Will He?

Will he have wings
to match his body?
Will his heart
really equal his muscles?
Her soul craves answers
of her love’s
longing in questions.

Luscious

Tongue slowly swirls seductively over that large mound
happily tasting its flesh and lusting for more,
then her mouth engulfs it inside with such ravenous urge,
utterly thrilled to savor this offering of his,
how she lets the juices flow down her throat from that melting ice cream cone.

Skies Of Hope

When sickness feels like a mountain
and the sky just seems to drain the day,
if the sun should bake instead of inspire
until you can’t feel the sway of hope
among the turquoise tapestry,
just remember the times of clouds
the beauty of those billowy bouquets
who remind that life is like a flight
where tomorrow comes a better wind
to touch us with its breath of refreshing,
bring a morn so soothing and calm
so what burdened and ached
finally just drifts away.

So look at those slopes you have to ascend
without fear or sadness
because time will rain its blessings
over the places you have to travel
until at least you feel those droplets
ease what brings such pain,
let them drench away what causes sadness
for the joy of something pure and clean
where finally the hurt is gone.

My Microscope

I gazed intently through that small crystal lens
at all the infinitesimal and miniscule bits of fact,
deciphering its images as harbingers of future trends
while deciding reality was found in what is compact.

With diligence did I search that world with my eyes
to let the tiniest detail become my wisdom’s feature,
then trimmed truth down to focus on the smallest prize
as I ignored any outside sounds from any living creature.

Oh the earth and existence shrunk in their priority
all that I measured as value based on my limited view,
how I gave its interpretation rule and such authority
what else resided around me denied any real debut.

Each hour passed and my vision stared only at one thing
imagined it as gold to be horded and always what mattered,
though inside I knew such would never be able to bring
acumen enough so I could understand all that time had scattered.

Then one day I accidentally dropped my cherished tool
no longer able to reduce what is down to that little site,
forced to look around upon every facet, beam and pool
suddenly aware all that I had missed in my narrow sight.

So amazed how the loss of my picayune probe’s power
had kept me from being able to honestly know my realm,
learn the beauty there in each rock, glen and flower,
which in their essence is seen so clearly can overpower.

Space

Inner voids that suck you deeper
into their darkness,
nothingness waiting an answer,
the light to set it a fire.

It’s universe is a canvas,
potential tapestry of the mind,
all the stars and the planets,
are exhale from within
spinning into the emptiness
instead of allowing it to drown,
because inside lies the creator its splendor
from that living cosmos in the heart.

So gaze into that mental abyss,
a chasm, sometimes bottomless and imprisoning,
but the spirit can race as a comet,
reaching beyond any limitations.

Never staying trapped in a black hole,
using it as a slingshot
to streak into the unknown,
worlds sleeping at one’s fingertips,
claimed when we stop and watch
that twinkle rise in the head,
then the space becomes a galaxy
explored by imagination’s flight,
lifting off can be a challenge,
sometimes just have to forget about gravity
and just close the eyes
until seeing the cosmos
presumed lost on an blank sheet of paper.

Of Comet’s Cacophony

Of comet’s cacophony
I felt in a dream,
trapped in slipstream of stars
through a galactic Mobius Strip
where I finished at the beginning,
an Omega on God’s Alpha scroll
touched by time’s timbre is twinkles
that happen light years ago,
yet they dance in the eyes
while riding that night sky to its origins.

My astral quintessence in ethereal wings
floats through that vacuous dark,
it moves while affixed to a single pinprick
because the cosmos alarm clock
has no hands,
except that are viewed by my mind’s eye.

So I hold unto the gossamer glimmer,
aware it is Heaven’s diadem,
think I can possess it
on a par sec of reference
when it remains a wisp in my spirit,
ageless like the celestial sea
who waits to immerse the seconds
in the eternal.

What rapture, what sweet unveiled sagacity,
once I am utterly enthralled by the universe’s whispers,
which never die
though I blink at the changing illumination,
slowly accepting immortality is the river
with all creation swimming along a bend
through the black labyrinth that has no end.

