Tuesday, March 29, 2011

'Why does it beat so fast?' You ask.
That's just the sound of blood rushing to the wound
'Why do you breath so deeply?'
I want to take in every breath as if it's my last.

Bringing my body into question
Is your way of asking, 'How are you?'
If you want it, well let's then.
Just remember it's not for one, but two.

If I rub you the wrong way,
Please don't bite the hand that loves you.
And should your ridge fray,
No hand will be bit, no order obeyed.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Book tabs, bar tabs, and bills.
The sounds of glasses clashing
With tinkle-twinkle chimes.
Drunks mumble and mutter
Whiskey soaked words;
Best under their breath
Because a direct hit
Would kill, or
At least maim.
The stench could knock
A barfly off of his own
Shit-pile of words.
Again we meet with trepidation.
Long since we've used our imaginations,
Locked in hypothesis and rhetoric.
Laying engaged in thought, we seldom practice.
All theory, little action; every kiss with a preface.
In our tandem think-tank, not all is shared.
A thought explored deemed unworthy is shelved.
Annexes of annals adding and multiplying constantly.
That is how much I hide.
We get high off our own breath,
Heads locked, frontal lobes rub
In attempt to transmit our
Thoughts into each others skulls.
Psychic sex happens when:
You worship their mind,
You praise each thought,
Each expression of wit,
You fell in love with the essence
Of a curvy shell containing the brain.
Body be dammed,
Let me ravage your words.

Friday, March 25, 2011

At first sight, I will
Embrace my silver hairs.
Signs of my own mortality;
Reminders that all grows old.
Weak joints and muscles can
Fuck off politely, but
Grey locks will be answered
When they knock on my door.

No estimated-time-of-arrival,
That's part of the surprise.
One can only surmise the
Ewer from which, they pour
Over my head is age,
Not shock.

There will be no plucking
Of follicles; receding lines
Make every strand precious.
And I say, 'Hell no!' to dying;
I might as well scorch then
Salt the earth. Let nature run
Its course; Never agile, always
Gradual--The subtlety of life
Is what I value.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Tip Her More

Who cares if there is no method to this madness?
Rocking alone in the dark, mumbling words unheard,
I can't get over this mind's melody.
Over and over, flip that record another time.
Slow it down and speed it up just to inflect,
Inserting yourself in the work of others.
There isn't hidden meaning, no stickers stuck.
Unconventionality doesn't call for a burning.
Nothing wicked, nothing explicit,
Still illicit.
This freezing spring rain rapping on the window
Reminds me of all the times I've been warm,
Ignoring the bite of the breeze with my cheeks lifted high.
This is the stuff that keeps you going in all weather;
Fuel for the fire in my belly. You know it's stoked,
You can tell by the smoke pouring from my throat
So keep the bellows blowing, quell the the cold's
Strong fist knocking on your smile's pearly doors.
Kill it with kindness and smile.

Monday, March 14, 2011

Someone May Have Figured Something Out

Baby, I'm not a religious man,
But I'm giving you up.
At least for awhile, while
The season's right.
It may be wrong to do
But, it's what we need.
Want aside, try to pretend
It never happened. God,
It'll be rough to desert
Such a friend, it's hard,
We all know that.
So maybe, we can find
Salvation before our hell.

Friday, March 11, 2011

The Bull and Lion raised up together as young pups
Under the searing, summer sun.
Days spent dashing, activity bonded the brood.
Combined, their strength was unmatchable.
The Bull: headstrong, and the Lion: proud;
Quite the pair!
Oh Lion, quick to defend his pride.
Oh Bull, quick to standoff, seeing red.
When those warm rays shone down
Temperaments heated, raising manes and honing horn;.
Fraternal clashes always followed.
But, in brotherhood, forgiveness is found
Remembering the worth of kin.