Was I just token
& do you
really like
to see me broken...
...hey,
dreamgirl,
why can't you hear me?

I could bust out my thesaurus,
write beautiful complex-words,
confess my infatuation,
expose my soul,
give you my heart,
but why complicate
things that are
actually quite simple
& feel so pure.

Endless droppings,
the bleedings of broken hearts
swirling down
onto parchment
for posterity.

Yet in reading,
we see similar things,
patterns of ansgt,
unwavering,
unchanging,
seemingly
forever.

And constantly
we're told,
"That's the way it is."
And we believe them,
picking up, carrying on,
it's the "Same 'ole, same 'ole."

And we remain,
still alone,
always wondering
why
we never learn,
why we
yearn for something better,
something that
may not ever be.

Why not escape this trap
with these walls closing in.

The after effect
of those deep inhalations
was as if time stopped.
I stepped out
from the lava lamp light
& into the brilliance of the kitchen
to fix myself a chicken salad sandwich.

I had never noticed the green tile in there before,
it accentuated the granite countertop,
brought out the grain on the door,
made the place look tranquil.

When I got back
to my beanbag chair,
I was sandwich-less
& wondered if I had actually
eaten one or had just
dreamt about it.

Then I noticed the lava lamp
was in full eruption,
it made my skin
look like the surface of the sun,
the walls look like hellfire,
and my sweetheart
a hot goddess.

When I awoke the next morning,
I knew I must of had some fun,
my stash was gone,
the *** bottle was empty
& my babe was asleep
buck naked,
wrapped up tight
right next to me,
which no joke,
meant I had toked up a storm, probably got drunk
& said **** Don Juan things.

Well you see,
she doesn't smoke or drink,
why else would
she have stayed with me?!

The keg had been flowing for hours
when I spotted you on the foyer,
your sienna eyes locked onto my hazels,

O boy, it was an instantaneous attraction
as well as a reaction, everything around us
seemed to disappear, nothing mattered,
not even the small talk we tried to engage in.

We said something about fresh air
& floated into the great outdoors.
You were'nt even my date, but
we acted as if we had been
friends & lovers forever.

Autopilot was engaged on the beetle
as we drove off into the cool night,
oblivious to all surroundings but us.
Golden earring was pounding out the vibe
that was quickly developing within us,
rust never sleeps was next & we both
fervently confessed there would be no fight,
no fuss, no muss, as we both wanted to *** up each other, smother ourselves in a warm embrace, spread some love & grace.

The parking spot under the street lamp
was the perfection spot, an awesome location
for some lovely-*******. You were sizzling hot, I mean smoking, got my motor burning,
scorched my heart with the proverbial desire.

Your pretty face spoke volumes as I traveled
along your sweet-contours with my kisses & delicately searching fingers. To my surprise,
you wore no ******* which increased my posture & within what seemed like hours, we made our juicy-connection in several various states of intertwining bodies.

The German designers are brilliant,
as the capsule-sized VW is the most intimate
space on the planet.  It is just the right amount of room to lock onto eyes, spread beautiful thighs and taste delicious cherry pie.  We were streaming into each other as it dawned on me all at once why so many people own bugs, it's a tight place to make a special deposit & they're cheaper than a Porsche.

They'll walk all over you,
won't give a **** about you,
or even care for your emotions.

And when you think they might,
they'll continue to
make your life
only more difficult.

So, why trust them,
unless of course,
you just like to fight!?

Why weep,
who promised us anything
& at the very least
a rose garden.
And when one thinks
of all the shattering,
those smashed heads
& toys
lying in rubbled-streets,
it's just enough
to crack a smile.

Everytime we went
skipping stones
you wore
wildflowers in your hair.
They accentuated
your pretty face,
spoke volumes
of your inner grace.
Breathtaking.
Every man loves a lady
who wears
wildflowers in their hair.

Mornings alone
are the hardest.
I lie awake,
full of amazement,
pointing toward heaven,
and I wonder
if it will ever
come down
on me again.

People come & people go,
they fade in and out,
change like the lunar phases,
from full to a new moon.
Some are like white phosphorus,
they glow brightly,
get your immediate attention,
then the spark dies out,
but not without
burning
the hell of you.

It's 5 a.m. & I think
I'm going to go
pound the pavement,
feel the breeze on my face,
the sweat run down my back
& hear my knees crack.

