Their Frame

Hearts framed as one by heaven's predestined photo,

picture taken before the planets

were hung in the sky and galaxies possessed

legions of shimmering suns.

 

Their souls were pledged in golden bond,

divinely wrapped in love's eternal ring of light.

 

Separated by distant shores, ambling through life,

each seeing the other's face in their dreams

always haunted by the image,

unable to find love among the concrete layers

where minds wallow in cement cesspool,

existence numb and cold.

 

Two beings left on fate's doorstep, clinging to muffled knocks,

resounded at night when sobs of ache were trapped in pillow

so they wouldn't be heard by spouse they married,

out of convenience, but never loved.

 

Ethereal clock chiming to undo their years of failed connections,

as the two married couples try to salvage dead marriages,

booked passage on cruise ships,

storm ravaged seas making instruments malfunction

ships hopelessly headed on collision course.

 

During the tragedy, on that disastrous dark eve,

the four ended up floating in the water with countless others,

waves finally bringing together intended lovers,

both mortally injured in the accident,

willing surrendering life preservers to their spouses,

in parting gulps of salty rush while trying to say good bye,

before swallowed by ocean while their nuptial companions watched.

 

Moaned in their absence, but none aware

their souls residing in perfect bodies, spirits now one forever,

now happily spending eternity on honeymoon cruise

across immortality's ocean, memories of tears never remembered.

Holiday Helix

Ascending ridges

summons

a seasonal skyrocketing rendezvous,

one bite of spiral cut

Honey Baked ham

pure celebration.

Help Is On The Way

Never fear Julie, dear

help is on the way,

got a miracle for you,

have the most amazing healer

who is going to make you well.

 

One touch from him

will take away any pain or sickness,

just being in the same room

is bound to make you better.

 

So I will send in over without delay

the very first Evangel-kitty

 um, you do have hair balls right?

 

Oh never mind,

he’s so versatile,

bet you’ll be feeling great

after he lays in paw on your head,

course you probably smell

like tuna fish afterwards

or maybe even a litter box,

not sure on that part,

but at least you won’t be sick.

 

Where winter blows

When winter blows before my heart

upon that road of endless thoughts,

snow falls from the sky of my doubts,

it spreads a chill upon my hopes.

 

But the journey though often alone

has the chance for curves

to bend away from this icy path

unto somewhere new and warm.

 

That image comes into the head

of the countless detours which have come

from the highway that seemed to have no end

along the trial through frigid scenery,

which didn’t offer a chance to rest.

 

Inside the motor keeps running

even when almost out of gas,

because the map in my mind

still has places marked of my dreams,

directions coming while I sleep.

 

I hold onto those images as postcards

of where I’ve yet to reach,

they remain the compass I follow

through the blizzards and nights,

how it keeps me going

no matter what the season or weather.

Inscribed

Silently slipping into

the stilled labyrinths of sagacity,

tethered to the bell that rings

with the lore of acumen’s chimes,

unable to discern the dulcet tones of wisdom’s wind

when it blows beyond the boundaries

where slumber is the comatose mind

blissfully reclining in the shadows

of ivory towers in tradition’s looming legacy.

 

Dreams fracture a disciple’s puppet peace,

the parroted perspicacity presses its phrases

as retrospection’s soliloquy in rehearsed cerebral sermons.

 

Academia’s ageless phantoms

wander as wisps within the eve,

they moan their murmurs of metaphysical messages

beneath the gossamer tent of circumspection’s canvas.

 

In that delicate shelter of mentally inscribed reality,

you still hear the rumble of thunder

outside the layers of invoked illumination,

snuggled into that philosophical cocoon

while only seeing the gems of designated tomes

ever suffering the spasms of intuition

over the atrophy is intellectual fitness.

Health Food Store

So nutritious

to let you to live forever

on their nutrient tales,

though the whorehouse in back

is filled with VD ridden strumpets

who bake the meals.

 

For the store owner

also owns a mortuary,

when you are a politician

only pays to moonlight,

because screwing others

is your social club,

either way we pay

whether it feeds or kills.

Well…

Words are the mask of panic

when hastily muttered

to explained what looks insane.

 

Around me gather a collection of human oddities

who constantly wish to defined

their actions as other than completely mad.

