T’was planet X that passed one night
Giving the people awful fright
So bright and red
Knew we’d all be dead
And somehow that’d be alright

It flew with glowing red horns
Early one bright springtime morn
Symbolizing death
Like children on ****
Or married men looking at ****

Sending comets and asteroids to earth
One large one took out ole Perth
So many have died
And the ones left just cried
As if we had all been cursed by Firth

For years we felt the debris
Like in autumn the falling of leaves
But these always burn
And we never learn
To at least try to hide under the eaves

So humanity faded away
Over the course of 200 days
Life came to an end
From the original sin
If only we had known how to pray….

I thought I knew the way
But it was not the case
I felt lost the whole day

Looking out the window in dismay
Trapped in my head-space
I thought I knew the way

Clasping hands, pretending to pray
Slapping my own ugly face
I felt lost the whole day

Accused of acting overly gay
Just trying to keep pace
I thought I knew the way

Is there anything left to say
I have abandoned the race
I felt lost the whole day

Perhaps things will get better in May
Fleeting hope, there is a trace
I thought I knew the way
I felt lost the whole day

she looked down at the dog’s cancerous paw
rubbing again the medicated salve
produced from politicized plant material
and a little ole American knowhow
a slight grumble escapes his floppy jowls

the ever-present battle against carcinogens
as, daily, we breathe what fukushima offers
and drink fluoridated water
while pesticides may as well be considered
a nutritional supplement

she reaches down and pats a greying head absentmindedly
from 68 lbs. back to 110
one year and seven months of cannabis oil
has given us a new lease
on an old dog

visions of my mother in the end-of-life care facility bed
stuffing pounds into capsules to grant life
falling short when it was needed most
four months and 12 days ago
I couldn’t do for her what I did for my dog

she takes the old man out to the field adjacent our home
he runs and bounds
stops to munch grass
and roll around on the green he cannot see
the green rolls around in my head
as I cannot see either

yet another savage tragedy
ravages, emotionally,
the trap queens in bandages
screaming to their bae’s
about the vastness of calamities
blunt tips glow showing smoke blown
extensions flowing growing tired of
liars on the youtube
seeking gifs and snap-chat
besties to wrestle
with the cultural festivities
being given proclivity
to policy lunacy –
smart phone glued
claw hand and shrewdly
planning to revamp the system
with hello kitty ***** twisters
and metrosexual waterfall trips…
it’s truly a pip
these auto-tuned post baby-boomers
no relations to crooners
thinking the sooners are only
Oklahoma….
My youth tirade
is partly a parade
like a brass band on Burbon
playing unafraid –

realist, with a degree in sociology
looking at the world through macro glasses
fading empathy blending with budding apathy
watching, eagerly, the self-destruction of the masses –
expressing limited worldviews, and exploiting generalizations
keeping a firm grip on perceived reality, teaching free classes  
operating from a place of conscious co-creativity
helping friends and loved ones experience piece of mind, free passes –
guiding meditations, past-life regression
all the while getting brilliant psychic flashes
reaching deep within the recesses
beginning to tilt on a totally different axis –
envisioning my place as part of the all
knowing the truth will alter the facets
looking into the mirror of creation
recognizing the forest of trees as ***** eye-lashes –

