I’m Fine

I’m fine and totally in control

have this card from my therapist

 

that proves I’m completely sane,

since I guessed enough times

until I saw what he said was there.

 

Now when those people at work look at my strange

from talking to the aliens in my coffee cup

all I do is flash this image

as my certified evidence I’m alright.

 

Why it even works on creditors

who come to my house

after I kiss it to show I love it so

then talk to the deity living in the ink

so I can tell them when the world will end,

amazingly they are so impressed they never come back.

 

It’s also great for parties

while I have one of my spells

think I’m a Walrus named Big Fishy,

before long they give me all the food I  want,

but naturally leave me alone afterwards,

apparently so impressed by my normalcy slip.

 

And should I ever get down

all I do is mosey over to my friend,

he lives in that padded room,

yet he’s got a card just like me too,

showed it to the judge during his trial

now he’s living the good life

at this vacation resort with free happy pills.

 

TRUST ME

I am the echo rising from all your secret shadows and chasms

bringing healing vibrations from underneath a golden raiment of oracle oratory.

My voice sings with the serenity of a seraphim's celestial trump

dripping a lucid glaze deep into your soul.

Light of the ages faithfully carried by ethereal hands

now shines so fiercely from my eyes.

 

But it is the words gushing from the well eternal

that I give you to drink

which carves its mystery and awe

into the mesmerized filet of your will.

 

Succumb, succumb!

My aura whispers each thought paralyzing incantations,

draping your essence like a death shroud

till the only life you can feel

burns from the lightning strokes of my guidance,

searing your brain with murals of images beyond this world,

when I conjure the novas of star ecstasy through my lips,

leading you passed any sense of what you believed is real.

 

My third eye's wand creates the awakening radiance in your heart,

animating your ever dream and desire

as hope's richest possibility.

 

Till you beg in agony of deliverance to know

whether I truly bring hell or heaven.

To which I utter my fateful, ominous assurance,

trust me.

 

My glowing tears

 

My insides feel the heat, like the sun in the veins,

breath nearly panting, heart racing

every time her face touches my mind.

 

No day exists as life at all

without her image to dress my soul

feeling that cloth of silky desire

she lovingly wraps around me,

practically squeeze each moment in my thoughts

till I nearly explode from the radiation of joy

when I think of how my love for her

so utterly and completely makes me slave,

worshipping her constantly

dreaming of her day and night,

twitching from the shear intensity

when thinking about the heights of cupid's sky

she has taken my bleeding heart.

 

Mind swirls in torrid ache

waiting each day for her voice

to give me the very blood to keep living.

 

Angel's truly dwell among us and one put her wings

around me, holding so tightly

taking me to the deepest of passion's lairs

for heartbeats that leave one hopelessly trembling,

knowing a happiness beyond what lips could dare to dream.

 

A Hammer Some Tape And It Will All Be Good

When you live in an apartment

repairs are easy,

just dial the landlord and hope

his alcoholic, brain dead oaf of a maintenance guy

shows up and can fix whatever is broke,

 no worries since it is his problem.

 

But when it is your house,

there is no one to call,

it is all on your back

nothing gets taken care of

unless you do it some way.

 

Course you have options

like reaching some contractor on the phone

that you found in the yellow pages

who will charge you $200 to come out,

look at you problem and say it needs fixed.

 

So to save money

you go down to the home improvement center

where some part time, minimum wage clerk,

busy on his cell phone talking to his girl friend

about some totally silly dribble

finally stops long enough to listen to your question.

 

Naturally, he doesn’t have a clue,

which electrical part out of 50 in the bins

will replace the one you have that broke

or says it needs a special tool

that they don’t carry in their store.

 

It’s all part of the joy of homeownership,

after a while you learned

homes really are a dream,

just not always in a good way

if it involves some problem

in need or repair,

but at least I now have a garage full of tools,

some I even know how they work,

still not sure on what though,

someday I imagine I’ll figure it out.

Tummy Tales

Smiles melt a grandma’s heart

why look all the fun things

that she does for me,

this warm white shirt

and clean diapers,

plus this soft frog pillow too.

