Can You Spell It?

Oh baby it’s okay

I love you for who you are,

those blonde strands of yours

are so beautiful with your tan.

 

So what if you can’t understand

how to use a key in a doorknob,

or get lost between the bed

and the bathroom

to me honey you are perfect.

 

Now you just don’t worry

that pretty head over this picture

just because you looked at it

for three hours and can’t figure it out

its no big deal, honest.

 

So sweetheart, you just keep being

the one that I want in my life

even if you need help

in little things like spelling words

that have more than one letter.

 

Here’s a kiss now off to work.

She gives him a hug,

before her lifeguard

heads off to work

then goes back to her doctorate thesis,

which is a study of blonde humor,

her mate being the only resource needed

to complete her studies. 

One Lump Or Two?

She poured

tea into his cup,

he sips it so peacefully.

 

Passive petite wife

raises a club

behind husband,

drugged brew

the prefect elixir

after finding out

about his affairs.

Come Share My Paradise

Care to be my queen in Camelot

got my own castle made of snot,

don’t smell bad unless its too hot

since i just ignore it by smoking pot.

 

I’ve got so much to offer to the right lady

so sure you’ll love riding in my big pink bus,

even if my past is more than slightly shady

and have some warts that ooze with puss.

 

But I have learned that cannibalism is a crime,

did manage to finish off that severed head

before got caught and ended up doing time,

still need to get rid of body parts under my bed.

 

For the right woman I’ll even give up smoking

do away with my collection of plutonium cans,

plus trying to puff on a liver left me choking,

now happy using eyeballs for my snack plans.

 

Oh I’m sure I can give a gal such a special thrill

with all my heart will I make you so happy,

because meds stopped the spells that made me kill,

yes with their help I’m not psychotic and crappie.

 

Now write to me for a chance at prefect bliss

far away from the things that cause you pain,

in my arms there is joy you not want to miss,

won’t that make up for me being declared insane?

 

Strapped

 

Wrists scarred with crimson lines,

cuts so deep they leave blood on the ground,

the suffering so intense

throat is raw from screams,

but there is no escape

from the constant beatings by hell’s lashes,

an agony that the victim prays for some lethal mercy,

yet it doesn’t come

no matter the moans

that have a raspy death knell tone.

 

In the silence life is wrapped with cut glass ,

insides eaten away by hate’s acid,

how could somebody be so sadistic

and know every nerve that becomes a flame

when aroused by the masterful touch of torture.

 

After sunset the bleeding seldom ends,

nightmares summon the demons

whose putrid and vile images

force vomit from the stomach,

it spills over the naked, bruised flesh,

which the vicious keeper of terror

derives such sick joy

about never allowing to be washed.

 

The body cringes from

all the echoes of macabre memories,

aware that dark will bring

another filet of sanity.

 

And in that hideous cavern

he waits,

ever lamenting his seduction

because he craved to help her need,

never dreaming when he tried to remove her restraints

that she would strapped them on his wrist,

now he pays the price of seduction

unto the gourmet goddess of pure pain.

The Magic Of Golden and Jade

How her luscious lips

lavishly and lustfully licked

the succulent sun and emerald power

of that stiff and thick rod.

 

As her tongue danced

over its smooth flesh,

she slowly let it slide deep

into her mouth,

hums of pure ravenous ecstasy

as she sucked it of every ounce

in its juices that she loved

to let flow down her throat.

 

The heat of summer

just such an excuse

over surrendering to naked cravings

while eagerly swallowing this eight inches,

and then masterfully letting it move

constantly in and out

like she had done on countless occasions

 

Finally the last drop

was drained,

then she gasped from that experience,

never failed to fill her up.

 

For nothing gave her more pleasure

than consuming a lemon-line popsicle

on a warm July day.

Sweet and Sour

Passions poured forth like a river

verses leap from the page,

each line a masterpiece

dazzling as a jeweled thought creation

beyond what any comment can describe.

 

Ah the ecstasy oh the joy,

Shakespeare please stand aside!

Was my thought

from some flattering honey

in a complimentary phrase!

 

Alas, my eyes

have learned a lesson

to thus forever recognize,

how the bigger the contest host's

flowing comment

of such super praising size,

the more you can count

on being trophyless,

despite the ego fueling words

that were obviously just a big fat lie!