But, I'm just lying here
contemplating,
should I run around the block
once, twice, thrice,
or wait until the
sunrise of tomorrow
to decide over
another
sweet-tasting donut?

Yum...

I'm haunted.
I'm not sure if
it was my childhood
or broken love
or battle
or a million other things
we call bad luck
that's doing it.
But I can at least write this.
I'm on my knees seeking
good karma....for once.

Summer love
is hot like
bold salsa
and Winter love
warms my bones.
Spring love is fresh
like organic-fingers,
the taste is quite
intoxicating.
I am always
Falling in love,
seeking fresh air,
her sacred wind
to fill my lungs.

Under the darkening heavens,
cool winds endlessly blow
across the Nile,
between the sacred pyramids,
the sphinx lies in silence,
a testament to wealth & power.

Standing alone, I witness
the spectacular setting of the sun.
Ancient voices hum eternal tunes,
seemingly lost forever in
the mysteries of the universe.

At once I am overwhelmed,
feel a true connectedness with
Pharoahs & the countless stars,
twinkling their message
under endless dunes.

Uncanny stillness
Icy breezes chill to the bone
Full moon radiance

Lifeless trees beckon
Sunlight kisses their branches
Squirrels peek from nests

I have sensuous
visions of us
constantly floating
around in my head.
I see me
kneeling behind you,
buried deep
in another dimension,
gripping
your sweet hips
& you,
O you,
those primal sounds
make me crazy,
you in full bloom,
split,
receiving my all.

We've heard it before,
something about this day,
this day being the first day
of the rest of our lives.

I hope I can make it worthwhile
and not keep repeating
the same mistakes I made
all those other days
in my past lives.

I downed 3 IPA's
in this college town
& messaged my muse,
she seems to be
a wonderful lass
& I imagine having her
in every ****
compromising position,
from the buff,
to wearing them
**** lady things.

If she really knew me,
smelled my cologne,
& never wanted to be alone,
I think she would
love to have me
come over
to seed her
on a regular basis.

I dislike the easterlies,
as they carry
the sound of traffic
into the solitude
of my meditation room.

It's times like these
when one wishes
for horses and buggies,
simplicity to return.

I breath deep,
hoping
for some of it.

You peek from under
the prettiest head of hair,
thick like your accent,
heads twist,
almost break,
when you willow by
the gawkers gulping java.

You have the rare magic
to stop the wind
wanting to pass through
your lady-essence.
Stardust trails your way,
such luscious curves
memorizing those behind,
you have them trying
to read your mind
with your kind
radiant-eyes.

And me,
I wait with anticipation
as you float right for me,
opening the door to
your workplace,
wishing it was your heart
instead.

Somebody told me once
stars twinkle
when the angels smile
& shooting stars occur
when one dies.

I guess,
that's why
we pray
& wish for the best
when we see one fall.

I wish I could run
my fingers through your hair,
smell your sweet precious skin,
kiss your honey lips,
feel myself buried
in your delicious thoughts.

I close my eyes,
squeezing them tightly
& my mind visualizes
you here with me
here in my bed,
where I lie alone
naked & dreaming.

I can't find my sandals
& I want to walk outside
on the deck
to smell the conifers
& there are spiders on the deck
& the Lord knows
I am scared of spiders,
but love
the fragrance of trees
more than fear.

Wish me luck.

Behind dried carcasses,
pitch-eyes watch
your every move.
Swirling incense wafts
between the
open doors of the market.
Trinkets abound,
magical spells
sold with effigies
of chestnut and tin.
For just one Boliviano
you can wreak
havoc on your enemies.
For a few more,
you can purchase
a love potion
that will make her
swoon for you.

I awoke
during the witching hour
& felt her presence.
A full moon
creept dim light
into my room
revealing
a ghostly
feminine-apparition
floating wantonly
above me.

I was terrified,
unable to move,
felt an icy grip
as this ****-spector
lowered itself
onto my lap.

Immediately I rose,
became scared stiff,
lying on my back
meeting the earnest demands
of this sensual-fiend.
The tempo increased,
the rising and falling
of this ravenous-being
was reaching an
******* level.

On and on it went,
hellbent on satisfaction.
I lay dripping with sweat,
breathless,
pushing my
hips harder and harder
into the air,
filling the
midnight visitor
with my hardness.