 

Hope it works

when something ends up

in this cloth on my bottom

because she doesn’t look as happy

any time that happens.

 

Still I learn what love is,

since granny treats me great

even when that smell

makes her nose wrinkle.

 

Now this is hard,

never had a lesson,

figured it out by watching

how granny reacted by my behavior.

So I’ll keep practicing my cuteness,

play with toes for a special pose,

for sooner or later

it will get me a bottle of yummy

to put in my tummy.

OF CATERED SMILES

 

The lips move

with a feigned

and innocuous uttering

as if their curl

could be eradicate

what is counterfeit

from the heart’s mint.

Still

by philosophical dregs

absorbed with the stench

of rotting ethics

one lights a candle

symbolically stained.

Calling it

humanitarianism

though it is devoid

any quintessential

ingredient

that might express

a presence of conscience.

Epic Failure

Between the tents and music

it felt like a celebration,

people milling around the park

for this grand rally of vision,

the publicized event to honor

a time for change and hope

when politicians gave speeches of promises for the future.

 

Was in the middle of the inner city

a place where poverty and gangs

had left it marked by graffiti

and the sorrow of drive by shootings.

 

But today beneath the stunning blue sky with balloons in the air

there was a spirit of expectation,

this time perhaps the poor would really get some help.

 

Only the days passed after the party,

no money came or change,

instead things got worse

some existing programs were cancelled

until the suffering turned to sobs by even larger groups of neglected.

 

Back at the edifices of legislation

this timeless disaster that had lasted for ages,

merely became another victim of the system

that had denied the needy their rights,

only it was buried under so many photos

from that gala occasions on that day.

 

They were the images framed and on the wall

rather than the lives abandoned

who were left in the shadows

like they never existed.

Peacock Glimpses

In the middle of field at midnight,

wandered as a meadow of slumber’s blades,

are remembered those proud plumes

of peacock fantasies

that riveted the mind

when holding onto the vision

about a time of spreading feathers

meant to become the splendor truly dwelling

inside the chambers of the heart.

 

Images flower in that nocturnal play land,

kaleidoscope tints in vivid energy

paint the passage with their power,

they are given life in their radiance.

Then swiftly covering the day with those colors

from deep within the spirit

while eyes study time’s tapestry with surreal textures

and seek the glow lost to the past.

 

Truly wishing that dappled rainbow sight

represented all the hues in one’s existence,

which would have allowed the bird within

a chance to have paraded in such exquisite expressions.

 

Unable to keep those creations from fading,

nervously holding onto the silver in hope

about the possibility of still becoming an artist

the aviary essence of creation

completely stunning and amazing,

like the one sleeping somewhere

amid the inescapable darkness.

 

Spicy

Hot and zesty

one drop can totally flame,

because life

without creative sauce

is like having a lymph taco

for your brain.

OF NIGHT AND LUSTER

The fickle

and tyrannical torch

of duty

slips me

into the obsidian feast.

Within the multi-chasms

where the mind is fed

I feel the polished

inklings

setting fire

to my soul.

They burn

as shining emblems

among the stars,

which I wear

as my dreams.

Clouds

fill my void

till the world

no longer seems as bleak.

Reverie’s Resonance

The mind gazes through that cerebral window of night

intensely basking in the glow of that array in visionary sight,

lets its image be a potent weight that pounds with a lucid drum,

while it summons a figment wing to flutter with a metaphoric hum.

 

Sandman’s breath blows a zephyr wind in lofty collages of creativity

that inspires a reverberation in the head of fancy’s vibrant activity,

it sends those stirring waves in transforming thoughts into the brain

as they take word shape to form a flow out of the fingers like a drain.

 

Suddenly the wall to truth crumbles amid that new view in reverie light

beyond the ordinary and into the caricatured wilderness of abstract delight,

where the weather shines as iridescent storms of hidden symbolic meaning

so challenging to biases and the prejudices that are so very demeaning.