Omnipresence

Their everywhere all the time

can’t hide from that all seeing eye,

its hidden in the walls and ceiling,

why it might even be under carpet,

better be careful using the toilet

since they can also observe from inside the tank,

able to detect a snort from a hundred yards,

if you blink it will be know

scratch you nose and it will be filmed

do much else or even think about it

and some night they will enter your house

take you away to someplace

where their omnipresence could still

watch you ever second

from somewhere you’ll never detect.

 

That was Buddy’s warning

unto us who called him a co-worker

he would even lift the lid on the coffee pot

just in case the “THEY” were there too.

 

Oh he was extra careful

always checked his stapler and tape dispenser

for any signs of listening devices.

Too bad in all his being careful

at searching for unseen eyes

somehow he forgot to pay attention

over the boss’s watching

when he would have one of his “fits”

about supposed super secret surveillance.

After he dropped his pants to moon the camera

that the thought was in the hall fire extinguisher

it was decided he would be better off working elsewhere

we heard he went to work for a security company,

hopefully he had fun spying on himself.

MOORED

I anchored my dreams

on a buoy

 

tossed by waves,

created by vessels

headed where the wind inspires.

 

But the sea

never ends

regardless of where they sail

 

so I claim the shore

from a perch

watch the sunset

 

and smile

because only I see its face.

That Blessed Hue

Scent of wintergreen utterly intoxicating
unto nostrils longing to detect
the pure passionate flavor
of cherry blossom tinted cures.

My hands trembling from weakness
while holding that Pepto-Bismal bottle,
just happing knowing soon my stomach
would stop burning once I taste that blessed hue,
which could subdue
what eating some brown greasy concoction
had done to snarl in my insides
into a twisted knot of nauseous sensations.

Leaning against my porcelain comforter
where I had deposited the upchucked remains
from my indulgence,
quickly I swallowed the glorious antacid,
slowly my face changing
until it lost its ashen color
and once again possessed
a wonderful flamingo shade.

The Path Of Oneness

In the quiet the stillness

smothers in heaviness,

driven so far from hearth and home,

echoes of heart sing

from the depth in the soul

of that precious moment

when life was laughter and warmth.

 

But once the solitude chills

inside are clawed by the brisk bite

over knowing if this wilderness,

this frozen passage of despair

summons the blizzards within

and the winter of fate

comes in crushing waves

until one is buried,

utterly absent of hope or help

beyond where any ear will hear or care.

 

Drifts form over the mind

slowly reason degenerates into screams,

will death claim its prize tonight?

 

Trembles flinch the will

as anxiety’s icicle cling to nerves,

body shakes from the bitter cold

while wondering when this path will become a grave

let forever entombed and forgotten.

 

Then as the phobia dogs gnaw like savage wolves,

the imagine wounds somehow numb the worries

over the pain and dread,

within the pioneer rises, the warrior and rebel

together in the oneness forged by crisis

feet move to the cadence of that drum

ever marching instead of retreating

by the memory of past steps

that eventually found refuge from the struggle.

 

Guillotine Tears

my night weeps its blade

of mutilated failures

 

if it wasn’t dull

I would have to live

as if every moment

was waiting for an execution

So You Didn’t Bother To Vote

nobody left to care

who got voted for President

because of the lies and failed leadership

people just gave up caring

what name got into the white house.

 

But none really expected

the Geriatric Crusaders Party

to actually get elected.

 

Now everyone is living

with a Granny as our chief elected official

and a congress full of the same.

Only trying to cope with all the new laws

how they truly tax the citizen.

 Still it is hard to risk

being grounded

then sent to your

over the age of fifty

when the cop pulls your over

then gives you a ticket

for wearing soiled jockey shorts..

 

Might be easy to adjust

if all the bars didn’t have serve just milk

and cigarettes were replaced by oatmeal cookies.

 

Yet everyone is really scared

since rumors are

future legislation

will require use of bunk beds

in every bedroom!

Bigger Is Better

I dreamed of the jewels of avarice

in a diadem set for glory

a chance to taste sweet liberty

among the captains of industry.

 

But college didn’t see my star,

employers failed to appreciate my worth,

still I refused to be denied

the precious pearls of success.

 

Hours spent in lairs of possibility

scavenging among the entrepreneurial citadels

to gleam a chance

at my very own pillar of profit.

 

Oh the liars that I found

who all wanted cash

in order to sell me

some plan for wealth

that always turned into

just another mirage

with a vacuum that sucked

away my joy and cash.

 

But then I met master

one real guru of prosperity.

His wise ways gave me hope

there was a capitalism crown.