 

The man with the dog leash, but no dog

told me his pet was hiding,

though been that way for two years,

then there was the woman

that wore a pink bed sheet

claimed it was to protect against alpha ways.

 

I don’t mind coping with those employees,

which dwell on the fringes of reality,

for at least you know they’ll always be

beyond the state of sane.

 

What worries me is the rock,

a boss who is suppose to be in charge,

known for his accomplishments

appears to be so easily to comprehend,

only one day he stops wearing pants

starts sucking lint off the carpet with his lips,

tells me he’s a prophet name, Maguza

with a warning we are all going to die

after a cosmic pillow strikes the earth next week.

 

Somehow in all their antics,

there comes that dreaded word, well…

it means they’ve lost it.

 

I’ve tried to decipher the gestures and groans

interpret each glance and smile,

only in they never follow a rule book

so it all becomes a guessing game,

always hoping I don’t find myself

among those using a plate to talk to Mars

while having to say well,

once I end those stares.

 

Relativity

To share a dream

held in the palm,

of love and hope

given their light

where two lives

unite in their harmony

until a star is born

of its flame.

The Sky Had No Shadows

Days of fantasies

left their trail of native prints

in imaginary villages where life was natural,

where cruelty was a predator

still sleeping beyond the river

between youth’s sweet peace

and the plains outside the window

 

The sky had no shadows

it never rained death,

life was a teepee in the bedroom,

courage scribbled in tales

of good that always conquered evil.

 

But the headdress of fancy

can’t endure hunts on concrete

without being ruffed and torn,

upon the retreat

from the journeys beyond fears,

scarred and matured by wound,

yet behind the eyes

is the stage of make belief resides,

a script where no matter

how the real world works

at least in this realm of justice

for once the minority can win

while holding onto the hope

somebody it will be a play

seen on life’s streets.

Pirouettes Of Christmas Morn

 

Papa sways to his spike egg nog ballet,

Momma does her favorite fudge waltz,

kids bounces to the Santa Surprise symphony,

and Grandma groans from her fruit cake shuffle

because it is last year’s release.

Wimps!

It takes courage, boldness and tenacity

to keep going past that age of innocence,

yeah, you got to be tough,

like iron on a cold day,

because when lying in bed,

joints screaming and body a limp rag,

that’s no time for whining.

 

Mainly because the kids

are off talking on their cell phones,

grandson is hopeless addict to video games,

neighbor is drunk and passed out on his porch,

boss is too busy trying some new male enhancer

so he can pretend he’s still twenty-one.

 

Yeah aging isn’t for wimp,

instead it is for us old babies,

we learn to crawl again

when our backs give out,

drool once more from times face just gets tired,

learn to try and doodle

on those occasion fingers go plain numb.

 

Really works with such vitality,

borrowed from a bottle of whatever,

only good part is learning ways to fake a smile

so you can lie to the young

how you are really getting better with age,

while secretly snickering

about the shock waiting them in twenty years.

I’m A Mine

Yep, there is gold in that thar behind of mine,
cuz if not the government would have a tax spade
and work so dang hard to be sure
I’ll have no nuggets left,
even the ones inside my zipper,
once I reach that retirement age.

And my family sure am so helpful,
why they will be even dig me a hole,
for my old worn out bottom to rust away,
but first they’ll shake out any inheritance dust
before they let me stake a claim
on the plot where there is only fool’s gold
form all the money paid to Social Security
that I will never see.

As for my boss,
well I’m so glad
he sees me as someone to plunder,
always checking the calendar
to see how much longer
until he can give my job away,
did take CPR instruction,
only wants to use it on this
well endowed blonde,
with me he’ll send an email to 911
should I keel over and become a rock.

Might fool them all
sink my cash into Viagra stock,
make sure the dividends
were invest in some gal named Easy,
now that in precious metal
they will never get in a will!

Ahead

Ahead is the dream waiting to be found

the land where life begins anew

of thoughts without scars

and rooms not filled with ghosts.

 

It’s the journey by worn sandals

where you look for beauty

with learned eyes,

because what waits before the feet

is the land full of discovery

beyond the graveyards

that once were stroll

out of ignorance.