t’was darkly in the winter morn
before the sun’s rays were born
before the sheep were set for shorn
before the maids had milled the corn
I heard a noise from upon the step
reminding me of a traffic wreck
or when ole uncle slipped off the deck
woke in hospital with a broken neck
I jumped on up from my bed
with legs and arms just like lead
a face with anger, colored red
but a sense within akin to dread
t’was just ole Santa on Christmas night
reindeer dancing with delight
the feeling escaped me, the one of fright
and instead I thought, “I must check my sight”
I’m near 40 and of no Christian ilk
there is no tree, nor cookies and milk
yet here I am in pajamas of silk
standing eye to eye with a mythical elf
large red nose and twinkling eyes
just like in the stories I thought full of lies
looked him up and down as if for size
and leaned down placing my hands on my thighs
needing for a moment to catch my breath
thinking I may be quite near death
or that this was some flashback from LSD or ****
when he spoke I could only hold my breath
“you’ve been quite good or so it seems
so here I am to haunt your dreams
and give you gifts with ribbons and strings
but mostly to remind you of other things
like somethings you will never understand
there are concepts that live quite out of hand
and dimensions that exist without air or land
and a cosmic joke with no real plan
you’ve gotten to wrapped up in esoteric visions
forgetting to experience this life you are livin
so this be the best gift I am given
here are the keys, you’ll no longer be driven”
and with that bit of fluff he was gone in a flash
leaving me to quietly stroke my moustache
and tighten the rope on my wintery sash
when it hit me like lightening with a blinding loud crash
I was now free to do what I please
Santa had gifted me the ability to see
I breathed in the ocean and exhaled the trees
and fell to the ground on my hands and my knees
good ole Santa Claus had done showed me the way
a way to live and know just what to say
the ability to leave behind the dismay
and recreate myself anew each day
I went back to bed feeling renewed
no longer needing validation or food
gone was the desire to be sarcastic or rude
truth be told, I was still going to need the food
but the point holds strong and the meaning’s the same
a change took place that altered my brain
taking me from a place unhinged or insane
and leaving me safe with no need to place blame
yes this is the year Santa changed my life
gave me a gift that near matched my wife
offering a change from a place of depression and strife
to one of hope and love, of joy, and of life
oh Santa dear, how could this be true
I was one who never believed in you
like a pagan, a wiccan, Satanist, or Jew
or the little old woman whom lived in the shoe
but from henceforth and on every new day
I will think of the night that you came my way
appearing through the fog and the snow that did spray
changing forever the meaning of Christmas day –

Just beats on amazon prime groove train taking my mind
Unwinding inside the ride I applied tide and sideways glanced at a passing fancy
Take a chance on me and see the reality of freedom in an American slum war vet bums with their hair in buns growing hipster beards for fun better run to the PX and demand *** from reckless transgendered
Next step Freddy Fender Tejano  rockers walls crashers in bobby socks fighting ***** behind the block building wielding cash money slinging organic honey skinning bunnies on a sunny Tuesday
The blues swaying my body as I rocksteady the cracked Levey with a disheveled teddy bear in tow
Can’t touch this flow like the raging river goes and a runny nose when the allergy shows if you didn’t already know MCDJpjs can still touch his toes
Homeboy I am limber yoga instructor over for dinner Charlie sheen style winner and I grin with a thousand watt smile

meandering stream of consciousness
flowing this way and that
without substance or context
just fleeting images of fantasy and memory
veritable hodgepodge of indiscriminate
out of the blur solid ideas begin to take shape
formless visions develop hard edges
as I slip deeper into the ether
aided by copious amounts of
ingestible cannabis  
and the belief that I am one
with the universe –
long dead relatives guide me
down pastel paths of cotton
as we float through and past
holographic pyramids
still stained from blood sacrifice
travelling faster and with purpose
tracers elongate
giving the illusion of streaming ribbons of neon
stretching in all directions
geometricizing the skyline
reminding me of the chemtrails
back in reality –

where is my country going…
I remember thinking it was silly to say the pledge
standing behind my desk
hand over heart
mindlessly repeating phrases that had no real meaning
to an eight year old sensibility.
It is easy to recall the small logging town
with its white population
shaking angry fists at the owl people
bearded and free in their environmental fervor
chained to trees
where we liked to fish.
Those blessed with political mindedness
have sold their moral and ethical compasses
to the corporate welfare and personhood gang
giving the populace the shaft
without **** or sweet kisses.
I watch my country fall apart….helpless –
Long lines surround the peephole
and the citizens of America clamor
near riotous
to see what the celebrity flavor of the day
is wearing, doing, being,
and having
subjugating themselves to emotional slavery
for the sake of a starlit.
Gone are the communities
in which a child is spoken kindly too
by a stranger diligently working his or her
plot of ground;
today he is accused or premeditating *******
for being personable.
Feelings of discontent rise like bile
burning my throat, and giving the back of my mouth
hot spit…a precursor to *****
as I watch another liar
step up to the pulpit of power
and spout propaganda
designed to manipulate my personality
into a more malleable pawn
in this nation of despair.

A rose, pre-bloom, gives rooms a swoon
with June looming we ‘true-lovers’ croon
to whom we love like the singing loon
on ponds, far below, during foggy dawns.

Her lilting song travels on light gusts
a dusky hue with wafting musk
silhouette sits still in the opposite dusk
while fawns nibble delicate fronds.