 

Upon the mattress magic carpet is a glide that pierces the mental waste,

which reveals the sub-conscious effigies whose essence is now embraced,

when all the notions carved like wax statues melt in that epiphany fire

and you feel the vibrations of freeing summon a new clarity’s desire.

 

Ever does eve’s curtain over that slumbering stage of dream land

have so many thuds and thunders resound by their image band,

when it becomes a play where wish begins writing the act that is seen,

experienced in the Quixotic theater as a performance subtle and serene.

 

Upon the day there comes a burgeoning awakening to each stare

for it allows the eyes to discern what exists with so much more care,

look past the ordinary that is detected with a casual sense of flair

because you can sense more intently the slightest disturbance in the air.

 

Washed Away

 

The devoted members of the First Baptist Church dunker redemption squad

are joyously doing their bucket brigade baptism form of outreach,

while in the bushes hide the gospel tract cavalry

ready to rush in and launch their sermonized salvation attack.

 

Today was a very big day for their washed away sin campaign

already drenched shoppers at a mall and in a theater,

now they’re out to save everyone at every school,

even have a healing service afterwards for the ones that get pneumonia.

Mazes

The path before the eyes

is never black and white

it seldom is strolled for free

across some farm rich land

where a cow awaits to bless with milk.

 

Within the heart is a labyrinth of landscapes

from gardens to graveyards,

they aren’t found on any computer

and you can’t stop traveling

even when there is no sense of peace.

 

Because we are born with a reservation

in the middle of that maze in questions

where the darkness inspires

so many forms of impulse as itch and urge.

 

Though at times the confusion makes you ill,

others it is so cold and lonely

you beg for a fur coat to warm

before the risk of death looms in its dread.

 

Still there is the gnawing inside,

an unbearable lure of curiosity,

to find an exit door from the uncertainty,

discover some glass walls,

which are a invisible screen

that reveals the truth you long to find.

 

And despite the discouraging dismay

over the dead ends and detours

inside the spirit still holds onto a light

from the candle of what is your guiding flame

until at last you find

a portal to the place you were meant to be.

Tsunami Thoughts

Trickles in theorems treated as dripping solutions,

a trace instead of tide to truly transcend,

while the suffering tread water.

But through the current in cerebral surges

rushes those thoughts in startling essence,

which can rip away at minds and perceptions.

 

They start out like small droplets

seemingly insignificant in their substance,

slowly swelling as they immerse so many

in their swells of insight

as the truth grows

and becomes a Tsunami in influence,

totally sweeping over many isles in opinions

until it consumes misunderstandings and bias,

quickly drowning them beneath a wave in facts.

 

Submersed are the lives unwilling to change

that refuse to yield unto the altering power,

who cling to their rafts of prejudice,

think they are able to stay afloat

against a flood in transforming sway.

 

It is shear force of epiphany’s stream

that destroys the mental barriers

unto the evolving progress of life.

 

Amid the sea in constant transition

too often sail the vessels of status quo,

how quickly they sink in the wake

of veracity’s flow they refuse to accept.

 

One light

One light

shining from within

can burn so bright in any darkness.

 

Shadows might swallow one's sight,

turning any dream's shine to a hopeless night,

yet as long as we still

cling to that vision's flame

struck by God's match of love,

our hearts will not

feel the coldness

any eve's of doubt

might chill upon our soul.

 

To believe with the heart

grows eyes over the spirit,

casting a glow

which brings heaven's promises

into our black closets of fear.

 

Facing the clouds and seeing rain,

instead of merely storms

we listen for the thunder

knowing it is not danger,

but instead is

the voice of God.

 

As long as our eyes

never loss their hearing

for the tones of divine blessings

in expectancy

ringing out no matter other noise,

then we can always find treasure

where others see

trash.

Eve’s Enchanted Embers

Flashes and flickers flare as festoons in vibrant pearls of light,

strung as soothing necklaces across the charmed festive street.

Gently swayed by the magical touch flowing from every sight,

yielding to the enchanted embers that bring the heart their heat.

Glows from the store windows add their serene allure to the night,

slowly surrendering to the eve’s wand of a fairy tale’s ambience treat.