 

All I needed was to think big enough

then everything would happen

as he has this vision for the perfect choice

of an product that would capture

one consumer’s need

and give me a monopoly.

 

Now I’m claiming it everyday

while I acted on that vision.

 

[Yep, smoked fish will turn me

into an economic king.

Only hope jaws cooks fast enough

in my fireplace

before those stinking fish vapors in the house

makes me good blind.

Exposed

Should every umbrella

become ripped into shreds

until we truly saw

what was so fragile

spread over our minds

its light would so terrify,

so utterly burn the reality

into our truth

so we couldn’t claw or grasp again

without knowing its consequences.

 

Because all the pain and joy

from our past

would no longer hide,

like villains and mistresses,

only in the night.

Coiled

Twisted steel

curved its gyrations

while descending stairs,

Slinky

always coiled my fascination.

 

Collapse Of A Conquer

Superman swelled in my pillow,

I clung to that power in my dreams

to cast aside this purgatory adolescence

amid a drunken father

and emotionally crippled mom.

 

It was all the hidden

beneath a vault of treasure,

as we dwelled in our tower

our lives attired by reputation.

 

But I was going to be different,

success would be my deliverance,

no weakness would cripple me,

inside existing a super hero

who waited the time to fly.

 

Zealous passions clawed at my schoolbooks,

obsessed in the quest to climb

a ladder to the pinnacle

where unlike others

would I remain a god.

 

Nobody mentioned

how that summit was made of quicksand,

stress would strangle with its own

slow eroding spell of affliction.

 

With bag of gold I told myself

invincibility was my truth,

nothing could harm me,

no other life would conquer my glory,

though I lived there all alone.

 

The game blessed with its garments

even though I only felt pain,

subduing it with drugs killed the screams

at least before the world.

 

Only it didn’t stop the cancer from hollowness

from rotting inside.

How I kept up that illusion

until that day came

when I swallowed up a house

where I family had live,

they left at the eviction notice,

yet their eyes shined with love,

faces had a peace and happiness

that I knew I would never have.

 

Realty came as an avalanche

as I collapse under its weight,

here I was in hell all alone,

which love would never come

to offer any redemption.

Universal

What shines among the hearts of man

is when the cosmos

comes unto the mind

and inspires the universal evolution

of truest enlightenment

where everyone becomes a star

seen for their real value.

 

It is that silver buried in our thoughts

somewhere shimmering

from the space within

that brings a noble desire

unto the dreams for the future.

 

Though time often twists fate’s fine

so we get snarl

by our obsessions,

still the beauty of our future hope

lies in the variety of our creativity

to life on with such artistry

that can keep tomorrow

a promise instead of doomsday.

Her Mystery

She spoke with teases

upon my heart,

her charms

were so puzzling,

until she whispered yes

unto my proposal,

then I knew love

was truly the answer

to her riddle.

Snared Saying

Wherefore, whereas,

worn with written wonders,

legalizes lairs leave language lines,

strings seductively strung so steadily,

compressed cerebral consensus

completely captured certifiably,

heart held hastily,

tongue tormented to translate

 

used car salesman’s contract.

 

Repairs rage regrets,

returns repeatedly rejected!

Beyond The Door

Behind the door within the heart

sleeps the twisted vines and thickets

of what flowers in our thoughts,

those special sanctuaries

we wish were our lives.

 

And when the key is found

to unseal the private paradise,

what withered in the winter

where we knew only bareness

awakens in it vernal beauty.

 

Then eyes so cold and lost

at last see what was hidden

even if it was walled away

beyond anywhere we thought

could be touched.

 

Amid the foliage in that oasis

how the dreamer grows

what is really found

is the essence inside

finally given a chance to bloom.

 

It’s a simple step

so seldom taken,

but always cherished

after discovering

the petals in one’s soul.

Night Gallows

There is a hanging tree over my bed

on it dangles a corpse

the life I wanted that was executed

for trying to escape this agony,

this slow death of silence

where I am trapped

like a condemned prisoner

while the world creates walls

that continually press against me.

 

Inside the wounded heart screams

it only inspires the ghouls and zombies

from trips to some torture chamber

my life was trapped during a moment

of somebody’s idea for sick pleasure.

 

They’ll dissect me without any anesthetic,

another operation to remove my identity

leave me gutted of any sense in worth.

 

Perhaps a grave await to end this waiting

at the crossroads between

melancholy and misery,

but the only guide I’ve met

is a maniac without a conscience

who just specializes in butchering my happiness.