A valley beneath wreathed in mist
gentle breezes distort and twist
two geese entwined in a lovers tryst
float along blowing jazz sax songs.

A fox awakens to the sounds
to the ponds edge, down and around,
he hunkers low to watch them drown
in broad strokes he follows along.

The ensuing gloom sends the loon to soar
as she can stand to watch no more
blood and feathers find the shore
a fox, engorged, yips his song.  /

finding myself struggling with twenty-seven years
the magic number until I can retire
seems a thousand lifetimes away
and how will I ever stay in one place that long…
for near forty years’ worth of days
I have floundered between part-time
and joblessness… some of it as a ******
some as a young adult trying to find my way…
pondering solvency, monetarily
I consider my real options:
theft leads to jail
hard work leads to hard work
401k’s and retirement planning
are often stolen by the greed of the 1%-ers
bailout for the monopoly kings…
where is my bailout for living in America for this long?
who has been diligently investing in my trust fund?
why is this what ‘making it’ looks like?
answerless questions lay piled on the floor
some hurriedly jotted on napkins
others tattooed on my forehead
none ripe or ready…
I know I can keep on keeping on
I hustled ****** for ten years
….but I want it to be easier
I desire to bathe in bling
and throw hundreds out the window
yelling about how much I don’t give a ****
….but for now, I will just get up to my alarm
wash my face and hands
and play slave to the machine one more day

Is it wrong to want to write hit songs
smoke from bongs while wearing thongs
move the throngs into song
about long dongs and walking along beaches…
what is the problem with tripping with dips
and nipping buds while ripping joints
flipping skirts and dripping squirters
primping limp ***** in front of debutants…
it has to be alright to fight the right wing blighters
near sighted and mighty with Jesus
high on tea leaves and asking why can’t **** victims
just have the baby at night
tis their plight….
Aghast, I blast past raspy voiced smokers
Flashing my press pass at the ****** masses
I lash lasses with pizazz on the bleachers
preaching all the time about reaching for Zion
screeching teachers speechify
addressing lecherous miser’s
bent by societies plyers ….

sunlight creeps from behind intermediate cloud cover
above the stratocumulus, trails crisscross
giving a geometry to the affair
a barley discernable silver thread
reaches out from my belly button
and stretches into the heavens above –
feeling myself fall backwards to the ground
I am simultaneously...instantaneously
shot, as if from a circus cannon, up
recognizing my three-hundred sixty degree field of vision
I helplessly watch my body fade from view –
surrounded in ermine fur softness
and basking in a warm orange light
I visit the cosmos
travelling beyond relativity laws, universes collide
birth themselves and form life again
all the while a nagging distracts the journey –
strobe light ****** inside a mirrored room
flashback acid trip melted Datsun at sunrise
fathers body, emaciated and lifeless
wall of flesh filling double French doors  
not a crack or fold to be seen –
cold dog nose pushes my hand and brings my back to what we perceive as real
smiling to myself
I think about the amazing things I will see when dead –

icy breath sends neck hairs
to attention
frozen bleakness takes the shape of
crystalized dew
speckling the wall
twenty feet high solid concrete
concertina wire decorations
‘tis the season –
holiday bliss as reminiscent prisoners
wax nostalgic
and shift sad eyes when discussing
dry turkey
with beaten and battered cranberries
logistically, the state could not afford
all the trimmings for 3000
so donated feast materials
get the highest of praise –
raising toasts
to over-bearing guards
as the time of year
transcends fear and mere hatred
together they spend another Christmas
inmates and officer
blessed in an un-holy union –

sagebrush and juniper
with the occasional tiny yellow blossom
sprout without fear
in the drought stricken desert
touting new growth despite
the Sun’s best efforts
and the total lack of precipitation –
granules of wind-blown granite mountains
give way underfoot
leaving misshapen footprints
near faded remnants
of an old rattlesnake shed
strewn delicately over
last year’s deer tracks
preserved in a landscape
that exists outside of mankind’s time –
Did Louis Lamoure ride though here?
Was this a secret cowboy stomping ground?
Off in the distance comes a noise though the underbrush
slow and methodical
meandering
one lone cow steps into the sunlight
as we lock eyes
the buzzing of insects fades
I lose track of the surrounding foliage
and consider,
“What a cud he must chew!”