 

Youthful yearnings erupt amid the enticing whiffs of café smells,

lofty serenades of musicians lift the spirit into airy moments of bliss.

Yearning to submerse completely into the moment’s euphoric spells,

gratefully gleaning each intoxicating array in a sweet sensory kiss.

Yarns of childhood ring in the head like the sounds of silver bells,

softly they immerse the mind into fantasia’s appealing tranquil abyss.

 

If This Don’t Beat All

Howdy ma’am we uns was just passing through

while hitching a ride on that truck of fertilizer

on our way to check out this tent

when the old lady done seen your sign,

shouted ‘tarnation Elmer look at dat.”

 

We’ll we just jumped right off that dang thing,

good thang the youngins bounce so rightly well

and even fix little Sally Ann Becky Sue’s crosseyes too.

 

All I can say is this is the bestest dern most fancy place

that I ever done seen,

it would do us proud ifen youd let us stay a spell,

on account of anything be an improvement

over trying to get all six of our kids

to sleep all night at that outhouse behind the bar

where I play poker for drinks and the wife is a cocktail waitress.

Get tired of her having to go in back to fetch the booze,

wash the dishes and scrub the floors

lot of work for a gal eight months pregnant.

 

I’ll tell you sure gets hard finding new bushes

for using as a bathroom

since that dern outhouse done got clogged up,H

reckon shouldn’t have tried to let our pet skunk

try and fit into that place.

 

Now good news is we is all set

for being the bestest renters you’ve ever seen,

why we do learn from our last time of renting

so you never worry

because we knows better this time

than to try and check to see how much gas there is

in a gas can by using a cigarette lighter.

 

Do you happen to offer any of them fancy things

heard about, but never seen,

like that thing called indoor plumbing,

honest never seen any pipe stuck in a door before.

 

As for the rent we will always be on time

though our cuckoo clock is busted,

cus Ethel takes in laundry for cash,

she’s doing great too,

got her one of them washing machines

you know that tub with a washing board,

works better than when she just washed stuff in the cesspool.

 

So when can we move it,

need to know right way

before the dump closes

then we have time to look for a bed.

A Waltz of Tongues

 

Slithering salvia lusciously licking

its lascivious lip legerdemain

slowly snaking around a heart

in a lurid seductive strokes

that made his eyes bulge with passion's fiery fancy.

 

For her it was a dance of feathers

meant to tease and taunt

using suggestive hints of heaven found in shadows

where secrets are exposed,

carefully crafted with pauses

between strategically selected phrases.

 

How the sway of intimate seconds

snarls the senses,

as a vice grip in tensions squeezed,

steadily enclosing the veins

with volcanic surges in desire's lava.

 

All the siren's voice sought

was to impale this latest prey

upon on a spike of deception

which left a bloodied soul holding a dance card,

numbers given to rendezvous to her private steps

written in fabrication's ink.

 

But unlike other balls

of mental foreplay attended

this time it reaped a different ending,

finding out unlike some dancers

she only chose to grant one song's parlay,

this one treated the music as magic

and offered a lead casserole

just to keep the steps of his cravings

prancing all night long.

Visions

Phantasm inferno having its pilot light extinguished,

blood's fiery pigments turning colorless,

seeping into quintessence chasms

where ambitions are a hibernating bears

sleeping through a winter without reverie's wind.

 

Fervor's torch use to shine upon pulse's canvas

neglected along with all the throbbing paint bushes,

artist inside so used to embracing strokes

suffers atrophy in the orbs of tears and smiles,

slowly withering from the lack of heat.

 

Cupid's corpse grows putrid in the coffin

being embalmed for fear of rising

and stretching a membrane of longing

over the hours spent savoring ashen skies

because the heart paralyzed with ardor's rigor mortis.

 

Pinprick of figment incandescent streaks into one's crypt

resurrecting with care's breath the decay of conviction

until fairy tales and rainbow grow again in one's garden

and hugs become as precious a pearls,

thunderbolts striking in copious elegance, eyes growing fingers that smile.

