This is not my home,
I feel like I have come here
from somewhere else,
from a place beyond
anything we know.

I can feel the eyes of others
staring,
watching me,
watching my moves
as I go about
my own business.

It's kind of creepy,
the prying &
unwarranted stares.
Who are these people
& where do they come from?

This is not my home,
I am not from here
& they know it,
the nosey ones who stare,
who stare
& mind not
their own business.

I hear the rush of the ocean,
its eternal tune,
crumbling
the castles
of dreamers & playing
a symphony for lovers
at the same time,
genuinely
beautiful & neutral.

It's really quite simple
& not so scientific.
Unconscious he says!
Even drunk,
there is no desire,
absolutely no desire,
to be with
my birth-mother.
Nada.
None.
Zilch.
Quite simply,
Freud was nuts.
Simply nuts.

I dream about tongue travel,
sojourning over the contours
of your luscious landscape,
kissing & tasting,
nibbling & licking
all of your nooks and crannies,
finding all your secret hiding places,
the ones that make you feel real,
the ones that make you feel
totally feminine & ****,
the ones I love,
the ones I appreciate,
the ones
I can't get enough of
you.

I hated those night excursions,
our incursions into unknown territory
sometimes ended up pretty gory.
We tape up our loose stuff
& go creeping,
could slip in anywhere
to set up our killing machinery.
We were way better in total pitch
& not under the full moon.
But it really didn't matter,
'cause we had the edge,
wore strange
looking-contraptions
to see green.
Any movement
was scrutinized
to the extreme.
I'll never forget the report
& sometimes the screams
of the ones who
never got away.

Mark seemed to have it all,
a beautiful wife,
two strapping sons
& he was always out to have
serious
good clean fun.
A hellacious paddler
& consummate fisherman,
always teaching his boys
a higher standard
& fulfilling
his honey-do lists.
So naturally,
it came as a big surprise
when he asphyxiated
himself with carbon monoxide
in his own driveway
during broad daylight.
It tore us apart actually.
At the funeral,
his wife told me he had seven stepfathers.
I never knew that,
but maybe,
just maybe,
he thought he was a failure
when his wife filed for divorce
the morning of his departure,
and he couldn't live with that.
The thought of his own children
growing up like he did,
it must have been hell.
Perhaps
the mystery will never be solved,
but just the same,
all I can think about
is the damage,
the other hell
he left behind.

I want to die clean,
to swallow no bitterness,
lie down with the ancient ones,
right next to the them
in their cold splendor.

I can taste the eternal,
feel their restlessness
below the surface,
now empty vessels,
these dried corpses
speak to us
from another plane.

Do you feel their icy grip,
they are alive,
they reign supreme,
they did not die in vain,
do you hear them calling?

It's dead silence now,
except for the aquarium gurgling.
I can see the colored-lights
& the cigarette smoke is finally gone.
Every single lover has vanished.
The party's over,
I'm going to sleep
for a week
minimum.

It's always like this,
seems to be
the way things are,
like passing
into a dark abyss,
you kiss the ground
these things are made of.

And I wonder not at their amazement,
such anger spews from their mouths,
for they foolishly stay,
such determination,
locked
in prison walls
made of their own doing.

For me,
I don't give a flying copulation anymore,
I am crossing over this time,
heading headlong
into
the outer darkness.

And they,
they will dream about me still,
the harbinger of harsh reality,
the liver of the last hurrah,
now smiling,
so alive,
so ****** alive.

To seek her prize,
I crack her jagged shell,
so delicious,
wrapped
so neatly
between
her swollen folds,
now quivering.

Papa told me never to put all
my coins in one purse,
'cause if you lose it,
you'll be out of money.

****, that was some great advice,
I need to start
collecting
my pennies again.

Turnips & Silver King,
onions & string beans,
carrots & radishes,
lettuce & potatoes,
yellow squash & bells,
the brown eggs
sure look swell.

Honey of all shades,
homemade jams & jellies
& wildflower arrangements
made to glorify God.