~



If I gathered all my bags
packed them lovingly and with care
folded neatly shirts and pants
taking extra precaution to carry spare undergarments

If I wrapped my toiletries in tissue paper
steam-cleaned the toothbrush
collected equal miniscule amounts of
toothpaste, shampoo, and conditioner
all medications labeled
deodorant in a special container  

If I had all the reservations and plane tickets
pre-paid
my printed confirmations with my wallet and cell phone
bags shipped ahead so nothing could be misplaced

then,



would you take me to


                               funkytown?    /

moldy socks stuck to the grime covered floor
hold my attention momentarily
lost in thought, scrambled
I wander from room to room
looking for misplaced memories
pictures of you in the sun –
retaliation against the bloodbath
leaves the young admonished
sent before the tribunal
judged by skin tone
and pronunciation of hard vowels sounds –
enraged caged beasts cease peace
fleeced pieces of feces resist change
instead hardening and shedding color
petrified putridity permeates the ponderosa
floating on a sea of geologic waste
the sandy shoreline smiles at the scene –
endgame fascists brooding over equality talk
sit Indian style, calling it “criss-cross”
so as not to offened
wait for the moment in which they are able to **** indiscriminate
those deemed less or inferior
pancake batter dried to the edge of fine china
dog hair gracing Chanel handbags
**** in frocks frolic in the farm fresh
air
for pennies –
***** jokes dot the comic strip
leaving children confused and aroused
immorality gains traction
with its studded tires and studly physique
sturdy in its placement
stable in the den –
awash with idealism
indigents scrap infected scabs
looking under for answers
finding only diseased blood –

purple Lupines
create a foreground effect
below glistening concertina wire
as the morning sun shines down
the prison in April blooms forth
despite itself –

goslings, tan with black spots
stop traffic
forcing recognition of nature
in a place void of hope
springtime blessing the groundskeepers
and those fortunate enough to have been given yard time
blue skies only corrupted by chemical spray –

        laughing inmates break my concentration as a pigeon lands on  
           barred windows
               a cool breeze creeps in diluting the stale air

education floor buzzes with activity
as forgotten men seek to become more
better
different
I sit encouraged by light bulbs –

crackling radio signals the line movement
round two of handshakes and polite jokes
another hour and twenty minutes of magic
I quietly sit back and smile at the scene laid before me
no student has more fire for education
than a man who thought himself less than nothing

election cycle returns
and the returns are in
no one gives a ****
about economic downturns
or pacific trade agreements
built to further gut
the Amerikkkan dream
Honey Boo-Boo lost eight pounds –
wingless welchers tirade over lost causes
causing the public to collectively *****
only racial injustice strikes cords
or the ever popular threat to children
outside of that, the general consensus
is to give the Dugger ******
a second chance –
guns for drugs
bombs fall on Bagdad
homosexual agenda
the imaginary scourge
melds with marijuana laws
giving the conservatives pause
but only until the Letterman finale –
sightless masses spoon fed by multimedia
millionaires
much maligned in the middle
misrepresented and mismanaged
mean well
but they have given over control
to the television set –

new dynamic enters the stratus
something shifting
triangulated attitudinally
sitting on a chesterfield
brushing away lint from grey trousers
thinking about ending the lollygagging
and crushing despondency
with action akin to space flight
energetic tingles transform
particulates blend and restructure
transformer style
before unknown element
lose in society
beaconing children and religious
to eat of the space fruit
Orion’s apple
the pope wants us to be open to alien religion –

