Let's Get You Naked

We are alive, a little 
Still got a lifeline left 
Who do you wanna be now? 
I just wanna be myself 
Who do you wanna be with? 
I just want to be with you 

But we got something between us
I got an idea, a suggestion if you will 

Let's get you...naked 
We'll see what we'll see, we'll do what we do
Let's get you...naked 
And I hope you don't mind if I join you?

I've known you forever and ever
I know you like I know my own hand
But I'd like to know you better
And then better and better again 

'Cause we got some room to wiggle
The time has finally come, to come clean
'Cause we've been lying a little 
Let's expose the truth if you know! 
What I mean 

Let's get you...naked 
We'll see what we'll see, we'll do what we do
Let's get you...naked 
And I hope you don't mind if I join you?
Let's get you...naked 
Sounds like a plan to me 
Let's get you...naked 
And I'll even go first if you want me

Still got a lifeline left

Just wanna be myself

Who do you want to be with? 
I just want to be with you 

Sometimes a few missing pieces
Completes the completeness 
I want nothing between us, two

Let's get you...
...naked. 

Let's get you...
...naked. 

Sounds like a plan to me! 
Let's get you...naked, 
and I'll even go first 
if you want me  

catlike pounce

I catlike pounce on what you give 
it's only cause 
we've got to live 

I doglike big beg eyes explain
and rationalize 

in big dog words 

why I am
sometimes 
such
a pain
woof woof 
my eyes
say 

bark whine sane 

finding need's purposes

It's not about need it's
Want. Want is about 
Lack. 

We lack purpose or 
Function. Another 
One or some 
Thing could

provide 
what's wanted 
so much we felt 

need

"Saskia (Out There)"

You get a little bit out of hand
(sometimes)
But you're the one who reels me back in
(and I'm fine)
And even picturing when you cry
(so sad)
It makes me want to just hit some guy
I'm that mad, and sometimes

I feel I'm in too deeply
I tell myself I'm not but I don't believe me

Saskia!
You're the only one out there, baby
Saskia!
Don't you think you should come in maybe, hey?

Come in! I love seeing
You shine. You make me think in
Clichés. With your hand…
in mine

And there's a whole world of difference,
between we.
But it don't make any difference
Not to me
That's not to say it's not meaning full
enough
It's just it's not any obstacle
Not to us, and when I

Picture my world without you
There's nothing in the frame, not of any value

Saskia!
You're the only one out there, baby
Saskia!
Don't you think you could come in, maybe?
Saskia!
Who could ever think evil of you?
Saskia!
The sun's breaking through all the clouds above you

Hey
I love how you measure
Your strength
Not by force of
Your shove
But by choice of
restraint

You get a little bit out of hand
(it's true)
But you're the one who pulls me back in,
to you and sometimes
I get a little bit broken up

And you're left sweeping my pieces up

And if I
just want to protect you too fiercely
It's only 'cause I love you so completely

Saskia!
You're the only one out there baby
Saskia!
Don't you think you should come in, maybe?
Saskia!
You are the only light I can see
Saskia!
Don't you go disappearing on me

indulgences

I overindulge in you.
I want the future and
the past we want, but 

I cannot have either
with you now. It works
for now because I think 

You don't indulge me 
one bit. We drink  

the air where we are,
and breathe the light

where we each are
now without

a fight. 

"So, Saskia"

SHE:

Well, you ask who's this lass
with the ear-splitting laugh
and a mouth like a sailor's behind?

Who comes off so professional,
first rate first class
in manner, appearance and mind?

With a certain how do you say je ne sais quoi
in French or Italian or Dutch?
Whose words and whose ways never fail to translate
Well, how can you ask who?
Is it not obvious?

How could I be any more Saskia?
I ask a-ya?
It's im-poss-kia!
How could I be any more Saskia?
It's pre-posterah -
'cause I'm Saskia!

Any social milieu
I'll come waltzing right through
my onlookers can't fail to gush

If I slip, I will fall
with impeccable poise
and rise all the more glamorous

Well my friends know me well
and they'll all tell you so
and plenty of stories besides

But why take second-hand
when first-hand's walking by
What more could you question?
Do you doubt your eyes?

ALL TOGETHER:

How could she be any more Saskia?
We ask a ya? It's im-poss-kia!
How could she be any more Saskia?
It's pre-posterah!
She's so Saskia!

SHE:

How could I be any more Saskia?
I ask a-ya?
It's im-poss-kia!
How could I be any more Saskia?
It's pre-posterah
I'm so Saskia

It's a science and art
to come off so 'just so'
It's a calling and hobby of mine
So if I'm a bit late
No point checking your watch
I'll be there!...

(ALL: She'll be there!)

...on Saskia Time!

How could I be any more Saskia?
I ask a-ya?
It's im-poss-kia!
How could I be any more Saskia?
It's pre-posterah
'cause I'm Saskia!