People here smile & nod
their friendliness
& what matter
if they have any teeth or not,
they will never be forgotten
for their gifts to mankind.

And if it were their last penny
& you needed it,
it would be yours.

My mind races endlessly,
especially in the wee hours
of the morn,
when all is quiet,
when I lie
alone in my bedroom,
contemplating.

Like clockwork,
my eyes pop wide open
& I visualize sacred
sensual pleasures
of her
lying in sweet repose,
& me
a mouthful
of her pretty flower
curling her toes,
bathed in a flood
of her raw-emotion.

Lord knows,
I'm in love with
modern technologies
& make no apologies
for the penning
of such passions
between her and I.

I think I will
zip line across the creek,
there are some people over there
I'd like to meet.
I smell patchouli
& hear music,
voices giggling
& I think I see
flowers
in their hair
& they're covered with mud.
Surely they are
descendents
of primordial peoples,
look at those dreadlocks
& luscious curves,
young boys
with
their
pretty girls.

O my little darling,
let’s drop by the coffee shop,
we'll have a quick hot-brew.
There's nothing like
a mug of strong Colombian!

Then we can head over to Kyoto’s,
we'll have some platters of delicious-sushi.
I really love the sashimi. 
There's nothing like eating spicy raw-fish
coated with that fiery-hot wasabi!

Hey you girl,
I don’t want to sound too pushy,
but it’s getting kind of late,
let’s head over to my place,
we'll mix up
a couple of slow screwdrivers.
There's nothing like
those tasty midnight cocktails,
I love sipping them,
especially with you.

O you’re my prefect date,
so scrumptious,
so true,
I think I love you!

She was a bit older,
aged like a fine wine,
bubbly & red-hot,
she had stars on her hips,
knew how to push the limits.

I was mesmerized
the moment
she kissed my lips,
I could taste her berry,
it was the perfect Sherry.

I can't seem to think straight,
my moods swing like
bent butterfly wings.
She certainly pleased me,
every single part of me.
I loved her, but
now I don't.
It crushes me.
It's like pulling
the petals
off daisys.
It hurts.
Guess, I love other things
more than floating
on gentle breezes
with her tenderness.
It's safer that way,
less chance of
broken hearts &
bitterness.

I want to love you,
I want to kiss you all over,
I want to coat your lips with my sugar.

But sadly Sweet Darling,
all of the imagery,
all of my creativity,
all of the imagination
in our entire universe
cannot,
cannot
bridge
the pheremone gap
that exists between us.

We rode through the spectators,
pedaling our mountain bikes
as if on a sacred mission.
The pink Tinkerbell wings
flapped furiously on our backs,
leaving glitter in the wind behind us.

Our radios squelched,
screamed,
barked requests
as we twisted & turned,
faced the cool breeze
that splattered raindrops
on our grinning faces.

Of course, our tatted left arms
sported colorful tigers & rainbows,
suns & moons.
But despite our reputations
as gangland members,
all we could hear was,
"Here come the fairies!"
emanating from
the laughing crowd
of disbelieving onlookers.

Plastic tents,
these ******* beeps
and maddening
******* sounds.
Dear Lord,
I want to go home...
but I left my legs
in the desert,
somewhere
near where
the pink-mist
engulfed me.

Some are drunk,
some are sober,
the men unzip & lean
under the Andean moon,
******* their brains out
against the ancient-wall.

Dogs & feral cats
run through it,
spreading stench
& the smell of ****
through the city streets
on tiny paws.

I placed candy-kisses
between
your wildest dreams,
heard you scream
from another dimension,
and with great fervor,
flowed my sugar.

I've been to that place.
The place of the unknown,
where I've been so ripped,
I can't remember a thing.
And pondering what got me there,
I haven't a clue.
Was it pain.
Was it joy.
It certainly wasn't the taste
of rotgut whiskey.
That liquid burns your throat
& makes your face contort
to forget things.
And who would want
to forget happiness?
But it did.

