computers is
technolife.

Enough confusion
& complexity
to drive you
totally insane.

Jesus,
what thick
gorgeous
long hair you have,
you're beautiful.
Oh your crystalline-eyes,
what heart stopper thighs,
I crave your tender *******!
Sweet full lips
like tender roses,
I can taste,
you can kiss me
forever,
like no tomorrow,
always darling.

O babe,
there you go again,
holding yourself like that,
up in the air,
fishnets & lace,
hiding your face in the pillow,
your gorgeous hair
sprawled all around,
& making sweet sounds,
as I temper
my sword.

Nothing turns me on more
than you lying there,
playing with my cobwebs
strung from your peaks
& in those
hot intimate-moments,
we string
tender tales of burning-love.

I never really liked
the taste of tequila
or the soft bloated-worms
drowned
at the bottom
of the empty bottle.

In fact,
anytime
I found trouble,
it was under the reason
I liked it,
it made me forget things
I'd rather not remember.

It's so circadian
these long lines,
with the aroma of strong coffee
wafting between
the frequent flyers,
gate numbers & times
being barked incessantly
over invisible speakers
loud enough
to shake heaven,
to keep one alive
in this world.

We killed a whole
herd of goats once
just to bag one bad guy.

The supersonic fighter
dropped a million dollars worth
of destructive-ordinance
to chalk up
another number
on the terrorist
most wanted list.

Sadly,
with all the goat blood trails
and splattered guts,
we never could
confirm the ****.

Beans and hot chilies
Packing a mean spicy punch
Wait for the odor

The only thing tranquil
in my life,
are the words I pen.

Other than that,
everything else
is moving
at warp speed.

Thank God
for poetry,
otherwise I'd be
mad.

We came to the ice wall
in gale winds,
a forty-degree slab
glistened in our way.

Scree stung our faces,
beards frozen with snot,
we wondered if anything
sacred even existed
in this Godforsaken place.

Six-hundred meters
of free fall was behind us
to rock bottom, time
was growing short,
we had to move quickly,
before we froze our ***** off,
literally.

So there we went...
straight up the wall,
swinging our axes
like wild men
with clubs.

*****
*****
ka-*****.
*****
*****
ka-*****.
*****
*****
k­a-*****.
*****
*****
ka-*****.
*****
*****.

Breath.
Ahhhhh.
Brea­th.
Ahhhh.
Breath.
Ahh.

Whew,
thank God for
these ninety-dollar crampons,
we couldn't have done this
without them.

Silence is not golden,
it's lead
& drags you down.

You feel impure
smoldering in the kettles,
bubbling,
waiting for the hammer to drop.

My head lies
on the anvil,
my heart
not steel
anymore,
listening to hollow wind,
I'm crying.

Zace crooned something
about rocking her gypsy soul,
back in the days of old.
I get it man.
I get it you rocking crooner,
I feel as free
as I'll ever be.
And I feel that way,
everytime
I rock her soul.
She's that hot.
Thanks Zac.

Crystal azure beads
of collective DNA,
she wrapped herself
in trademark-mink
& dwelled in Helsinki
doing the Bond-thing.

She hugged the circle
with Velcro-fingers,
stood larch-tall, singing
a frozen siren's song
under the midnight sun.

And beneath her cold exterior,
was the warmth
of a million fireballs.

O Dear Woman,
you sacred-gift,
that sweet-sound
we make!

You can try to deny it,
hide it, not abide in it...
but, when we get like that,
when our bodies intertwine,
unwind & tighten, connect,
create primal-friction,
they cascade our flows,
echoing the throes,
our *****-passions
off the walls
of seclusion!

O Dear Woman,
you sacred-gift,
that sweet-sound
we make!

Things are going
a little insane again,
it's getting time
to commune
with my good old friends-
pigeon & crane,
a little bit with cobra
& oh that dog,
he really gets down,
that wonderful dog!

Words can only do so much,
they can stimulate the mind,
but I want to feel real.