~




after they were kicked from the garden  

and begat nations with the children of man

I found you in the desert

    we wandered hand in hand for an age



when they sacked Troy

when Rome fell

when Christians became the power

I found you in the northern mountains

   we sailed strange seas

          discovering lands before unseen



when a plague brought the darkness

   and inquisitive priests carried branding irons

I found you in the forest

where we shared boiled roots

and healing herbs



when disease ended paradise

and oddly colored faces filled with hate

massacred cultures

destroyed civilization in the name of god

    I found you deep in the jungle

        sleeping on a soft bed of giant leaves



when tubes fell from the sky

and exploded with the power of the sun

as bodies were carted away

       burned in warehouses

I found you in an alley

we hid in laundry baskets

        until liberators showed us light still existed



I found you in a shallow delta

            with terraced patties as far as the eye could see  

found you again in a protest

          as we marched across a bridge for freedom



I will always find you

     no incarnation can keep me from it    /

cramming lifetimes into weeks
pounding 5ths of Jim Beam for 8 weeks
jumping to **** for a minute
then onto the LSD
all the while bathing in ****
wannabe thugs on drugs –
Lil Pauly stepped out of the apartment
slid into the CRX
offered up a dose and a ****
it was Tuesday afternoon after all
balla status without notoriety
only the ego fed insanity of
white entitlement sprinkled
with the arrogance of youth –
the truth is we were lucky
no one died or did hard time
we walked through the height of addiction
basically unscathed
battle stories unmatched
as we left each stone, ****** and alone
now, grown, our roaming days have ceased
we chat of old days
knowing nothing would send us on a month long ******
except maybe the change in wind direction –

same ***  train wrecks effecting perplexed Texas housewives
who’s lives can never be the same again
they fearfully place toddlers into shopping cart jail cells
and whisk them haphazardly through produce islands
and cereal box displays –

     broken bottle beneath the battered bed wetter
          bending back before brackish beer bests him

She runs up and down crowded streets in a frantic tizzy
smeared eyeliner explains the due date is really just a number
and that without help
surely
they will take this precious bundle of joy –

     fast asleep in a drunken coma only the steady sound
          of deep unrelenting snores can be heard throughout the concrete tomb

with a tiny human perched precariously on a calloused knee
tears of resolute frustration fall on flower print Capris
holding in one hand every form of ID the state offers
and in the other, a forehead –

each day brings more frightening imagery
compounding hate and bigotry, free press
humanity cannot survive under such duress
the wall writings tell a simple tale needing to be heeded
there is no winning a race war on American soil –
blacks attacked will eventually fight back
and tear down any vestige of the status quo
leaving those of us with fair pigmentation
to bake and rot in the late summer sun
this, of course, barely placates the new power –
too far gone down paths of racial injustice
has America travelled to tout itself as the land of the free
from mistreated natives, land stolen and treaties broken
the poor Japanese citizens placed in concentration camps
more than two-hundred fifty years of my country
abusing, cheating, prostituting, and disenfranchising
the men and women who built the nation that hates them –
I find myself with a growing concern regarding our direction
daily, news outlets give fuel to the most dangerous of fires
working with super-human diligence and verve
they impart violent propaganda to impressionable children
babies with access to bullets, beaten, battered, and beneath
the lines of poverty so prevalent within this culture –
I sit at a dinosaur click-clacking away
behind the glass patrician, inmates of every walk
all quietly working, pencil to paper
fourteen testers with no common heritage
working together for the goal of their education
it is here, in the penitentiary, I see what hope looks like –

Howling wind seeps through the 1930’s brick building housing prison education
Biting cold as the last gasp if old man winter’s breath tries to maintain its grasp
Bundled inmates frantically type in a vain attempt at kinetic energy creation
Plodding ever towards the twenty-five word per minute goal
Signifying they have the required the typing skill set needed to pass the dreaded G.E.D.
Muffled loudspeaker shouts indiscernibly at the masses as line movements are the order of the day

transparent disparages
ensnare carefree societies
implying unreliable disguises
with a flair for pageantry
daring prayer, rare hares prepare
hairy Unitarians to marry
shareholders in gay Paris  (Pari’)
repairing the tear
offering free-range diversity
university perversions revert
extroverted exhibitionists
to airline reservationists
impatiently, first-world philanthropists
**** on lists twisting
the anthropologists mood into a balloon animal
this scandalous tryst helps
black-balled priests insisting
on peace to release persistent
victims’ names to mass media outlets
disabled vets regret investing
as corporate jets rest on golden runways
dark days on the horizon
implying these lies perpetrated
cause an uprising that surprises
those late to realize
the fly’s on the eyes of
poor black children
are all of our future –

meandering thoughts
of creativity for recreation
versus the idea
that art
can be prosperous
self-expression and
emotional depth plunging
for coin and
posterity –
poets only prosper posthumously
for the most part
and soft rock singer-songwriters
are a dime a dozen,
cousin –
validation from within again
as sin and winning blend
a regular trend….
the trees give no applause
or constructive criticism
but are an audience
that sway gently to the soft rhythms –
grumbling old lab at my feet slaps his tail
at the same song he heard yesterday
rubbing a worn nose on my unshod feet
looking for a toe scratch
as we both look outside for validation –