Nevermore

Life sucks for cat
with miser as an owner.

Bad enough the jerk
buys the cheapest
pet food,
dented cans missing labels!

But that lazy creep
now expects poor pussy
to flip light switches
so won't have to pay
for costs of buying
a remote clapper device.

Not in this lifetime

Such a terror
when you come back
as a cat,
being a Starbuck's addict
in your former life,
spending time
in caffeine karma,
unable to order a latte,
forced to sneak into diners
but in shear agony
because a hiss and meow
won't get you
a fix.

A moment of purest invention

Was mother's fault,
keeping precious daughter
from driving her nuts
because she was whirlwind of energy.

Got her hooked
on doing connect the dot books,
took a nap
leaving child busily penning.

Waking up,
discovering
girl ran out of pages,
connecting freckles
on baby brother's face instead.

Communing

Let me feel the wind touch my heart
drink the sky so deeply of its every inspiration,
hear the birdsong in the trees
totally allow it to walk me on the clouds.

Only I do wish Mother Earth
could give me some slack
on this season business
I mean are we on a schedule here
so some disaster might come
that I would get struck by lightning
by wanting Spring in the Fall?

Tell me where the rules are kept
maybe a tree bark or in a pond
that says I have to wait for months
just to see some leaf fall off a tree?

Well I’ll find some sanity I suppose
through practicing not keeping track of time,
in order to sit until I’m ready to go insane
when I keep my calendar on July
because I love the picture
even though it is now December?

Grazing

Afternoons spent in the meadows of the mind
grazing on the grass feeding the extremes imagined,
while the stallion doses in complacency,
wishfully waiting for the heart’s stampede
to race as thoroughbred across life’s fields.

In the staleness of somber sensations
where lethargy blows as a wind over the spirit,
inside the steed of liberty stomps its feet,
wanting to live by the power possessed within,
not be just another member of the herd,
constantly content to merely amble in ease,
but instead to gallop and know the pure potent pleasure
of running with all your energy’s fury,
completely and fully afire with adrenaline,
never stopping until reaching that edge of self
where you discover all the resides inside as possibility.

It is the choice made when it is easier to nap,
avoiding feasting on passion’s wheat
and let its essence fill one’s life
until the sunset is seen from a winner’s circle
rather than another day ending
just as a beast of mediocrity
settling for less than what is dreamed.

Dotted Lines

Virgin pen
dipped in trust's well
scribbles compulsion.

Seduction's cannibal lips
kiss with
asp inclinations,
victims bitten,
convinced it's love.

Reruns

The gut burns
in regret’s river
from mistakes
with a price tag
always on rerun.

Plots

Being buried alive is a terror beyond belief,
but the grave digger’s heart thrives on the rush
from the sheer thrill of watching the fear
explode in wide open eyes,
mouth gaping in shock and horror,
body taped to restrain its rebellion,
feeling so powerless to prevent
this unbelievable cruelty to one’s life.

Heart pounds so hard and beats so loud
as the lid is shut tight and darkness comes,
then there are the sounds of dirt raining
down upon the cover
while it grows fainter with each shovel.

Inside there is nothing except pure panic,
still unable to accept
how anyone could ever do this to another
and in the black silence suddenly
surrendering to the nightmare
while clawing at the lid and screaming
until passing out from the exhaustion.

Tomorrow will come and life
will have been unearthed from that tomb
for the grave digger is a lover
who is skilled at burying with hate,
its the mind that gets put in the plot
with each vile word uttered,
night is the visit from his fingers
carefully figuring another way
to strangle your sanity,
the stale smell of soil on his fingers
from digging the hole
where he expects you to suffer
as his form of I love you.

Sail Away

With ardent effort I closed the last lid
upon the suitcases of my secrets,
each was the luggage of my memories
where I packed all the cares and frets,
happily sealing them inside
before I bid the farewell
and sent them as cargo upon a ship.

From the harbor would I watch
them sail away and out of my life
as they took with them
every sadness and concern
that had crowed my mind
while always demanding
all my attention and energy.

