...the entombing of my soul....

writing free, writing me. writing anywhere but where I’m supposed to be. crippled crutch of a bunch of past mistakes and errors. my stoop with raven in northern oregon, pour it on me so lightly. these days pass like half forgotten nightmares. the past, dashed upon my tomb with doom from my actions, my words split surge across her mind like an untimely visit from death. i trudge on through shattered after effects of my soul destroyed on impact. redact the lines so fine from the seas in me and her. soaring, whoring, deploring the deplorable actions of i. why lie? why live? this life so amassed by pipe bombs and war songs,…my soul should split shift to the rift in the atlantic, my panic and freeze step questions the morality of why i exist. land torn and seas split. the day i live or die doesn’t seem to remind the gods that i exist or persist. just hail smashing, rotten fruit bearing, of the entombing of my soul. broken whole upon the deflecting of love from my once whole bidding.

...the hacienda’s guitar...

…i don’t want to remember, the life, the dreams, the split seams in the sofa meant for two, seating one. one, me. alone, stoned past, hashed out to the max. yearning for one more toke, to choke back some vodka in a half-remembered day-mare. i don’t want to remember.

last night like an asteroid splitting the night sky you appear in my dreams. me and you, remembering and singing the praises of the old days. i’m surprised i wasn’t awoken with the smell of tobacco and stolen whiskey.

the days of our past, just smashed like age old reveries haunting me. another affair with a dare to come back to you. something in my sub-conscious tearing at my soul to make you whole. when all i do is sing praises of your days.

if i could, i would rearrange whole the toll we placed upon each other and smother one another in molasses and sweet sticky love-making syrup. tear up the bad days and replace them with something more foundational for our relational toll.

but all i’m stuck with is a protection order from another state and a death stare from you in my objectionable reality.

refract with me into trapeze flips and skips of the flip book into something more atoning for our home. my home. my stoned face staring at your goofy baked smile, laughing at something you just can’t quite place, at our second place, in parker. kicking it, and kicking me out before i could shout that tonight was gonna be a good night.

i suppose these poems are for me, and me alone. i write to the daylight, the sun strife, the moonbeams under sundae candy. the taffy dental floss in our teeth of grief with one another. cover me, cover me, cover me,…

i want to fight with you, for you, inside of you…or her, or that other girl over there, dare me to stress the seam and i will bend backwards to fill up and overflow your goddess goblet. straight lit with intention of no pension or mortgage, just a forfeiture of ego in a joker toked acid hit. with you,…god i would love to trip with you and see you flip at the sight of the one fight, the one goal of whole overfilling and undoing of one’s ego. and the jokes, and laughs, and acid baths we could have shared sear like hot wax off a car detail.

icicles at winter park know our name. my fame smeared around the internet like infant poo to call you home. so i guess for you, it’s either poo at home or poo on the road. stoned though. baffling applications of reduction. impossible concentration. redacted refractions. sightly deconstruction.

write me sometime, if you see this, which you won’t. i’m home most days and I don’t bite. hard. i bite very hard. but i guess what i’m trying to say is i miss you, her, it. that thing of youth swept under the rug like a bug infestation of memory. that’s why i say i don’t want to remember….the notes, the chords, the songs, i just want your bong in my hand demanding to be filled again to the brim with some sweet sticky icky. prickly pear juice and a noose around both our necks for the defeat we laid upon uncle sam’s feet. outlaws without inlaws.

i would cry to you, and i might, because it’s been so long even the fog song of your last memory echoing in my brain of you….you washing apples…getting ready to make caramel apples, in the saddle with you late night at mcdonalds, 120 degree heat and my stupid fishing trips to alligator lake while you at home bake cakes, and muffins with delight. teaching you to fish…i miss you.

but i don’t want to remember, or dream, or breathe, until you, or someone just like you, lies inside my arms. and i protect her to the ends of the earth, until the end of time.

where’d you go i guess i would ask. was it me? was it my anger? my youthful resentment that you had, and will always have your own life? was it my cheating heart? was it that other guy’s fart? i’m not sure most days, all i know is i continue to play my guitar, your guitar, your hands wrapped around my hands, wrapped around the hacienda’s guitar…rendezvous with me to the hacienda on fort sam. with weed, whiskey, acid, mushrooms and lots of cigarettes. kool’s i believe and maybe a pack American spirits or two…see you there tonight, and every night…in my dreams alone, stoned with you on a ride down south your acne kiss mouth i swear i could swallow like a bottle of youth serum.

dream britani…

...no time to die...