Simultaneously,
the ticking of the wall clock
stopped as
I exploded
a steady stream
into the shapely-mist.

When I finally
opened my eyes,
the sensuous-spirit
had fled,
disappeared
into the dark.
I was totally alone,
but the presence remained.

Outside, I heard
owl hoots &
something
howling at the moon.
That's when I remembered,
she said she'd haunt me forever,
come back and do me right
during the witching hour,
in the middle of the night.

And, I can most assuredly tell you,
there's nothing frightening
about these nightly hauntings.
In fact, I crave them,
every chance I get,
I look for ways to conjure her...

I witnessed a shower
late last night,
saw six falling stars
& made some
quick-wishes,
kissing you
in my dreams.

Guess, I'll see what happens
with my fingers crossed.

I want to
swallow your organism,
taste your bacteria,
swim in your virus,
catch your disease
& become viral.

I am consumed
by your fever.

Stimulate me
with ****-symptoms,
split me
in you petri dish,
mutilate me,
break my cells
into smaller molecules,
help me to succumb.

Take me over the top,
bring me to
ferocious-******,
one without a cure,
leave me
forever wishing
for no antidote.

There is nothing like the sweet
blossoming of a pretty flower.
So spectacular to watch
in her full splendor,
the unfolding of soft-petals,
tantalizing,
mesmerizing & radiant,
she is the artwork of the gods.

And how can a mere mortal man
describe such a sacred fragrance?
A primordial blend
of raw musks,
intoxicating &
delicious,
the succulent flavor
shakes the very foundation
of one's soul,
it stirs my heart to madness!

Such a sensuous elixir,
her matchless taste,
so satisfying,
so pleasurable,
it warms my inner core
right down to my very marrow.

And who can think about tomorrow?
For at this precise moment,
I long to swallow her
pleasing-moistness
with great earnestness,
a zest,
a drunkenness
prepared for me
by the arctitects of the heavens,
the universe of love.

And I should be so gentle,
to protect & to pamper,
to cherish her &
be careful not to crush
her magnificent-beauty.

For such a wonderful gift
is not for me to squander,
lest I wander
alone
for the rest of my natural life,
perish brokenhearted
& emptyhanded,
without a single flower,
held between
my tender fingers.

She's an angel in her own right,
she never fights me,
& loves it when
we connect,
visit the other angels
late at night.

Every time I lift her hips,
she winks & bites
the corner of her full lips.
It's the cutest thing,
watching her face
enjoy the sacred-moment,
raising up, cupping herself
while I point her toward
the heavens, a place
we call nirvana.

And from
every direction & angle,
we melt together,
glide furiously
into another dimension
blending our souls,
& explode with
the other angels
in a fiery sensuous-spirit.

Lines of oranges & reds & pinks
crack the blackened-skies
to bring us
another day
of existence.
As the warmth
of the morning star
permeates the cold,
she makes her arrival
in grand fashion
& brings us light.

The beautiful burning-disc
will make her rounds
yet again,
hurling supersonic
in light-year distances
not in kilometers
nor even miles,
those feeble attempts
by human-minds
to quantify the sacred.

For we cannot
be measured,
we are sacred
beyond all galaxies.
And as she continues,
continues to rise
into the heavens above,
my eyes burn
with the tears
of endless oceans,
a witness to her simple love.

Last night
in my neck of the woods,
I witnessed the death of six more stars.
Falling like lead &
glowing like the sun,
I watched them disappear,
get snuffed out quickly
into the darkness.
Of course,
I made my usual requests
& wished upon each one,
yet again,
I'm still wondering,
asking,
"Should I stay,
go,
or wait
for more to die?"

Meandering streams
have cut deep chasms
into solid jagged rock,
disappearing
skyward,
up into
the Heavens.
The tinkling
of occasional goat-bells
& the twinkling
of a million sacred lights
soothed the soul.
Stars so close,
as if you could reach out
and touch them.
A brilliant night sky so beautiful,
made you realize
the sacredness
of this glorious creation.
If it wasn't for
the nocturnal copters
with their infra-red
computerized machine guns
ripping up targets,
you would think you
were experiencing nirvana,
not witnessing
such deadly devastation.