But at last I am truly free
for now they are beyond the horizon
floating upon that vessel,
so I can feel the sweet liberty
of dwelling in my home
without the burden
that those rags of angst
had clothed upon my heart.

Invitations

Afternoon's melancholy
is the heart's
succor of sorrows.

Depression's sediments
engrained
as gritty thoughts
during twilight's bleeding expectations.

Sand castle prayers,
uttered in the throbbing rhetoric
from angst unanswered questions,
moaned in desperate plea
to receive a some day's telegram
for a party
having other than monotony's chromatic reality.

Loneliness becomes a crypt
in the middle of a crowd,
affection's death shroud
muffles the haunting chortle
of distant popularity.

Saline seas pour from the eyes
clinging to wish's inflatable pearls
that once floated the heart
upon a sunrise
into a charmed mountain chalet
conjured
when fairy tales were truth.

Writing one's name
on the reflection's shore,
staring out at the tides of longing,
holding hope's invitation
aboard a cruise on love's sailboat
where the sandman isn't the captain.

Chagrin's Secrets

Lips rage passions
senses tingling with torment.

Words regurgitate
zephyr ire
paranoia's eloquence
firing missiles.

Hitting target
exquisite devastation.

Mushroom cloud ruination
discovering wounded,
enemies wearing love
assumed to be deceit's armor.

Face carved in scarlet,
veiling pressing buttons.

Moose!

antlers in pine limbs
fierce eyes poking through needles
twig eater snorts rage

four legs rise from grass
greet massive brown coat body
face reveals warnings

largest of deer breed
roams at will among the trees
famed as Bullwinkle

I Knew That!

Don’t tell me the direction even if I’m driving in circles
from my compass points towards testosterone truth north,
because a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do
since it is the principle that counts,
being faithful to my inner chauvinists piggy
means I only act caring when I’m having to lie
about being sensitive if I think it will get me lucky.

So what if I went in debt until I’m a slave
in order to drive that gas guzzling SUV 4X4
with the extra large tires I really don’t need
and it might as well be a coffin
for all the times I have to sit at home
too broke to go anywhere,
the point is I have the darn thing,
which is all that counts.

It’s no big deal that I spent a bundle
just to be sure I had custom wheel rims,
plus a personalized license plate,
heck I think M A STUD
sounds so cool.

Shoot we can get by without gas to heat the house
that I can pay the insurance fees,
no reason to not sit in the garage
while the engine idles to use the one in the vehicle,
course don’t help much in the middle of the night,
but those cans of Sterno do help to get by.

Can’t figure for the life of me
why the wife would leave after all I’ve done
through my way of trying to make her happy,
guess you can’t expect everyone to appreciate
my attempts at being loving,
think she would have been more understanding
about me buying a CB radio for my transportation
rather than those tampons she said were a necessity.
I mean no reason she couldn’t have figured
a way to get by until we got our income tax refund back
imagine after I bought those zebra seat covers
there would be enough left for those other things.

Of Comet’s Cacophony

Of comet’s cacophony
I felt in a dream,
trapped in slipstream of stars
through a galactic Mobius Strip
where I finished at the beginning,
an Omega on God’s Alpha scroll
touched by time’s timbre is twinkles
that happen light years ago,
yet they dance in the eyes
while riding that night sky to its origins.

My astral quintessence in ethereal wings
floats through that vacuous dark,
it moves while affixed to a single pinprick
because the cosmos alarm clock
has no hands,
except that are viewed by my mind’s eye.

So I hold unto the gossamer glimmer,
aware it is Heaven’s diadem,
think I can possess it
on a par sec of reference
when it remains a wisp in my spirit,
ageless like the celestial sea
who waits to immerse the seconds
in the eternal.

What rapture, what sweet unveiled sagacity,
once I am utterly enthralled by the universe’s whispers,
which never die
though I blink at the changing illumination,
slowly accepting immortality is the river
with all creation swimming along a bend
through the black labyrinth that has no end.