 

What lies yet to see

are the places on the map

filled with sights of promise,

yesterday’s map left folded

and placed in a closet

because it never helps guide you

unto the places you were meant to reach.

 

Don’t Count On It

 

Just run away when the Friday comes

so the  dreaded monster Paraskavedekatriaphobia

doesn’t come and strike you dead with bad luck

always in mortal fear of a thirteen on that day.

But it doesn’t matter because

it is enough to suffer from Triskadekaphobia

when thirteen is bad any time,

pull the covers over you head

and pray the time passes without disaster.

Never enough to worry over the usual

let’s get to the core,

numbers are omens and ominous harbingers

so got to have Arithmophobia

in order to worry about any counting!

Or pick out a couple just to suffer dread

should eight come along

to leave an attack of Octophobia,

then perhaps four will do you in

can’t get away from Tetraphobia.

 

Yet on this eerie fate day

I know it is all a plot

can’t buy donuts

without getting a baker’s dozen

woe to me for that extra one

surely will rot my tongue!

It is all doom anyway

after all we’re cursed from the beginning,

since our flag has thirteen stripes!

Now enjoy if you can

hope my cheering you up helped,

then can all hide under a ladder

while holding a black cat

and wait for the end.

Collision Course

The galaxies spun away in fading glow

like the universe was a tilt-a-world ride,

my life had lost its very shine

inside I lived in a cold, deep emptiness,

left in agony and asking where was my orbit?

Where was the place I was suppose to dwell

instead of being trapped in space within meaning,

just an lifeless rock of deadness,

because what had consumed me

with stardust dreams and twinkle

stopped burning when the sun of love

exploded into disbelieve and sorrow.

 

To drift as a paralyzed hunk of flesh,

felt so discarded in the vastness

made each hour like falling into a black hole.

 

But the beauty about having no direction,

gravity eventually claims your path,

wasn’t complaining when I collided

into a planet of an angel

she treated me as a fallen star

as we both learned wishes come true.

Nature’s Dessert

 

If all cows poop brown

and all brownies are brown

then all brownies are poop.

 

Mine

Her eyes were vacuums

they sucked into crevices

found secrets never there,

then let her lips

be an inquisition

over ever wandering act

she assumed I had committed.

 

That sign painted by her mind,

which I never saw

had been hung upon my chest

it said no trespassing

this heart is mine!

 

Might have made more since

if she had written the letters

without screaming their meaning

whenever she assumed

their were intruders

though none existed.

 

Ever checking me for fingerprints

got to be such a strain

since she would look in the morning

after I had been in bed all night

assumed a smile on my face

meant somehow there were mistresses

beneath the sheets.

 

The Spice Of

To live the zest of East Los Angeles

was always like heaven to Pedro

though his days and been few

how that smoggy blue sky

felt so good to his corn skin.

 

He love sharing salsa fantasies

with the chilies and refried beans,

it was so blissful in that taco stand

made so perfect now they had added

the world of cyberspace,

where their location had  web site,

www.tacomaniamagic.com.

 

But he did feel sad

so many of his family

had left by that front widow

heard rumors they ended up

in some tragic fate.

 

The coke machine

claims to have seen it all,

still his cousins

who had that flour flesh

all told him not to worry

they were fanatics

about a saucy after all.

 

Then came that moment

as they took him from his shelf

dipped him into that greasy vat

before stuffing his insides

with that meat and cheese,

hot sauce stung a little,

not as much as when he was handed

unto that person,

so filled with fear seeing that mouth open

just holding onto that trust in reincarnation

to come back next time as a burrito.

Salvage Torment

Mystery’s genesis tapestry

resurrects jigsaw

fantasy recreations,

but my eyes

still can’t

put it together!

You Gotta Have Faith

 

Ten passengers

were in a plane

with the engines on fire,

crewman came

back to where

they were sitting

then asked,

‘is anyone here

a minister?”

 

This one man

proudly raised his hand,

“Good the crewman said,

because we are short

one parachute.”

Wind Talking

Immortal whispers breathe into the skin

a melodious song of flight

through the sky of sagacious sounds

written while listening with the soul

unto heaven’s voice in rapturous rhapsody

sing that eternal scroll of light.