…as the snow melts outside the jail so does my affectation for relations. simple delve dives into sweet sighs of romanticism in this division. i scope on for a swan song of my bachelor days, looking to sweep away the days of intoxicated death dives in hive mind of recurring nightmares. i dare this soul to sit upright in flight to the tight overbearings of my future. through the days so repeatedly singing on i strive for a tighter upbringing of my souls hope for the moment. her, her, her,…stinging my bee belly into a hive rash of stashes and swallows of the bottles so fleeting. a dead love cried for and implored in my sword and dead memories trudging me through this dark day into a darker night. i search for meaning in the right song, the wrong bong, the pouring of the bottle into my throttle so festered by a pestering blistered past dashed upon the rocks. on the rocks, straight, still from the will of the distiller,…anyway to get the sweet liquor quicker into my bloodstream deeming me mad. sad reflections of meaning steaming through the night as my heart and soul lift into that dark ether of pinhole dotted nothingness. i cry on for a new tomorrow, something to borrow, to lend, a friend in the end of this sad unrequited love story. matrimony only for some but not for this bum. teeth shattered i clatter among the lost song. our little kick-roll, our little death dive, falling so far out of aspect into that deathly hallow of a borrowed time, a forgotten rhyme, a missed sign. i can still smell that sweet sticky icky prickly cologne of my home. buried in the walls after years of tears and shotgun blasts to myself and past. her ACU pants dancing in the firefight….firelight, so tight around her waist my hands demanding another second of peace. her service not put to waste but praised and acclaimed as the new GI Jane, her fame in my heart, her imprint on my soul like a toll to wake up. her. keeping me breathing in cardio-pulmonary sexuality. the memories haunting me like a deep demon i tackle her in her first snow and smear her face in icicles and snowflakes of no fake. my service woman, my embattled rattle shaking goddessship i praise thee for the weeks, days, months, and years you were dear to me and I’ll never let you go….for the snow…

...to sink ink...

…to sink some ink deep in this creeps life. putting pen to paper, writing to spite the fight in me to defeat and relapse, mishap, and forget about how far i’ve come in the sun’s rays. fighting for another day of making my way. reaching, creeping, out into the manifold of told truths and severed bonds.

her, her, her, just repeating like a bell’s whisper in my dashed past of a ship set to mast. i know another day will never come with her in my sun, but i sit. guilty of crimes i cannot name and re-framing my purpose in this life through his wife. my dying sighing on of a lords song just sifting ashes and waves to come. undone the belt of my relapse and attacks on my soul from unwhole biddings overwhelm my spirit, and clear it to a new past of highs and death defying corkscrews of consciousness expanding heights. i sight my demise coming like the sunning of the moons rays at night. the light of the moon crying on for me to find my new love, my new coven, but all i can seem to muster is a whisper into a planned future escape.

i plan to kill myself with my addiction as soon as possible, to no ones chagrin, just a passing whisper of dust settling on the manifold of time. it would seem my time here has been spent and will be spent refracting back on the misdeeds and actions i have chose to make as an addict.

no one tells you as an addict how difficult your life will be in the long run. just undone mishaps and violent rhetoric and attacks on the ones you love the most, left with a contemplation after the high and drunk so sunk into the suicide you hide from the sun. my gun robbed and actions refracted back upon my soul of a toll far too costly for me to see with.

my vision blind and trudging on i cry for a new way only to find old memories and new addictions to friction my bent and broken chalice of self.

i can’t wait until i close my eyes for the last surprise of being and no longing seeing this reality and its shattered past clattering on in my mind.

i cry for an end to the bending of spirit and die everyday i don’t see her. i wish for my last will and testament to be nothing more than a gentle breeze. leaving behind nothing more than i took. the hook in my brain for substance has me at my end.

i will dearly depart to the stars far from here and hopefully smile back upon those i love, my family and friends.