The Produce Stand

We stopped by this produce stand
to look for bargains on fruit,
it was an old building
that had been there for years.

While we were checking apples
this man appeared dressed in a ratty gray robe,
he started screaming about the end of the world,
how melons were demon possessed.

The cashier had to call the cops
as the man got more insane with each second,
they finally came and hauled him away,
we bought some pears and bananas,
but just couldn’t get inspired to buy melons.

The Hourglass

I sense the sands of time
steadily slip away in an hourglass,
which changes everything I see,
though it happens so slowly
sometimes we think things don’t change.

It’s when all around us
in one day while our eyes are truly open
that suddenly we notice
how those grains have honestly
been poured out of a place or person
where they are so different,
aged and weathered by the days.

Then we pause and remember
about the precious gift of every sunrise,
while each life has its own hourglass
silently running out of its time.

For a while one we hold so precious,
the thing we love the most
and to hear that draining of the heart’s sands
is to hold each day as special.

Among the many joys we every know
none becomes more satisfying
than to treat those we love
with an embrace of each second
as if it might be the last.

Home

Honeyed hearth of heartbeats yet to throb
held in the night dream embryos
where questions echoes their thoughts.

Perhaps, is the road sign
waiting in its seductive wisps,

a moan from the concrete
reaches down the throat
and claws with curiosity.

Traveling is the song,
the inevitable pulsing wind

there is refuge of calm

in the place not yet found

but it dwells in the imagination

creating those gnawing maps
as the urge that never dies

always possessing as a vagabond's wisp
looking for the address to the soul

It lives and thrives in your vibrations
as the one place
you wander endless
to find as home.

Developed

Snapshots in the mind of dreams and fantasia
carefully crafted into images for others to see,
by the magic of word, music and film
they take those visions and give them life
draw us into their creative darkroom
while make it real unto others.

It is the sorcery of senses so enticing
as it helps us to believe in the impossible,
make it memorable inside our heads,
lovable and fascinating to our hearts.

Oh the wand used to make
what only exists in our brains
suddenly have personality and action,
move and live upon a day’s canvas
become so enchanting to our thoughts
so we reclaim in part by their wizardry
all the youthful love of fantasy.

What beauty there is in the world
where the logical isn’t the ruler,
how it thrives by imagination’s air
until for a while
we can think that fairies
might really hover in the night.

Sand Castles

Was it the soothing wash of wave song
or merely the rays of the early morning sun
that made this moment on the beach
slip into the heart and drive to lips
into a deep wet kiss with tongues entwine?

The mind said to worry someone else might notice,
but that steamy, sizzling sensation within
can’t ignore the intense hunger
and soon clothes are gone
as two pair of hands grope and explore naked flesh
before it explodes with sounds of moans
when she lies down to let him slide
deep into her private moist garden
with his stiff manhood so throbbing for release.

Hips pound against hips
while they lie as lovers
each second passing with more heat,
which she adds to with her legs and arms wrapped around him.

Soon his powerful thrusts cause that climatic volcano
to erupt with her back arched and screams,
they both shudder and pant in the afterglow
of the orgasm that left their heads spinning.

One last kiss then they get up to say good-bye
since they had just met only an hour ago,
yet both had to return to homes and families,
just blaming it on the spell of the ocean
then noticing their imprint in the sand,
it would be their own erotic sand castle
left as a temporary memento of a what happened,
content to recall that grain artistry of sighs
with a smile only they would understand.

Developed

Snapshots in the mind of dreams and fantasia
carefully crafted into images for others to see,
by the magic of word, music and film
they take those visions and give them life
draw us into their creative darkroom
while make it real unto others.

It is the sorcery of senses so enticing
as it helps us to believe in the impossible,
make it memorable inside our heads,
lovable and fascinating to our hearts.

Oh the wand used to make
what only exists in our brains
suddenly have personality and action,
move and live upon a day’s canvas
become so enchanting to our thoughts
so we reclaim in part by their wizardry
all the youthful love of fantasy.

What beauty there is in the world
where the logical isn’t the ruler,
how it thrives by imagination’s air
until for a while
we can think that fairies
might really hover in the night.