 

Wrapped in its ethereal gossamer weave

slowly the musician of faith emergences

as the self slips into God’s glove of grace

while pride fades from face and form

until His singer is finally born.

 

Moments of tranquility become wisps in elation

before one’s heart utterly embraces

the beauty and truth in God’s word,

it becomes one’s very breath,

strings that are played inside

to praise with deepest profound psalm

what journey the player makes

from ignorance and sin

unto the His saving splendor.

 

Where the day becomes a symphony

in stunning blend of eternal and nature

happily dwelling that in between

one joyous balladeer of trust

ever strolls life to carry His music

within and without.

Wishes For A Speedy Recovery

Dear Lenny we’re so sad as we can be

over how you aren’t able to easily pee,

so wishing you such a fast recovery,

have a chance to work again and be happy.

 

We’re so sorry that experimental Viagra messed up

making you right hand have those spasm of jerking,

until you couldn’t stop and were whining as a pup

though you spilled enough to be left happily smirking.

 

Now hurry up and please get well so very fast

then come back by to make all those great donations,

since all our clients sure enjoy your sperm blast,

which has made you a legend worthy of celebration.

 

Sincerely, the gang at the Sperm Donor Clinic

Fetch!

There’s only so much a poor dog owner can do

when his Fido is totally trained to bark and attack,

then just gets the extra urge to snarl, growl and chew

and decides any butt or pair of balls is the perfect snack.

 

So the city council really had to draw the line somewhere

make sure those owners did let things get totally littered,

requiring them to clean up any bloody, shredded underwear,

leaving people missing hunks of flesh even more embittered.

 

Now you have to carry an official chuck meat scooper

or face a fine and risk being chained to your special Rover,

which will be enforced by a duly sworn State trooper

who’ll make sure doggie gnaws and gives you an ass makeover.

 

Course during any female is known to be in heat

you told to avoid the choice of wearing shorts,

unless you’re a kinky broad looking for a canine treat

with screwing poochies you idea of outdoor sports.

 

In which case you have to lick the cum from the dock

so you don’t risk a ticket for mutt squirting exhibition,

then be sure that dog don’t use shins for his cock

plus they will tax you for the using his juice as nutrition.

 

Pier is now safe to walk without having to step on bits of flesh

so tourist can enjoy the scenery without teeth marks on behind,

no more worrying about hospitals treating bite wounds so very fresh

plus safe from rare risk of rabbis making visitors lose their mind.

 

Companions

She feels the sea breeze

brush her face with its salient scent,

hears the waves wash over the sand,

remembers when she walk barefoot

and played catch with the driftwood,

watched the sky sting with its stunning cerulean

then felt so at peace in the company

of the one who loved her so faithfully,

spoke with his tale and never left.

 

Glimpses of afternoon glows

warm with the kiss of memory’s lips,

the days spent in leisure strolls

upon those shoreline tapestry,

ever with her canine friend

even when her steps

were about the one she thought

was going to be her love forever.

 

Summer brought romance’s sweet bouquet,

which wilted from feigned words of falsehood,

that hand faded from her touch,

vanished when her vision

developed their weakness,

eventually turning everything into a blind canvas.

 

So now she walks again

with that one partner who never stops loving,

as she pauses to fix he seeing eye dog collar,

which he had been taught to wear

able to truly view life so clearly now

with eyes seeing the world

in new and intense ways.

Resurrection

Battlefields with white tattered flags

appear with the sunrise,

their emaciated enemies are mummified,

weaponless and mute,

but their bugles sounds in the air

they play taps and a cavalry charge

though I cringe and vomit

none ever arrive to butcher

with other than fear.

 

Can’t stop bleeding

from the slaughter that never took place

because I surrender

and was decapitated of my worth,

heart impaled on a saber

drained of its pulse,

still I feel and suffer the defeat

in an endless array of marching memories

that resurrected the villainous cadavers.

from that tomb in my head.

 

It’s so hard to claim a truce

when the slain always still take you prisoner

who set you before a firing squad,

left executed countless times a day.

Cocktails

Hours poured out like a cocktail

the mix of tears and love,

a daiquiri of dreams

served during happy hours

advertised by bartenders

hidden in darkness

where whiskey lies

allow the thoughts

to give life

unto distilled memories

until the seat next to you

is occupied by a clone,

a perfect image of oneself

unblemished by the truth.