...the russian spy...

…the russian spy, spying my eye. spying my heart for a start anew. her eyes, her hair, daring me to plunge inside of her at the speed of light. i might, seeing her beauty, truly shining through the dark like a heartbeat starting to seep deep green into my soul. on the whole she make me smile, for a while or maybe more. i implore her of her story, in me, outside of me, cruising for a soothing of her heart. in formality i’m falling deep in love with another…not another cigarette kiss….but a morning toast christmas wish list of twinkling presents in her whole eyes…her, she, we…daring to split the soaring sky so high of implorable impossibilities, and she….so perfect in her style and smile…lilting my spirits into a fervor of dance even the elves couldn’t match. just edging the corner of our relationship’s twists and turns. i speak of the russian spy in my eye with her glances for chance at enlightenment of temperament. she came to me like a flash in the night, afright with how hard my heart may fall for her that night we met, like she was sent from the spirits on high. this big bang soaring across the vacuum of time and space just to see her turn and face me. i facing her. staring…wondering if this could be something. like silt from sand she demands my graces and spaces my smiles like dominos falling one at a time, cascading my being into seeing something more than pain. my refrain calling her to come back home. come to me and dance…dance girl dance…like this is all we have. let me hold you and mold me into a sculpture that will rupture my past and let me lay you down like a fine cloth, so soft her grace and why. i cry at the thought of not seeing her posture every day, time separates and debates may re-rake the takings of the hourglass, but lets last. let’s make something more whole of this. twist and shout about the love you found amidst the fight…this night, this day i will pray for her swaying hips, her giggle to be the squiggle in my eye. i give breadth to her composure and bow at her altar of her supposition and grace. this face has my heart in a headlock, crying not for air but to die in her arms. to fight inside her battle. to live inside her life. my wife. my…gahhh….

...this cigarette kiss...

this cigarette kiss….not the old worn out, torn out, ripped asunder kiss….but a new, true, under the moon, for the love of god, renewed my soul cigarette kiss…with her,…she who cannot be named…soon to disappear into that near death of a relapse,…or hopefully into a new stage with me and our rage…and our love…shoving our organs into one another to smother the hate and malice fed around the world on a daily. pay me…with her kisses daily and nightly and I will bow at her feet, worshiping her as my teddy bear goddessship. ripping the scabs off from old love and stiffening at the sight of her lovely face and her lip gloss smeared all over my lips and chin like a sin I dig to find. into her I want to be, night and day, praying for a new way into her hips holding me like hot ice on my sins. the thought of her, has me addicted to those securing hugs and her life beaconing me to be free and live now and shower in her morning smile. crying in my sleep for her to lie next to me, her cries affect me. I want to protect and deflect all pain and trauma from her. wishing for a day in which we could snuggle in a bubble of tobacco, cannabis & red wine. her sweetness overcomes me with a gratitude of being alive. writing songs and singing melodies for her friend in me. i need her. like the stars need the sky, like the moon needs to cry, like the sun oh so high…i need to be inside her like a tiger hunting for passion, her cigarette kiss floods and flushes my body with blood erotic.. I need her. I can’t stand her away from me….her tender love lighting my darkest night into a fight for passionate orgasms. my mind spasms with the thought of seeing her again…only her, in my periphery, in my front and center, legs spread high like eagles with the steeple crumbling as we shout our ecstatic moans of joy. her toy, my play thing…us as a couple for the doubling of joy….just a week or so more darling….hold on for me….hold on TO me…I need her, I need her, I need her…

...stiff collar...