Inner Peace

I found my haven from body fat blues
after my master’s Nazi fitness trainer
bent over just right for me to give him a nice big bite,
now life is sublime with stress beauty so divine
for a dream is never lard or full of calories!

Oh Doctor Novocain

Oh doctor Novocain hear my precious plea
root me some molar magic
with that blessed anesthesia therapy
before you drill and thrill
and send that chill through my jaw,
let me fathom tooth fairy mercies
while you hold that needle in your hand.

Can you forgive my floss floundering,
do you have a soul for detecting decay
that can caress my enamel,
bewitch my bicuspids
so I don’t dwell in pain’s pit?

Woe to me that I should confess
all the tooth transgressions
of my mouth’s misguided ways,
for I sit here before you
a mere mortal of marred means,
just clinging to this frail hope
there is grace in your implements,
forgiveness in your tools.

Now take me to that numbed bliss
let me lie in its layer of comatose illusions,
tell me sweet lies that it will all be okay
until I wake to the swollen gum consequences
over my failed vigilance in dental proclivities.

I Heard You Were Blue

I heard that you were blue
so thought I would try
to find a special way
for giving you a smile.

Now I looked here and there,
far and wide,
everywhere I could think
just to find you
that special reason to giggle.

Heard about the magical
bluebird of happiness,
figured he would really
give you a chance to laugh.

Even found out
where I could locate him,
rushed over before dawn
in order to get his help.

Guess that part
about the early bird
didn’t apply to this one,
maybe with some birdseed
perhaps he’ll even chirp.

Meanwhile just keep having nice thoughts
and as soon as he’s in the right mood
then I’ll send him over to cheer you up.

Unforgettable

When the flakes of wintry memories
fall in the long, silent nights of questioning,
slowly brushing with their icy thought
from those moments spent
forced to walk through drifts
alone and unsure when it will ever in.

The phantom flakes of those encounters
still sting the face in their icy reflections.
while inside the rainbow glow in bright remembrances
flows outward like a waterfall
over the times after the blizzards
that life thawed and felt alive again.

How it reminds how even when the winter bites
with its cold, frozen touch,
it doesn’t keep the heart from holding onto
those colored ribbons
in the precious portraits,
which always leaves a tattoo
of countless spring colors in hope
upon the mind and sight
about times that always follow January’s storms.

You can see them like a make up
always visible in any reflection
as the stripes that leave a glow
so you don’t forget snow doesn’t last forever.

My Peter Cottontail Pain

How will I ever survive
after the Easter Bunny stole my internet service?
Now He’s hooked on all those rabbit sites
and selling last years jelly beans on Ebay!

It’s such misery too me
since he’s even taken my identity at AP,
hope he gets tired of writing poems about plastic grass
because I sure am suffering from contest withdrawals.

Been appealing to the Muse for some help
only she’s not willing to risk losing out on her share of Easter eggs.

Manacles

There’s no place to hide after sundown
from that creepy creature who thrives
in every sound that darkness summons.

I can feel it stalking in its ravenous roam
and if I fall asleep it will come
with its slimy claws to manacle my mind
until I can't move or escape,
it will feast upon my sanity and peace
ready to terrorize with fears
before it reaches into the heart
to rip them from that box
where they are sealed away.

Muscles tightens from the anxiety,
heart races from the dread,
but it only inspires apparitions,
the wicked shrouded figures of phobias
who suddenly appear over the bed.

Then the torment starts,
all the hideous kisses upon the skin,
each creates a fire that produces intense pain,
still there is no way to avoid this cruelty,
no chance of stopping the haunting
with all the moments of hellish abuse
when reality is fractured and my bedroom
becomes a morgue with me left a cadaver.

How I crave the hope of light,
only it will never come again
because this blackness is a curse
constantly growing in my brain
as every part of my being
now lies in a pool of fantasy vomit.

Over and over again
aware that my sanity is vanishing
for my worries have recreated my reality
into a realm where rotting dead bodies