pinch of gloss
smidge of sparkle
tongue lubricantly worn
tits tissued
shoes a-bladed
spread cheeks vaselined
rubbers tallied
picture kissed

prelude to a moonlight glow

she is called Kiko
to the tourists
that pay

she is called Lola
L-O-L-A
Lola
to the sailors
that get it

any night at port
every dollar spent
is a story untold

hell...
would you?

jaw land dirty world
compacts and candy

flaw across the scar of sun
cutting cross tender bone
the hip throne

I can hear your breath
the hitchs
crying through a phone

put me down babe
put me down

cruel safetys off
to let you cold fire finger
pull ventral ebullience

drip hesitant kisses
drop memory in park

let our idle agony
spill runaway
hearts

into the damned
and lost of dark

.........

I’ve heard the cries from mountaintops
too many times to chance recall,
but never could I lift these legs
to limp and find the source.

Therefore I list with utmost care
to draw what least I may
from echoing strains that batter me
to learn what they portend.

But thunder and lightning, wind and rain
was all I could discern
and never might I learn the truth
of what the mountain said.

I'll wonder awhile
watching your reflective eyes
catching sweetly in our
fractured mirror views
do you see me?
my vain soul believes it
but my logic is a mere
drop in your hat trick words

inspired...always
like those forever words
decided for us that
those burned rooms
and haunted halls
would whisper promises
we could never keep

such beauty resounds in the eyes of lovers,
those who know the value of love
time severs,
bones ache,
the forehead frowns permanently
the balding head indicates,
the past dense forest once it did exist,

then when both lovers see
fading lips
twitching eyes
can I see you dear?
my spectacles are broken,
you can’t hear,
but how happy we both are…

Blue sky’s, Green trees, all this beauty brings me to my knees.                                                                                                                      
White moon, Yellow sun, playing all day just for fun.                                                                                                                                      
Red roses, Pink flowers, thinking about her for more then an hour.                                                                                                              

Where are you I need to talk?
To walk as I do, with new thoughts
A strange quietness to my ways
Where equals are so different.

Fly high with thoughts anew
Where is it going I ask?
Be gentle with their worlds
We can see many new words

Coldness that freezes Ice
Warmth that would melt rocks
Yet both held at bay.
Touching the mind.

To sing stories of old
Prayers from many tongues
Worlds kissing at a whim,
Then pursuing their own path.

THE DAKOTAS:
[SEASONS: WINTER]

Arctic winds seized
the Dakotas
with no warning
and the northern trees
froze in mid breathing.
snow lay heavy
crashing in silent thuds
from roofs and mountain sides.
suddenly the earth
seemed to die
and Nature spoke its desolation

For a long time now
I've been fed
the same menu;
same meal courses
served in the form of reports
about murdered casualties,
innocent hostages,
and camouflaged conferences
to satisfy the killers
and the chairs' owners

then
you get your dessert
elegantly displayed
by our mother nature
as a volcanic eruption,
an earthquake,
or a tsunami

a satisfying meal
always served
stale
there
in the cuisine of time
for you
and me

we coax
embrace
pure perpetual essence
at the centre of imagination

devolve our eternal given spirit
through eons
from unconditioned, free
invisible
to dazed confinement
consigned in stardust

first consciousness
resides
wrapped
quietly hidden
the fingerprint of sentience behind
what is
has been
will be without end

while
into void
from potential
we
somehow
bring life to myth
.