Night-time stride beneath fair moon-light,
looking left, the ocean rocking,
breaks white sprays on hilly shores.
Endless wavelets course the docks.

Warring thoughts, something’s not right here...
Past the docks I spy some buildings.
Amber lights reveal a scurry.
Dream feet flight, I’m instantly there.

Hundreds flee, in hurried fashion,
signalling to trail their lead.
Dread is heavy, as a sickness;
can’t shake this feel we all may die!

Treading in the mucus of the lungs of despair
A child blindly splashing around
Franticly trying to generate enough noise for any passersby to notice
Alas, no one does
Plummeting to the bottom
Succumbing to this tormented inadequacy
Using the toxic lung butter of fear
To spread on the moldy bread of self deception
It feeds my insanity that no better life exist
I’m dying a slow starving death
Emaciated from a life spent without emotion
It is the bread killing me
But I do not know it

as in "Dune"
the dreamer has awakened
to new realities
because of you
your delicate touch
bringing fresh sight
and sharpened perception
to my guarded world
I was once a vagabond
skimming my way
across my life
not getting involved
taking no chances
many close encounters
decided my path
of flight from
dreaded relations
I would only lightly
briefly touch down
on one night stands
but more often than not
preferring my own company

Step outside, feel,the sharp air across your cheek.
move forward, sensory overload
Expelled into the universe..

Explode hurtle into society, be free
Thrust, penetrate the world .
Fuck it into reality.

Blow away all obstacles 
Dominate, smack it into submission
Live each day like there will never be another.

He danced on Love’s fiery coals
their heat exciting his heart
as Lent lilies by Wind’s tune.
His quill mercilessly bled
lucid verse on his ardour;
and his violin’s serenades
infused night’s serene quiescence.

Ah, but this cruel absence
his sanity now pervades
and strips his heart to the core.
Yet he by Love’s promise led-
drawn into approaching monsoon-
yields and partakes of the hurt
as no memory recalls.

Head bowed, he’ll stand- in his hand,
a lonely withered camellia.

The street lamps are reflecting pools of light
From the rain soaked roads
and others peek out from the darkened trees
Cold and clammy night
has fallen just behind the tree line

The roots crept slowly through the yard
Inching toward her feet
She didn't even notice
that the devil called her sweet

Where nothing short of evil could be found
Tendrils crawling on the velvet ground
The moon
blood red usurped the sky
Bat wings flutter
night hawks fly

You are not a single Z
but the essence
of originality and creativity,
as in these few words ,
you exhibit the cause of our very being

...''...the marrow and the circumstance
when all is clear in that moment
of oblivion.....what essence of ecstasy

I remember three gals,
teens discussing what it was,
the human male penis .

The old ones were good at makin’ lives for themselves,
the back swamps of New Orleans
made some mean fuckers that never gave up.
They didn’t need those needles
or dead flowers to get by in the world
like the young today.

Wild man illustrated man silent man
speak
unsay yourself
wild woman unwritten woman Goddess
sublime
sing your serpent's tongue
split the cosmos
and show your asshole,
show how it all began
poet be damned, poet be the mouth
that knows no song when all else fails
the truth, do not rest upon your
written page, rage
the devil's delivery
rage upon Shiva's dance
let all things come together
as if by chance, the morrow,
the marrow and the circumstance

brother, sister poet
mother, father, son, daughter poet
friend, soul-mate, lover poet
rival, antagonist, enemy poet
I hear your silences

the silence of pain that would obliterate you
of vision demeaned by mere words
of your guilt and innocence
I hear you

the silence when you don’t know the words
when you don’t know the shape for them
how to mold them,
I hear

and sometimes I can just hear you.