 

MELODY DRIPS

I go wild from the sweet scent and intoxicating stir I feel

that comes from tasting your precious juices

when my lips and tongue ravenously make love to your clitoris and vagina

sucking upon their luscious nectar

till your reservoir of desire breaks and drenches my face.

 

But it is when I hear those intense

groans of pleasure,

uttered so deeply and glorious from where your heart is a tigress --

primal animal passions of savagery grunted to my delight,

create a song that makes me so hard.

 

Between the flow of begging you ooze from inside

and the cadence of writhing tones,

the music of your arching gasps plays while my lips strums their passion strokes

upon your so incredibly silky love buttons,

my body and mind quickens in a crazed burning for its own satisfaction.

 

Waiting till that last crescendo of orgasmic screams touches my ears,

which my soaked and slippery mouth musicians so eagerily seek to orchestrate,

do I then prepare for the wetness symphony of climax ecstasy

with my penis baton gesturing its own serenade 

within you till it to brings,

melody drips.

 

 

Pendulums

The heart swings in morning reflections

between love and hate

when left in the mind’s hammock

to move towards those memories,

which stir winds from the past

and those dreams of the future.

 

Then to pause and look at the sun

that light that burns so deeply

with the truth that is today,

let its fire open the eyes

so you can see the place

where you truly dwell.

 

Little postcards of thoughts

arrive in the mail of the brain,

they are from the images

of those rainbows, gardens and clouds

you wished were reality.

 

Slowly moving again

by the breeze that life creates

another day in that pendulum

ever visiting tears and smiles,

just hoping to get off eventually

even though it is a habit

truly so hard to stop.

 

Pillar Of The Community

 

His widow sat in the chapel’s front row

dressed in black and blubbering as practiced,

the Pastor stood at his pulpit

voice booming a sermonized eulogy

before the throng of relatives, friends,

followers and visitors,

while pausing occasionally to look at the black coffin.

 

Nobody was close enough to notice the wine on Reverend’s breath,

so carefully he had learned to keep from slurring his words,

especially when lecturing on the evils of alcohol.

But today was a chance to say his saintly pious speech

over a pillar of the community

such a fine soul indeed,

how his tongue whitewashed each shadow of that life,

Amens uttered to confirm the passing of this devoted man,

father, husband, a true testimony to righteous living.

 

Casket kept the truths unseen to be buried in his plot

about his gambling addiction and ruthless illegal business practices,

abuse scars to kids and marriage without any sex or care,

still by the time the minister was done

all that was painted in the absent of objections

was a portrait of godly life who was headed for heaven.

 

After the service they shuffled by that box,

each keeping up the pretense to preserve their own lies,

tonight they’ll swim in  a grape fermented river

until they are all drunk, but keep the smell behind close doors,

be able to sober up for the big temperance meeting tomorrow.

 

Last in line as a woman none of the others knew,

she was wearing some plain red dress

who reeked of cheap perfume,

why she came was hard to say,

just seemed appropriate for one of her steady johns.

 

Street instincts detected the falseness in this charade

couldn’t help and think in some ways

perhaps with her was the only time

he was truly naked and honest.

Before Sunset

 

Before sunset sweeps the sky

with its broom to brush away the light,

afternoon summons so many memories

of what was a smile that went to the one

and what caused the pains in frowns that wouldn't leave,

countless questions to fill the long shadows

while the wind blows its thought through the mind.

tt brings the breeze that has so many memories

of the places traveled and lives touched

each time of laughter and those of tears.

 

For those final rays of the sun

when the tangerine glow still warms the skin,

just hurrying to try and answer

all the doubts that came as unwelcome visitors.

 

When you're alone in that twilight conversation

between reflections and wishes,

can’t stop the night from coming

or repaint the pictures painting

from what has already been done.

 

To sit and let the dusk come,

still reach for some hope kept in the pocket,

because there is always a sunrise

where you can still live again,

have a chance to make the next end of a day

one that comes with more reason to celebrate,

feel the joy from doing something right

instead of the sadness over all that went wrong.