I've been told
there's a place
called Heaven,
where the sea
meets the golden desert,
mountains rise up
& tall cedars kiss the sun.
And in this place,
anise-spirits flow
& pistachios grow
in abundance.
Angels exist there,
honey-flavors drip
from their pretty mouths.
One in particular,
has the sweetest lips,
like baklava,
I am intoxicated.
They sing to me
songs of hope
& I am swept away,
swept away to that place
along Mideastern
shores.

"I will miss you when I go."
Did you know that line is often
referred to as his famous last words?
Word.
"I speak the truth."

There's a place where Martians go
when there's trouble
brewing at home,
it's hidden in the belt,
circles between the planets.

They tune in there,
use sophisticated equipment
to communicate with
their loved ones back home,
sometimes the notes drift away
further into space.

Lately, we've been picking up
increased transmissions,
the amount of traffic is incredible,
encryted-chatter speaking of a
universal movement
sweeping the solar system.

Our radio telescopes are
receiving similar messages
from the moons spinning
around Saturn & Jupiter,
some Neptuneons & Plutoneans
are even getting in on the act.
Activity on Venus & Mercury
is skyrocketing as well.

In fact, the highest levels of
electronically-posted poetry
is at the highest level since
the first interplanetary war
back in '73.

But it's really nothing
to get alarmed about,
'cause you see,
poets are always
restless & passionate,
screaming their raw emotions,
spilling blood on keyboards,
searching for a little
piece of comfort.

And no matter where
we come from,
we will continue
to war with our words,
trying to come to grips
with the joys & heartbreaks
of living through
this solitary life.

I want to taste the sweat
pooled
in the small of your back.
You used to spoon with me.
Is that too much to ask for
Darling?

When you see
the colorful little buggers flying,
it's somewhat comical,
almost amusing,
as if God gave
these winged creatures
the prettiest array of feathers,
the most beautiful beak,
on the planet.
But they pay for it,
it's huge,
it's so doggone heavy
they can't keep
their headsup
in flight.
Well,
maybe that's not funny,
they could hit
somebody
or something,
knock themselves out!

And who will be there
for you
when all the rich
handsome
soothsayers
leave with all their
******* & lies?
Ugly me &
I have
no fortune.

Icy winds blew
along the wharf,
as three men mixed
for a quick conversation,
exchanged money
& a loaded gun,
then dispersed
like the ocean spray.

Later that night,
Davy and Ian were shot
point blank in the face,
with no witnesses
but the gulls shrieking
above the dockyards of Belfast,
a place where some paddies
pay with their lives.

Faces covered with mud,
dripping with sweat,
coated in
blood stained
brain splatter.
Unsmiling
with invisible tears,
fear spoken
in their bloodshot eyes,
wide as saucers.

Once, I gave
a one-eyed beggar
who looked hungry
a handful of nuts
& he threw them
out into the cobblestone street
for the manged mongrels
who scarved them up.

When you kissed me for the first time,
I understood all things.
I became
the coolness of the night winds,
the warmth of the sun
& cicada tunes.
I turned into
a summer shower,
felt the power in lightning
& realized what made my heart beat
for you.

It really doesn't matter
what she says,
most of it is *******
anyways.
She learned it
early on,
when she vowed
never to trust again.
And in that process,
creating broken hearts
became a habit
she thrived on.
She will never change
& they will never be the same.

The crowds always
looked the same
on every street corner there,
people with disheveled hair,
the look of desperation
hanging out
near the local burger joints.
I found it very strange
to see Western
corporate business operations
so out of place.
Like who really wants to eat
a burger and fries
in a war zone?
Maybe it wasn't desperation
& when I look back
and think about it,
it seemed more like anger,
not hunger.

She had 'em all
by the *****,
every single
one of them
wanted a piece of her
& she loved it,
played them for fools
& it was comical,
watching them
wearing their
brightly-colored
pointed
bell-caps
dancing around her...
as if she really noticed
those imbeciles.

Everyday they were there,
like clockwork
they were showered
with candy,
always smiling,
thumbs up America.
Then one day,
we heard the explosion.
It shook the ground in ripples.

Thank God
they detonated early,
before the patrol.