~



The morphine undissolved upon his dry and cracked tongue
Mother frantically grabbing and sobbing
asking 'why' even though cancer
had been devouring him for years

I slid a silver ring off his cold finger
feeling the thin and frail culture
I thought back to massive hands holding wide leather belts
who would be able to discipline me now

More pills swirled around the toilet bowl
everything that wouldn’t get mom or I high
sank and disappeared
I think I flushed my feelings that day too

Fading images play in my mind
his braided hemp cord necklace woven around a tiger’s eye
the black heart earing that I lost almost the same moment
they wheeled his body out into the day
mom collapsed like a dying balloon
in dad’s chair
her red watery eyes looking up at me
still holding the same questions   /

thanklessly the bankers
of Wall Street
meet in discrete fields
just outside of Tupelo
plotting to further victimize
the middle of America
through interest rate hikes
and trickle down economic theory
clearly they only have our interests
in heart…
corporate hedge funds
send tons of
industrial sludge
to ponds near elementary schools
where the rules are
pick up your messes
I guess they skipped that day of class…
rash covered babies
with minimal lung function
sit at the crossroads
or junction
of a nation in transition
the plight of the people is lost
on the wealthy unregulated
impoverished men sit
waiting for a V.A. date
and the medication necessary
to combat PTSD and hold down a job
loggers with broken backs attack
environmentalists
for risking their lives to save
species…the flora and fauna
but the powers that be don’t wanna…
the United States needs a comma –

synchronistic wistfulness
as whiskered bliss seekers twist
in the mist - resisting fists
they insist on listing
that which might bring blistering
like a toxic ring – singing telemarketers
embarking journey, Skylark_Buick
truant Mister simplistically playing Twister
sister shifts the syncopate
and we wait
…………………..
grateful for the break and taking
glitter flake covered roller-skates to the frozen lake
mistakenly banking to sharply
frost bitten carp seems
too dark in the evening
like Marky Mark bringing fresh beats
to a Lou Reed jam on the mean streets
neither much enjoying to eat sweets
but seemingly twin-like between the ole bed sheets…….
……………………
spoke out of turn regarding their *** lives
pretty sure at least one of them had a fat wife
who lived off of bonbons and smoked a chipped crack pipe
…………………
unsure how to end I can’t help but still write
and because words do flow I consider this just right
can you guess my favorite whale? Obviously,

                            the Right

favorite airplane designers
                    
                             ...... also the Wright -

pandering to the lowest common
the red headed ******* brays into the void
faceless masses screech back from the darkness
begging to be fed again, shown light
offered dignity…but this day has not come
instead
the beast feasts on those least able to protect themselves
the laughter follows… --
pretentious preacher gargles wine
claiming the blood of Christ flows within him too
favored and chosen by god, we must obey whatever tomfoolery
this sociopath lays at our ingrown toenails
dried skin flakes away in the warm breeze
as displeased fleas flee the scene
no longer able to **** the impoverished blood
their hunger turns
refocusing
looking to those in power
and them which control wealth gap policy –
reptilian overloads bathe in the blood of Amber alert victims
drinking deep discontent and discord
while spreading disease through dog spit
…… my how the Americans love to give their puppies kisses on the mouth
The greatest nation pays tribute to the false image of evil incarnate
Some give this face to Obama,
others see it in the smile of Donald Trump, me,
I see it in the eyes of the apathetic child
too worried about the new call of duty game
to care if a flag means slavery
or black people are disproportionately shot by cops
to quantify, at my age, anyone under 25 is a child
sorry, youngin…  --
witnessing women liberate themselves so extremely
as to have ***** grown in laboratories
I hope unicorn women are in our future,
with big floppy black *****
surgically attached to their foreheads
this idea will certainly get them through that glass ceiling
as no one will stand in the way
for fear of being thrusted upon
by the new secretary …….
……….
Did I have a point? –