 

If only the brain could kill

those creatures who visit

as peddlers of hate

then perhaps these wounds that keep on bleeding

could have a chance to heal.

 

Until then I walk over the headstone

placed next to my bed

by the one’s who already

treat me as a corpse,

who has no feelings or deserves love

for whom the term RIP

means Rest In Pain.

Audits

 

Lip’s time exemptions

disallowed,

when wife sees

lipstick on the collar.

 

Surf Serenade

The crash of crests beguiles the soul

with the moonlight magic in surf serenade

washes over the heart in waves of serenity.

 

Sails spread across the eyes as a mariner’s dreams

to voyage upon that glassy sea with its spellbound allure

and feel the cool kiss of a salty zephyr wind

blow its tranquil caress over the pores.

 

Upon the shore bare feet

feel that wonderful tingling tease

ever beckoning to slowly stroll

into that watery charm.

 

Night wraps is silk over the mind

where one senses the siren’s song

call with its ageless enchantment

that could awaken the eyes to see a mermaid’s fins

dance an invitation from the swells.

 

In the arms of the one you love

this moment melts two into a single embrace,

slowly summoning the surrender unto that ocean goddess

who works her briny power of passions

with a seashell’s lurid melody,

until the beach becomes a mattress

for writing those tidal tales of intimacy

penned by naked limbs upon the grains of sand.

 

Ruffled Plumes

Passions hung in the cyber air

hearts clinging to that net vine

as if that gossamer space

only real in the mind

might be a homestead of realty.

 

Lives inflamed over graphics

like there were a piece of land,

words used as saber to draw blood

when literary plumes are ruffled

over things that are just illusion,

the conjures of pride and opinion

that have no true substance

other than as images

preserved on a web site

without life or solidity.

 

So what the titan duels

when it all is simply vanity?

I do see a battlefield

worth the stress and anger

where it only exists

on one’s computer screen.

 

But for some this fantasy

seems to be a sustenance,

how they turn something simple

into a war.

 

Life to me has more gold

found in what inspires

than those criticism spears

some hurl without hesitation.

Sunbeam Miracle

 

Nature is so incredibly mystical,

creation having spells that leave

a plethora of puzzlements,

such a panoply of inexplicable oddities,

as creatures hold so man mysteries

no one can explain.

 

Once the snail slimed along,

a naked little slug without his helmet,

just dwelling among the plants,

never thinking anything profound,

then a chance brush with a fern

caused a strange reaction

with the juices oozing from his skin,

how they bubbled and expanded

to become almost like a wart.

 

Suddenly he ventured into the light

and that mound dried,

it eventually harden into a shell form.

 

Little by little,

this became the snail’s evolved state,

was perhaps Mother Earth’s attempt

at making him less appetizing,

which failed once somebody

invented Escargot.

 

Programmed

In the matrix of the mind

abounds the circuitry of thoughts

empowered by programs

that feel, sense and extend

within the grid of life.

 

Data becomes a song,

the transmissions from the heart

and soul has its own software

written by divine plan.

 

How we hold more than information

inside the memory banks,

love and faith decode the cold facts

until knowledge becomes a passion

translated into ideas and philosophy.

 

It is to have a web cam in the head

viewed through the eyes,

which can process what is seen

through a conscience and logic.

 

But all that wealth of input

is summed in the simplicity

of when we reach out to another

because we do more with what we know

than store it as reference.

 

As the details pass through our brain

there is the spirit virus protector

who can filter it through light

so we serve as modem of eternal hardware.

Damn Upgrades!

We’re screwed now for sure,
damn upgrades for Microsoft
had this fricken banana virus,
what they hell are we supposed to now
since it turned us all into monkeys?

I sure ain’t paying for this one,
they better come up with a way
really fast to correct this mess
because no way I’m going to stay like this
and risk the neighbor stud
whose been scheming on my wife,
if she ends up pregnant again
this time I’ll sue Bill Gates
for some child support!

Meanwhile I guess I should be happy
that we still better off
than those poor dudes,
which got zapped by that “donkey” bug
because they were asses before
only now they actually look the part!

Hey buddy is that flee on my back?
Uh-oh, he’s looking at me strange
hope this glitch didn’t mess with other things
and ended up making him gay.

The Keeper

Old spooky woods on the mountain slope at night

swarmed in ghostly sensations,

scoffers sought to despoil

a bloody legend of the Keeper,

about a man who supposedly had lived in a cabin

and was given charge to care for that land

by the one who owned its acres.