I crave your skin on my skin,
I need to hear you whisper
secrets in my ear,
I will free-flow
my own dreams
deep inside into you,
let's taste
our sacred mixture
run
     down
my rosy-cheeks,
while you kiss me.

That would suffice!

I admit,
I'm naughty
& I'm nice,
too.

I claim not
to be a prolific writer,
I just can't stop
my creative mind control
over these itchy fingers.
O please wake up
& come back to me,
my restless soul,
I'm scared.

I thought the dude was joking,
I mean he was all tore up,
crying like a newborn baby,
as if the apocalypse
had arrived early.
He bawled so much,
it took me nearly ten minutes
to get any answers out of him.
Evidently,
somebody on his Facebook page
had 'defriended' him.
Good ******* grief,
this guy's thirty-eight years old.
Like, really.

A crisscross breeze
nips
me
gently.

I can see the way,
clearly
they have come
for my resurrection.

Under twinkling stars,
the incense swirls,
its glow tip smoldering
into the heavens.

And here mortal,
I sing sacred songs
& spirit-drummers chant
while the ancients
ghost dance.

I just know
the animals speak to us
in tongues,
you can feel it,
like the ancient prophets.
Go outside and listen
to the singing birds,
those croaking frogs,
that dog barking in the distance.
I swear they're trying to tell us something.

I love the beads.
you know the ones
I'm talking about,
formed below your button
& Darling
when you hold yourself like that,
you must know what it does to me.
So prepare,
prepare yourself
for your anointing,
I know you love them.

When she sings,
I imagine
walking through
orchards of apple trees.
Do you know what that's like?
It's delicious,
how she moves her lips
in perfect harmony.
Oh, it takes my breath away.

Written words can
reflect the inner soul.
So beautiful & mysterious,
they conjure
raw,
vivid,
powerful images
of the writer.

And so emotive in their tone,
it's like being on
an astralplane phone,
one can listen to the
single beats of your heart
through your letters
you contrive so sweetly
& get to know you some.

A stack of unread books
teeters, hovers
over the squeezed tube
of triple antibiotic gel
resting on my nightstand,
lying right next
to the empty cup of white monkey,
sitting on a Heineken coaster.

My electric blanket
is plugged in,
set on #2, while
my head rests
on stacked pillows,
a cool breeze floats over me.

Bastet keeps me company on papyrus
along with the raised canine
under the glow-painted
Milky Way, where
I weave stories,
minglings of half-truths
& real fantasies.

I get tired of loving the hand
& use my finger to
spread some if it
in verse, wondering
why my head buzzes me so,
or if a single soul can relate
to such an asylum,
my sanctuary.

She had a menacing gaze,
piercing-eyes
like an alley cat,
came from
two hoods over
near the Ballymun flats.

So I understood,
it wasn't too
hard to explain
the serpent that slithered
down her **** spine
& the flaming-skulls that
rolled up each arm.

It was the two angels,
one inked on each blade
that confused me.

They guzzled gallons of tequila,
screamed obscenities
at the rising tides,
saluted the splashed milk
covering the pitchest sky ever.
All was well,
the swelling was magnificent,
such nubile queens.
They scrambled to miss each wave
banging the shore
& I swore they kissed Heaven,
naked like that.
The morning brought Armageddon,
it was a nuclear zone
of sweet bodies.
I never saw such beautiful damage,
nor will I ever forget them either.

I want to go on a jaunt,
hunt up her backbone
with my beagle nose.
I'd like to stop
along the way
to lick her chops,
before I drop
on top,
howling
at the moon,
between her stars,
panting.

The trail stretched serpentine
above the azure lake
with the rising sun
beginning to peek
just above the horizon.
In that beautiful place,
I walked along
in solitude
with my heavy pack
surrounded
by fields
of endless beans.
And in the early mist,
two tiny
smiling children,
silent,
swiftly
passed me
with overflowing baskets,
destined
for the market,
and you,
and me.

The hallway
in her castle
was certainly nice,
but her arched back
was more regal
as she lay
so beautiful.