It landed for a rest
I suppose,
then out of nowhere
sprung two red ants
who grabbed its toes
on two seperate feet
with jagged mandibles.

You should have
witnessed the struggle.
They tumbled & turned,
spun & rumbled
end over end,
but the ants would not let go
until the wings of their prize
stopped.
And they eventually did
(& not without a fight).

I watched the killer-ants
slowly carry
their
family meal
back into the forest
on a tiny trail,
oblivious to the rest
of the dog-eat-dog world.

Dad's been gone half a decade now
& I still remember
him lying there
in his bed
with me crying
while he was giving up the ghost
& when I heard his last breath,
I was the witness
to his death
& I wonder,
how many I got left.

There's nothing like it
so early
on a cold winter's morn,
born in fields so far away
& brewed perfectly,
just the right temperature,
a release of blended spices,
invigorating,
so soothing
it goes down nicely,
warming the inner spirit.

I even licked the drops
that rolled
slowly down the sides
of my empty warm cup
wondering about you,
what you like,
your own cup of tea.

They have all the killing toys,
those mighty oaks,
not as smart as they think they are,
we have masses,
lots of us,
carrying tiny axes,
ready to collect firewood.

It's what we are,
you are my dandelion,
I am your honeysuckle.
We are two flowers
swirling,
twirling,
dancing,
spreading seeds,
the things that flowers do,
words,
that's what we are.

Show me your dark side darling.
I am driven
by this hopeless devil inside.
Let my incessant words
inspire you,
like your appeal
does me,
relentlessly.

I've blasted my way
across the entire universe,
a member of a special operations team, we take no prisoners,
leave a wasteland behind us.

Once,
I stopped an alien invasion.
I single-handedly destroyed
an entire nation of grays
from taking over the planet Earth.
I was a hero in the cyborg wars, too.
I blew apart all of their starships,
& even unwired their motherboard.

Last month,
I defeated a whole fleet of pirates,
used my sword to cut body parts
& whack bearded-heads,
sunk a lot of their ships as well.

In fact,
every opponent
I've ever faced,
I've left belly up,
stone cold dead
behind my closed doors.

You should know,
I'm better
than vinyl-filled air,
I have real teeth,
moist lips
& a mouth that really kisses.
I'm warm to the touch,
my fingers are slick
& how quickly they can work,
but not as slow as my hips.

Oh, the noises I make
are real, too.
Such loving-sounds,
not just squeaks
& I don't leak.
Well, not air
anyways.

I hated to lose you,
I built a world around you
& when it came
crashing down,
I lost everything.
except your pretty eyes,
they found them
in a relish jar
under my bed.

O Miss Queen Bee,
let me slip inside
your honey,
I'll give you a buzz
you'll never forget.
Sting me!

I want to slip inside your furnace
& collide with you,
feel your ions burn.
If you only knew
the fusion
we could create,
you start my cooling rod
& start our meltdown.

I have visions of you in my cubicle
standing over my work
& me behind you,
standing over you,
checking my work
& we get nothing accomplished,
but rapid fireworks.

I have visions of you,
sitting at work,
wearing that cute
striped black & white dress,
bored to death & fidgeting,
I dream about those
rose-colored *******,
my favorites,
the ones you push
to the side
& now
I cannot hide
my own reactions,
fidgeting with
my tight blue jeans,
rearranging my work load.

You & I
can be royalty.
A king & a queen
building castles,
tearing down walls,
bringing peace,
feasting on each other.

I can comfort you
in the finest array of dress,
caress your mind
with the things you adore,
show you more
than just one kiss.

And most certainly,
I'd be remiss
if I left out love
in our world of wars.

O, your Royal Highness,
my liege, my huckleberry,
please pen me something
full of sweetness,
laden with tenderness,
spilling gentleness
about
you & I.

I've been beating the pavement
for what seems like three lifetimes.
And now, I have big holes in my shoes,
its getting time for a new pair of runners.
My boots were thrown out years ago,
right after I lost my soul in Memphis.

Love & kisses is what I got,
that's it & another pair
of worn out shoes.

We floated on
a sea of clouds
hovering over
checkerboard
greens & browns
& spots of blue.

I watched
dots
traveling
to and fro
on endless ribbons,
people
living out
their lives
in steel.

And I wondered
if they only knew
we were
way up here
above the clouds
in the jetstream,
would they wave?