 

That replicated essence

goes home in other’s minds.

While they left you

with their version,

someone before the alcohol

swims through head

an one is lost in the night’s sea

they all drown,

recreated another night

after enough rounds.

Poker Face

Could a butcher truly look so serene,

not one reveal his next intention

by any type of expression.

 

Silver flashes of the scalpel,

blood drips of the end,

while held in the air

by ashen withered hand,

dim light of single bulb

in the windowless basement

only reveals the bits of flesh

that lie on the filthy floor.

 

She can’t scream through her gag,

wrists bound behind her back

unable to move in that steel chair.

Ankles tied to its legs

fare feet buried under mass of intestines

with a couple of eyes balls on top.

 

No chance to beg,

would do any good,

already watch this maniac

behind that crimson stained surgeon’s mask

dismember two of her friends,

never imagined stepping onto

that old run down,

two-story gray Victorian home

for trick or treat

might end in this horror.

 

They heard it was evil,

occupied by a madman,

but that smell of chocolate

and carved pumpkins in the window,

lured them knock on the front door.

 

So sure that headless butler seen

hanging from the staircase

when the door opened by itself

had to be a trick,

only when the welcome mat

became a trapped door

it was too late to run.

 

The blade sliced off her ear,

then the man behind the mask,

dipped in fudge sauce

before he ate it.

 

His eyes were black coals,

breath hot and reeked of rotting flesh,

one smile revealed his yellow teeth.

 

Soon he would carve another snack

but leave his last victim alive,

for he truly would need a special entrée

to bake in the over for Thanksgiving.

 

It was hidden behind his calm portrait

which never showed any emotions,

softly he spoke a hint of hope

how she might yet be released,

though it was just a game,

yet it was not really a gamble

since he was a plastic surgeon

who just like to make Halloween masks

out of human faces.

The Scent Of Cherries

She remembered the scent

before its sweet innocence

was lost among the flowers,

 

they grew beneath the sky

stained in the claret hues

from her heart

where she thought his arms

would make life into a wine

that would only age

into a rare vintage.

 

But he hungered for the taste of cherries

went off in quest for more,

now she’s learning

to enjoy the aroma again

of the blossoms from her past,

while waiting for the one

who would love her petals

no matter how wilted.

The Good Life

I’m so blessed as I can be,

since the government

sold me this great house,

 sure beats that bush

where I used to live,

oh the congressman

gave such a great speech

when talking about how

he was taking care of homeless.

 

Really I bet those rumors

are even possibly true,

how they were doing

secret experiments on crabs

and this is an abandoned shell,

are trying to make those creatures

one heck of big food supply.

 

Course did see those strange tracks

on the sand,

plus they did say

stay off the beach after night.

Imagine their might be lots of reason

for those couples

who went out there after dark

ended up screaming

then in the morning

all I found was some shredded swim clothes,

plus a bunch of red stains.

 

Still, it is the good life for me,

nice, quiet and free,

all  leftover picnic meals I could want,

from people who just keep disappearing,

its not half bad

after you wash of the dirt and blood.

We Can Make It Baby

 

We can make it baby

yes we can,

for nobody knows cool like me.

 

Now you come along

so I can show you a real good time

got my monthly bus pass

that way we can ride it style

even push that homeless guy aside

who is sleeping on the back seat

then we get down and dirty

for some real hot loving.

 

Yeah, don’t worry I practice safe sex,

all those morons who waste money on condoms

when aluminum foiled works just as good,

those crinkles suppose to give extra pleasure.

 

Afterwards I take you

to the frozen yogurt place

over at the mall,

we can watch those flavors

as we wait for somebody to leave some leftovers,

nothings to good for my date!

 

If you show your appreciation just right,

I’ll sneak you into the movies

know how to work it right

in order to only miss half the movie

plus always find some discard box of popcorn.

 

Oh yeah in that darkness I’ll really

give you a reason to scream,

don’t worry my pet rat in my trench coat,

which I’ll show you

is totally tame and never bites.

 

What do you say babe,

ready for the time of you life?

This will be time you’ll know

the kind of ecstasy that only happens in dreams

and will be so reasonable

since I’ll pay for half the cost of our outing.