 

He was a tall and powerfully built giant

possessed of eerie dark eyes and never smiled,

his icy stare would always make others cringe

in the nearby town where they only feared his presence

for it was rumored he had butchered many

with the ax he always carried.

 

In that log home he lived with his mother,

one full moon night there were heard

such horrible screams coming from inside

by some campers.

 

Terrified and hearts pounding,

yet moving steadily

they wandered through the grey mist

before coming to the door.

What they found was blood everywhere

along with the mom’s severed head,

but no sign of her body or her son.

 

How they searched for him constantly

never finding a trace,

yet over the years some people would vanish

who dared to spent the night in that area,

all that was found later in the blood stains

would be few pieces of mangled flesh

some of them would even reveal teeth marks.

 

Three college boys smirked at those tales

as they wandered with back packs up the hill,

no one would ever scare them away,

because they brought a gun,

plus two of them were experts in martial arts,

all three being football players

so no way this stories would stop them.

 

Campfire helped to warm the eve

its light gave the blackness a special glow

while the trio sucked down beer

then joked over this Halloween,

among this murder lore tainted scenery

could have no power over their minds.

 

Slowly the booze dulled their words,

silence came from the inebriation,

suddenly hearing a thud in the bushes,

pistol retrieved from the sack,

big piece of wood grabbed for a weapon

while they stood to watch for any threat.

 

From nowhere water was tossed to drench the fire,

shouts followed with gun shots,

screams riveted the air,

before there was no sound.

 

Police came to look for the hikers

all that was found was a pistol held by hand.

What a tale perhaps to merely be read,

though none have admitted about the fact

the many times a figure with an ax

has been seen in many different places

where authorities have reported to be secretly hiding

pieces of human remains that were discovered

after somebody was reported missing,

perhaps tomorrow it will be you!

 

What’s The Sun?

Midnight was our friend a wonderful companion

so silent, but peaceful and the perfect time

to be free all the chaos that happen during the light.

 

That was the speech our boss gave

in order to convince us working all night was a blessing

now he couldn’t be there with us

just too many demands on his time,

he did give us a picture of the moon

signed it to be inspiration,

supposed to be better than a raise.

 

Oh we all were the cornerstone of the company

our labors were the most critical

for ensuring the corporation worked right,

then handed us each a personalize flashlight

told us sleep was overrated anyway,

bragged he hardly ever got some himself

and was doing great just the same.

 

Course he never mentioned

those afternoon naps with his door closed

or how he sleep in half day on Saturday,

but stood up and lead us in a round of

‘we shall over come,”

before he sent us off to our dark vigil

while he took another nap.

 

Nine pm came around

how we were so awake,

caffeine and candy buzzed our veins

our movements were on fire,

then came each subsequent hour

as our bodies slowed to molasses

by two am we were zombies,

words in the mind that were brilliant

came out as a string of brain farts.

 

When five am came we were do dead

couldn’t stop yawning,

crawled to our cars,

prayed to make it home awake.

 

Found job security in that insomniac world

despite our mistakes

since nobody else wanted to lose their snooze time.

Filling Holes

All those I’ve known as heroes and gods

were off in their own worlds,

the Lone Ranger playing video games,

Batman hanging at an amusement park,

Mighty Mouse went to the mall,

and Superman was having a party.

 

Oh they didn’t call to see if I wanted to play,

just told me about it later

like it was some kind of boast,

sometimes seems I fall off

the map in their minds,

nobody to hear the words I have to say.

 

But then I looked much closer

at the stories they has shared

saw the little cracks in their facades

and realized they were just filling holes

of the void within their hearts

and didn’t want to me coming along

so I would see how lonely

they truly were too themselves.

 

Sometimes in that solo silence

when we find our own song

its so a great sound,

much better than the ones made

by those who pretend

there is a emptiness in their lives.

Cheers

When the day starts

as a screaming alarm clock

instead of a gentle nudge,

and all the ghost of midnight

still stomp around in the head,

a drink is the best prophet

for inspiring visions,

because the news will still spill doom,

while people will always

find ways to take away your dreams.

 

Little sips to summons smiles,

gazes through honeyed inebriated views

paints an amber hue over the chaos

until it can all look like gold

so one can forget what is just trash

since the garbage collector

will never stop coming

someday you know he’ll come for you too

with a box to shove your life,

but until that time arrives

just sit back and toast life’s lunacy

while getting a reservation for happiness

someone you’ve yet to visit

that you know will have a bar.