four months and twenty some days
the big 4…….Oh,          as they say
thinking of practically applying
a lifetime of research
for a more complete
version of myself
better to see
healthy 85 –
nutritionally
there are changes
ways in which I could
eat free of preservatives
chemical laden un-digestible
hormone fed environment killers
but that would be just one way of change –
I could also take up some form of regular exercise
once upon a time I was active and healthful
playing city league basketball and roofing
getting my sweat on as a lifestyle choice
now, less and less after the injury
which has become but an excuse
to allow fat deposits
to grow freely
extending
my belly –
it is always
just a choice to make
we all have that special power
to simply choose again, at any time
and recreate or earthly experience anew
this is the big truth the government hides away
locked in secret vault next to Hoffa and the Roswell UFO
humanities greatest gift from the universe is the ability to make choices –
the ultimate question is what, now, will you do with this information
will you examine your life and perhaps make some changes
as I have and most certainly continue to do
can I lead you to a new promise land
in which we all truly live free
it's really an easy answer
a simple statement
………………...
…………….
………..
yes –

Realizing my emotional connectedness,
I lay, flat backed, on rich dark soil
soaking the energy into myself
of the land that birthed me.
Engorged on unity
the song of the larks
speak openly of insect movements
and hungry and crying children;
the slight rustle of a deer mouse
breaks the trance,
only to send me spiraling
into ***** holes with furry floors
and a pile of babies
nourished on mother’s milk.
Ultra-violet rays penetrate deep
and my reddening skin swells
as the cosmos attempts to infiltrate
and expand me beyond my body…
I explode.
Flashing tree bodies blur
as I, propelled forth, recognize
this is flight…
glancing to the left I see feathered wings
beating frantically
altering ever so gently our trajectory
I settle on a nest edge.
Regaining my senses,
I look atop an old snag
to see the focused eye
of the hawk looking back at me,
we share the moment
as we share the forest.

Were I to have a queen,
I would adorn her
lavishly,
South African Diamonds
littered with Brazilian Emerald
and Oriental Topaz,
but I don’t, so I give her
onyx and garnets –
Were I to have a queen
She would dine, exquisitely
Caviar and Champaign
Filet Mignon with delicate wild sprigs
Hand-crafted sorbets sprinkled with fresh ground cocoa
but that is not the case,
so we eat frozen burritos and fruity pebbles –
Were I to have a queen
her fines would be worldly
Chinese silks and English cobbled shoes
flowing lace with ruffled fringe
cotton and satin depending on conditions
but I am just a regular guy
and offer flannel and polyester blends –
Were I to have a queen
she would never want for attention
I would constantly remind her of her beauty and grace
express endlessly my undying love and adoration
offer my hand at each puddle and open every door
but I do not have a queen,
I have a wife that I treat this way –

arms stretched for miles
matching the horizon
head tilted back
blond ringlets fly
little printed dress
caught in her breeze
spins in unison
seemingly infinite …
falling onto her back
a resounding thud brings a giggle
preceding a roll onto her belly
the sun warmed field grass
pillows her gently
glancing at miniature daisies
she begins to braid
long green stems twirl and twist
leaving white petals in a perfect circle
dotted with sun colored centers
careful examination
brings a smile
and a squeal of glee
as she places her crown
delicately on soft curls
princess daisy chain rules the meadow –

frantic fingers in February
frost bitten and fumbling the knots
forbidden fish frolic, unsuspecting
free fresh chum flows from the flower bucket
as foraging future fillets
flounder in the underwater foliage –
fallen leaves create the floor
frog feet rest in the funk
finch feathers float on the ripples
frozen fox prints dance fancifully on the fresh fallen snow field
freely, my friends and I frolic also –

irritation builds
slowly
heat fills my cheeks
i feel a slight reddening
chest becomes partially tightened
and cool sweat coats my back
i catch the eye
of the crybaby *******
her chicken head bobbling
over 4 minutes ……
if it weren’t so trivial
and from such a wrinkly ole bird
i might laugh, or
jump across the table and slam my fist
instead I stew
boil and brood
over her insistence
to mettle in my affairs
like I need a ******* babysitter
poufy hair looking like
a bad wig, or
the explosion of an dingy pillow
yellow and greying
like someone ****** on it before work
…..4 minutes
she can ******* –

a place within
begins, again
to shirk chagrin,
win and grin
the light’s so dim
pushing against the wind
I need a friend
guilty of sin
to buck this trend
of pretending to spend
upending my den
encouraging all-in
yet, there’s no letter to send
or drink to blend
that can defend
acting like a rear-end
my own fat I rend
watching Armageddon
live on FOX at 10
hosted by Morgan Freeman
this has become bland
I wash my hands
and walk off into the sand –