Ed’s Speak-Easy hides behind its windows
draped and shielded from the sunset west-

-on into morning their unaware eyes
time-glossed in the sun rise east.

I sat in my studio above them,
over nine seasons in solace
never sights, just sounds of
girls dancing in lacy fluffed skirts

trampling glasses and hollow cans
sharp moving heels in heavy shadows
creaking toxins aged and seaped
into hardwood misery

Whiskey shouts and poker faced insults
high-toned energy, rising and fading
explosive bursts of high money
high life, high scheme delight.

I could see their sounds and feel their rhymes,
my blood feeding off their nicotine from
the smoke rise, a cascading surprise
to the carpet fibers rising up the walls
into my webbed lines of breath

Intense
once were the colors
of faded lines
a dark humor, a love, of
another poets spirit
a
salute
to those faded
lines
that transform me.

Painters hands always so messy oiled up
reek of turpentine smoke moonshine
Alizarin crimson streaks lamp black roots
their faces gesso'd to unreality they fan
brushes broken
canvases filled to their brim
much as poets
who reek of  one day's and starlights
mountain peaks they haven't seen
Martini's black in white spaces, coats waiting to attack,
tie up.
With dried up pens, filled notebook paper.

her eyes were blond
a breast of Valentines
awestruck, we was by
*** that stuck out into yesterday and a face that
would make you     kiss her dad,
a friend of mine, stuck an elbow
into my rib and said, she's lookin'
at you. I knew she was.
But, was it because i was droolin'

blue on these windows
   would be red
like a *****'s lips
    ebony would be
dark as night
   scary
pink is effeminate
    green is almost the right
girl
     where do I find green colored blinders to make
human women look as appealing as
make believe
like late at night on the internet

violet is purposed
purple is purposeful

magenta colored eyes with yellow pupils
are what I seek.

I let loose of  inhibitions, became bigger 'n all those Dragons
on hit or puff or snort or swallowed **** or crack
is like inhaling gas then haunting through the night peeps
or stealing tabs from the old lady next door to sell for substances
more enjoyable peruse my *******
life  of using with me
ecstasy was costing me way too much.
I give thanks to god almighty,
I was always afraid of needles, I would have died as sure as swallowing
a slug from a 45 colt down my throat.
I get off on internet poems,
but never deny where I came from.
I hope for all,
to be also free,
from that.