Shortly thereafter,
we left our enclosure
with our full loads.
What a nightmare,
****** carnage,
a horrible disaster.
All that was left,
from what we could tell,
were clumps of their bodies parts,
which included two sets of
bare children's feet.
It was more legitimate proof
of what we called
the radicalization
of the younger generation.

I have never forgotten you
& I will never hold you again,
but the real pain
is not knowing,
not knowing
if you, if you
have forgotten me.
I count the days
in silence.

In this silence,
there are no lambs,
just this buzzing in my ears,
listening to my fears
& these empty lips,
missing your sweet kisses.

There are no stars above me,
only glow paint,
reflecting
real constellations,
the summer skies
painstakenly
stroked there by me,
to remind me
of bygone times,
when
I truly believed
in wishes.

And now
when I gaze up,
I see them glow
without
the real twinkling
or any falling.

They're millions of stars
left in the universe,
still plenty
to make your wishes.
So keep dreaming
on those falling,
at least one is bound
to come true.

Placed on mountaintops
made of ice
& melting under
the continuous rising sun,
eventually the single drop
reaches the sea
& like all of us,
we cry for freedom,
to brave the endless crests,
sojourners
tumbling in
a pool of raindrops,
only to evaporate,
only to do it
all over again.
Surely,
we are blessed.

You light up my screen.
My fingers trace your cheeks,
eyes read your scars,
I kiss the air and
in my mind
know you are there
in spirit,
my dreams.

It's more than just a silly game,
this thing we call love,
heartbreak
& I always go to jail,
while the rest of the world
quietly passes by.

Sheer exhaustion
was my companion last night,
knocked me right out,
pulled my eyelids shut
in nanoseconds.

So deep I fell,
not one dream
entered my mind,
only the sound of silence,
a cousin to rest.

Glued to sticky sheets,
I lay here terrified,
covered in a thick sheen of sweat
& trembling at the very thought
of stepping down.

I wear a huge frown
with my eyes clenched tight,
fighting the urge to laugh
maniacally or even giggle.
Because there's not a **** thing
funny about this serious dilemma.
I am not in the least bit curious
to get up and move either,
not gonna wiggle a single toe.

Oh yeah, you're a brave one alright.
What do you know about their behavior?
Are you my savior?
I'm not taking any chances...
You'd lie here too
if you had
a killer clown
under your bed.

I saw the world upside
today,
tethered
to steel,
zipping on a different plane,
higher than a soaring kite,
I did not fight the speed.

I saw malachites & cobalts,
jades & azures,
a screaming stream,
brilliant
switling
turned-up
leafy-canopies
& a few busted toes.

Don't you know.
Heaven sees us like this....
kissing the sky.

O Dear Lord,
I need to feed
my adrenalin monkey,
who's hanging on my back,
'bout to break me.

What's real anymore,
what hasn't been altered,
things too good to be true,
not as bad as they seem?

Living in dreamy-states
circadian & matrix-like,
we get an inkling
there's got to be more
than just these shards of reality
we create.

And in our search for clarity,
we etch each others hearts
with our words.

There's something **** about Texas.
I'm not sure if it's because
of the rhyming sound it has
or if it's just the letters
constructed in a unique way,
they kinda roll off the tongue.
Maybe, it's the people?

I can tell you it's a big state,
it has rolling plains
as far as the eye can see.
Real cowboys roam
all over the place,
they play with beef cattle,
drive them north
from the Mexican border
to the processing plants.

The cute girls there are tough,
it's 'cause of the drovers.
And though
they might act rough,
I've been told they blossom
pretty, like yellow roses
& are as abundant
as the tumbleweeds,
swirling in the western winds.

There's something **** about Texas.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BIRL_iu3eQM

You wore maroon velvet,
quilted diamonds
hung on the sleeves,
& you sat by the fireside
unbuttoned & glowing,
wearing posies in your hair.

Your stare was magnificence,
iris-stars sparkled azure,
the gleam of the ancients
resurrected our true purpose.

We had come here
from distant planets,
where every star twinkled
a different color,
sacred hues
& we consumed each other
in our own suns.