Monthly Archives: September 2017


AND if we dream.
Quietly as though
the babbling brook
demands so.

AND there by the trees
a hobble-knobble
moon goes telling
sweet thoughts.

WITH pine in air
and stiff nipples
expectations like dreams
touching goals.

There are no impossibilities
just fears and blocked roads
by brain we the insane
mostly never overcome.

:: 09-30-2017 ::



A very busy mind full of broken
shaped happy forgottens
two eyes to see A third
to know

This hand and that tongue
this foot and that lovely


IT HAS those many points and
like matrix math it flips/
flops over all other points/
like my thinkingMAYBE
might be a bruise upon
deceptive causes

And those goddamn questions!
poking a calm bed of ants
prickly scalp scratching
ideas LIKE those we all
tuck inside our lower basements
until the snow comes

My fire burns very brightly
to incinerate the weakest won!


:: 09- 30-2017 ::


i tasted the last words
just within my mouth
and drawn into this life
where orchestras awaken
blood from death
Walking in muddy boots
across the fields of
the world’s death
i took a breath of life
and saw babies eating
remaining memories
i tasted my last words
just there in my love
and drew conclusions
: love is our life trap
and whatever price
i have is priceless advice:
that love is everything.

:: 09-29-2017 ::


sometimes makes you
feel alive
and sometimes dead
Life can hit you
in the face (oh my)
and memories of youth
are always sometimes
good but now it’s bad
And with lessons to learn
who can keep you in
your seat: maybe now
it’s time to recognize
your brothers & sisters
and now”
we all shout on we
all shout on who
are we <ah!> we’re all
tasting stars and moons
and hugging hearts >
these days are so strange
and everything politicized
forgetting no matter how well
We speak the truth is true
: we are all one.
Oh mama we are all one indeed!
Oh, mama like John said, ”
everyone is high and there’s
UFO’s over New York and I ain’t’
surprised.” Such strange
days indeed!

:: 09-28-2017 ::


AND the pot of gold was resting
there by the  contraption of another world
so baby cry, cry, cry and are we old enough
as a world to know baby
  we can cry and laugh holding
planets and stars within our hands
  yes, we are old enough my smiling
baby Jesus’ with a message at the
train station of life and death.
Especially the voices of crying
children who remember to know better
so cry baby we all try to hold on
to the future of our best wishes
and mostly we’re all programmed
by that way-station on the other side;
our hands holding unknown things
our minds almost remembering them
historical amnesia is our diagnosis
so baby cry
            so baby try
                        so my oh my
greed is an infection
muted voices a reflection
and all the tears like metal
the smell of static like space
lost astronauts in twisted steel
and the pot of gold resting there
by the contraption of another world
making my mind scream.
:: 09-28-2017 ::


there are large hearts and some
tiny Fingers clasping the
tender petals of teardrops
and if my own mouth large
it would taste and dare eat
the sun gloriously drenched
sanguine-golden promise

vertiginous and spiraling
like as when heads of daisies
by blue winded skies breath
twisting swaying in deep love
is how i think of you my love
is how i know i how’d is
this love more than art!

:: 09-26-2017 ::

Seriously What Would a Poet Be?

\\\SERIOUSLY, what would a poet Be
if all the words written were of
love? Desert. Dry. Fragments
of pieces of wishing? Who knows –
only you. But this I know.

we want only a few things in this
life: Sex, food, comfort, shelter,
and love.

Aside of that. The few remaining
awaken who dream wish a bit more.

truth, life, knowledge, and
the taste of GOD.

I’m sleeping on the right of the bed.
take the rest of it. \\\

:: 09-25-2017 ::


The tempo of life began as a whimpering limp
accelerated to words with drama and life
and the colors of the world drew me close

and so many unlike me fell to the
WAY SIDE of oblivion and obscurity
And the remaining flesh left with eyes
from the gutter looking at the world:

And the blood of my heart shifts as sands
of a dry bleeding sandstorm that keeps
each foot ahead of the other for I
am the conductor of my own words!

And there are times i believe my bones
are not living now but wishing under
all the weight of possible lives.

:: 9-25-2017 ::

Do We Outgrow Love

Do we outgrown love? No.
That love is great
is no surprise to humans.

We live within our skin
That is enough to say
love does not outgrow us.

But what is love? To think
a fleeting emotion for most
the garbage that needs taking out.

In our modernity we are compelled
to seek the best and strongest
that lasts forever until;

Our need to love grows
beyond the capacity of that
we paid to quell our needs.

This, unfortunately, is love
and flesh too. And we can
blame it upon consumerism.

Love is not a deed.
Life is not a landscape
that should be sold to the

one with the most money.

:: 09-25-2017 ::

We Are Nature and Nature Rules

AND WHAT IS the largeness of God?
All knowning and compassionate?
Judge, jury and executioner?
The beginning and ending of all?
the Alpha and Omega.
If so, then I am only one human,
a thing created by that One who
is surpassed by all things.
But this I do know: compassion
has no limits and greatness is
not confined to words. And
beginnings are not really
a beginning but moreso a
continuation of Life. And i am
focused on truth too.
My foot is within the ass of
all those who have polluted
the concept of a God; control
is their device but mine is
of Love and Patience. Let
the worlds’ institutions burn,
let the false words crumble,
and allow freedom of Sprit
to Rule: We are Nature.
And Nature Rules.

:: 09-25-2017 ::