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Hurricane
The world is bleeding
with a bag of dread covering each head
each head covering itself with
the spoils of existence that magical
that magical connection
to silver slicing minnows golden streams
silver elixirs the margins of life
are bleeding so hard they say it's coming
from many directions in different manners
pickin up speed and we can see behind it
where it was what has happened
what has happened they say
is a grave mess an anxious hole
an anxious whole
whaling its way starboard
wailing its way heartward
a ball of conscious light has turned
dark grey rays stream from its heart
center is colder and growing
center is cold and growing
Pensive
This is not the work of
a mercurial artist
No swift linguistics here
just a slow tongue
slapping the sides of the
jelly jar
worm or eels
squirming around
sloshing the vowels
understanding the
incomprehensible
is an easy day in the sun
don't think too much
unfurl the spirit antenna
open the radar umbrella
Words can be
the string of pearls
worn to impress or gather in
the luminescent sensuality
of agreement or admiration
they can fill a singular locket
then lock it away
or they just hang there
a pendant of thought
a vertical precipice of vernacular
waiting to fall from the lips
like ice chips
or cherries
either way
holds the communication
Riding In The Sidecar – For Charles Bukowski “Magical Mystery Tour”
I am very tall
With streamlined breasts
Alabaster and flawless everything
Long stretches of elegant thigh
And eyes
Translucent horizons
With clear reflected glints
Of topaz and olivine
He is taller then me
His chin is strong
Broad in the shoulder
Not thick anywhere
Aquamarine eyes fine and soulful
Right there
At the window of love
And essence
Midnight shocks of tousled locks
And lips
Oh and lips
He leans in to listen
Hand on my knee
Warming me on many levels
Ponders my essence with curiosity
Eyes on my eyes
His ease his sincerity his caring
Are authentic and in the moment
I breathe him in
We drive and love the driving together
We find all that is simple and tasty
We are enthralled by landscapes and sunsets
All the natural elements come alive in our presence
Animals sweetly approach us
Together we have made a good beginning
At righting Eden
We can stay together anywhere
And be home
Anywhere we can be
We are home
With each other
He does not exist of course
Except in the mirror
In the glass
In the book and the song
And the poem.
American Poison
Slap jab
flag it and fly it high
These are the miseries
furled up anger
unfurled and snarling
the vicious backwardness
of their low country hate
crawling around
beneath their balls
We grow em here
feed em ignorance
the dumb beget the dumber
their world is flat
and filled with jism
and jeremiahs
They have captured every camera
they have been given
their 15 minutes on a platter
with a head
a gun
and a flaming sword
No one has a better market
on terrorism
then acreage filled with
men who hate everything
the have nots
who have not flashed their asses at their mothers
but think about doing it
when they slug down some beer
Sometimes Nothing Is Better
She thought she saw something there, in his eyes. Something so deep and profound that it swept over her like an arid sirocco, a blaze and a blast of intuition and "I get it". He picked up his sweating glass filled with amber and froth and slid the liquid quickly down his throat, adam's apple priming the peristaltic pump. "You say no, you didn't but your eyes give you away". she said plainly, the surge of her truth making her fearless. "What the fuck Sheila" he said turning towards her, his lips ugly and red wet. " You're crazy, you know that" he continued. "If I'd sleep with anybody it wouldnt be her". He took another swig from the glass, clenched so tightly in his hand she thought it would explode. "You're fucking nuts" he tossed the ugly remark at her like a basketball. "Besides" he went on "Don't think I couldn't get someone else". He ended it there. The conversation expired like a car crash victim. She felt thrown under the bus, 25 years of marriage and this is the chapter just before the demise. Sheila sat next to him, but her soul was leaving her body, moving backwards, away from him, anywhere but next to him. Her body remained on the leatherette stool, sipping at a thin straw. She saw it in his eyes, but what did she see? What did she feel now? Denial, hope, sadness and the same old vibrating anxiety flooded over her now that the new reality was finally here. She sipped at the thin straw, slowly. She tried not to make a sound. Sound would shatter everything even further. He just kept on drinking.
Stock
"Sheesh! Semiconductor stocks soar" says Sam slowly and sadly to Sally, sitting in the sales aisle stacking short squat stacks of salad dressing, squinting strongly as she set seven atop seven. "Shit!" Sally sprayed her singular sound towards Sam, salivating strongly with sarcastic sentiment. "Shit!" Sally sprayed again.
"Seems strange so many stocks we saw as surely slipshod have soundly succeeded" Sam states succinctly, slapping Sally's side soundly. "Stop that" Sally snorted, sidling up to her supervisor Steve" "Slaps seem silly, but such salaciousness should stop." She simultaneously stroked Steve's shoulder as if to strike home the short strength of her statement.
Scared, Sam soon spoke. "Sorry Sally" he stated. "Seems I started something sleazy." "Sincerely sorry, so sure semiconductor stocks would slip...so strongly sure semiconductors would sink, not swim. So simply stunned by successful stocks I supposed
sincere sentiment should suffice. Side slapping seemed such a sensual statement. So sorry Sally" Sam said.
"Stupid Sam" Sally slithered her skin and soul straight towards Sam's startled selfhood.
" I savor your strong sentiments, you are saucy and satisfying. Let's share some significant, well seasoned sex."
"Sam almost shat his pants." Shalom.
Amnesty
Almost strapped into
This hard beast of a seat
I enter the afternoons
Delirium
With thoughts of speckled eggs
Hummingbirds pulsing through
Sunlight energy
Isn’t it enough
I gave myself on the rack to you
Victimized my soul
Buried by the paws of a scented dog
Denied and stuffed and denied
Wide open possibilities
Far from the cradle
the scrub brush and the hairbrush?
There’s no telling how far it will go
Or where it will end up
It is endless and talking over
Lines that have snapped
is impossible
Drenched in nature
My drug of choice
Stars circle inside my head
Drift down towards the pineal
Sparking and releasing something
So full of hormones, molecules,
magic
And oblivion
Possibility and prison
And the clock
tick tocks
Marching music for the malady
Of the grinding soul survival
Memorial Day
And I know my limits
exceed the dreams I bear
Like scars into the cemetery
The great graphics of
the American flag
The 5 radiating points
emanate invisibly from the celestial aspects
The Bars
Red and straight
White and horizontal
Match up and flutter
on those tiny tiny remnants
of the free life
I drag my dreams
Across the cemetery soil
Past the granite markers
of those who have soldiered on
Everyone here has been
Shot through by something
Lived through conflict and laughter
I reach the one I want