A stiff collar, and even stiffer drinks I would assume, tonight in a torn asunder wonderland of amazement and wonderment, I find the time so fleeting through this keyhole once whole, flooding the up and coming fighting masses with disaster for a clatter action stacked racquetball overcoming, un-dumbing the sung color hung for the order of the mortar spread across land and sea, the being fleeing the scene like a listless Christmas, the colors of the halogen bulbs flicker in a repose of wonder and colors unmatched by the spectrums of electrums floating through a sea of charged particles, frolic the dairy aisle with rough and tumble melodies from we, those hung on a color, those battled for a rattle, clinging, stinging we press on to that over amassed oneness creeping through dream and wake. taking this chitter chatter over the whipped batter of ego and coupling with a suckling of love I devote to you, the glorious implorable worshipfullness. of this is it. the timing, structure and lining and lust for her. the daring soaring spirit splitting the ions in the air with a truth or dare serum too true to bruise to, just cruise control from here to the daring inoppourtunistic wishes dangling from the remnants of a once whole regime. just being the seeing and tasting the sweat on her breast like milk for a baby still suckling on the pain and trauma, just for once, trusting the golden scepter of her. I climb on into this, forever, forever. 19FEB2023

...the quenching of the tears...

this new day, claiming whole upon impact, redacted dreams about her, or she, or that other girl over there, this pair split asunder by the wonder of the breath on my tongue. conniving and tying the sexual knot tighter, we seek to defeat the elf machine madness and drown our suffering in a ring of attachment and correct erect presence of self and being, seeing these broken stolen souls, even mine, just defined by the rest and activity, but never seeing we, seeing truth, the spirit ripped and torn in two by the boys in blue, my broken back and shoulder trudge on through this dream of tricky words in a sticky keyboard, could we afford the depths of God’s graces in our dreams so blind do we even then reach out to the aspects of other and smother each other in a suckling, coupling of hearts and souls,…bodies breaching out for another in the still darkness of this night to come, undone upon her aviators and navigating eye I cry, no, weep,…for her stillness, lost in my early morning dream like steam from her perfected laundry. Pawn me. Sell me door to door for a sight of something more to come yet undone upon the shelf of a redacted attacked lovers scorn, this door, cracking open to re-amass this dash of airlessness in this. buckled, coupled, suckled and shoveled for the right to love, and love, and love some more. sliding into her like a sir destined for retribution with my past amassed pipe dreams and split seams, I listen for my Goddessship to cry and moan with her orgiastic self, flying through, quelching, spastic, wet, death defying, whore-moaning screams of agonizing pleasure, to measure the depths of that which we will call our love, smothering ourselves in ourselves, leaving only time to tell the story of we. tying the knot of our connection into the very atoms that burst into existence billions of years ago, simply to get us to meet each other. her star stuff checking my star stuff, stuffing, and untying knots, while wrapping the present of presence to one another in a matrimony of honey and liquor…19FEB2023

...the burning of the soul...

…burn in, burn out, just don’t forget to shout,….about these daily miracles, shackled or soaring we implore to delve into the deepening maddness stricken in our wicked souls,….crossing that border or insane lamented in a repented love of the above,…and the below, we stow our tear for days past and to come, into that fading sun we race to pace the ever forming outcome of one sum lump payment of hallelujah!!! for we reach so deep and breathy into that rising moon, soon to be abused by our minds and bodies toll to hearken on into this love affair and daring, splitting of spirit, tying the knot with our hearts and in our stomachs to conjoin this twin of sin, and evolve into that fair perplexed monkey we seem to be, soaring on an aphrodisiac of God’s pure intention for our souls and lives, we strive on for another sun, moon, deep sleep, creeping past our minds eyes to deceive of us of what we know is true, the delving into matter and the sparkle of the soul, whole tolling upon our hearts like fire quenching the waters of our fathers and mothers ignorance. this whole tolling of love and being climbing into the ceiling like popcorn butter, we flutter our little hearts into that still small moment of grace, placing our belongings in the upright and forward positions for take off we we dare to split that sieving seam into something more becoming and revelatory for we,….singing off the ends of this bender we cry for humanity and love in this twisted puzzle of a game we call life, the strife impacting the whole, lifting and splitting in a trillion refracted attacked atoms, just crying, singing, being for one, we sludge on through the deaths and depths this world so orgiastic and plastic ended, we lilt our hats to the ever present oneness and cry for forgiveness of this. this tearing multiplicity in this city. i pray for you all..may we find peace, wholeness, oneness, and an end to the madness, or a beginning, I just pray for another day, another way for us all….18FEB2023