"Ceremonial"

here we are
and we're ready
to begin the act, the stage

is set. There's no hurry,
and no turning back, you know

your role - but you tremble
'cause it means so much to you,
to make it great

make every gesture captivate

it's ceremonial
like a rain cloud
ceremonial,
like a wolf's howl
ceremonial
like a slow dance
you can breathe it in, like incense
ceremonial
like a moonbeam
ceremonial
like a love scene
ceremonial
like a vivid dream
it could mean anything

fake. rehearsed. artificial - such is life, but
it means everything you put into

on performance night, you catch
your breath, and leap outward

- it's a leap of faith
you trust yourself to make
your instinct says it's no mistake

it's ceremonial
like a rain cloud
ceremonial,
like a wolf's howl
ceremonial
like a slow dance
you can sink in it, like quicksand
ceremonial
like a moonbeam
ceremonial
like a love scene
ceremonial
like a vivid dream
it doesn't mean anything

when the curtain falls, and darkness draws around
you
to a crash of applause - you left the audience
all dumbfounded
and your curtain calls, could have gone on and on,
for hours and hours
but you steal away

with red hearts bunched in tight bouquet

lose the wardrobe, and make up
going natural, you step, with command
- into spotlight

without self-control, you know
what's next isn't scripted, but
you have the words by heart

by heart

the house lights fading into dark

it's ceremonial
like a rain cloud
ceremonial,
like a wolf's howl
ceremonial
like a slow dance
you can breathe it in, like incense
ceremonial
like a moonbeam
ceremonial
like a love scene
ceremonial
like a vivid dream
and it means everything

Just The Worst

Listen: you're just the worst 
I met in my life. You made me 
your man. I made you his wife, 
'cause I never quite can come up  
second, you see.

You're just the worst 'cause
you're tied with me. 

When you're tied for first 
there is no number two. 
That's so much the magic 
we each saw in you. It struck
up the magic we each found
in us.

It was how you and I each
needed to be. Tied for first
growing worst so fast

you can't trust 

You're just the worst I met 
in my time. I made you my 
woman and you made you 
mine, every step every aim 
destroying what's ours: vows, 
rings, homes and houses in 
hotel bars. 

I'm just the worst, now you 
knew it was so. Time to break 
down all the news and go. 

We're just the worst, 'cause  
we tried to be. We were tied 
for first best, now
we'll never 
be free. 

Damn people with vigilante streaks

Damn
people with vigilante streaks
are the real problem with humanity
as it stands aloof, grinning with

"perfect quip" 

to cap off a one-man/one-woman
personal vengeance jag, all 
to avenge wronged 
things, 

Right?

Guess.
Superman
and Green Hulk are
comparatively healthy!
Fantasies outright, compared
to all the paramilitary identikit
punks of any and all capes, creeds,
crusades and no core at all, think they're

like
Batman.
Or some dark soldier
thing going on. Got no code
that works for them yet, of course
so: keep it hid online, scathing people
who aren't there! Feigning love
as bad as hate:

all to pose
peak human
with a masterplan

of course

one bad one:
off-course.

humanity

has always
to do without crusaders.
Eventually: masks rot, helmets
crack, capes catch you up in a knot

of sheets 

streaked before all 
who discover your 
gall, bile, blood and 
shit

and all

. end 
like an
animal

in a self
made cage, 
a 

cave

that began up your own, 
ass. What a whole 
load

of human
waste 

such people seek 
and seek to become
eventually that streak 

needs over.
 
done

Startful Stop.

My inner system's all flushed up
and out, and her I stand
surprised.

She's cool, full-stop
and I could give a fuck
for all her daring whys. I stand

or lay here wondering why not?
Or: was she calling mine? My
bluff, my hopes,
my all-for-once:

Her dragonback is drawn
in leaves and twisty roots: no
coffee, please

and no I had
no deft designs
on her, but
simply start and ease.

We let each chart our course:
Slow dance apart at each one's
pace: no recompense. For if love
works

and must be war, I'll bow
my head to glance its blade
with my stiff neck.

Forever
gaze, then lop it off.
Her voice is dulcet
blooms:

no chore.

She
calculates night hard,
but
soft. So musical, this
vunderkind

it could
go

better
undesigned
and
unaloft

That Catcall?

So
Catcall her,
when she knows who you are,
and has given you let, without
hindrance or leave so fat! So
far, so good to say ("by her
leave"), say:

"Let me holler atcha, woman
who I call 'girl' all night,
all day, always."  

Worder, Please
do do call her just!
That girl, because you
know she (in trust!) 

has given you the breeze
easy-true, as a moment-held
truce that stays, and it says:

this woman
wants "girl"
from you. This

man
got
to honor
her so. So true.
That's a selves-held
plan. Girl! Honor her word!

If she doesn't knock you back
that time. She's preferred, you 
in just such a way: gendersexually!
In those selfsame ways she has given

To be.
Make do
and go screw, if
you cannot hold that

She/Them/Her has always
been free, up at bat in such
sticky-pitch woo and counter
attach. And so equal

with you. Would you take it 
all back, give inferior being? 

Man, you know that noise
holds strong signal within:

Call it "equipoise."

When you-know-by-who

that 
that ain't no

sin.

...against she, her, 
you, me, and let 
alone

Him. 
Let your
declaration "Let me!" 
holler out hung in parentheses,

question mark bells
long since wrung, 

But.

Be open yourself,
to every fact where you're
wrong. Let the offer of hurt
itself prove

So strong

don't 

make her
have to prove 
between you, 

daughter-son

If she ever called you 
"daddy," that's 

no issues
of hers,
you've
just

won
one

round
don't 
forget you're no cat, 
no dog, no not even 
an ape

called that. 

At some point, you end

At some point you end
on the opposite side of
wherever you’ve placed

your self
divide

I Feel Like I Do Right Now

"I feel like I do right now," 

You said. To the question:
could you ever want me?
More than him, instead?

Like some hymn revealed,
how you could never harm
in golden ruled miles trod
by skin and charm, streaming
balls in play, jounced round
by our wiles?

What a joint and a mutual affair
stood forth! Frothing rampant
as all, on all sides concoursed! 
In the white, angel spew of
our oars, so to speak,

how we rowed our backs
so lost in the peek. 

In the glimpse by 
two eyes, and the mind's
behind. In the afterglows
too soon to come, such
tomes by such pout
of yours! And smiles 
of ours. All mine 
for forever and days 
by says combined

...and imbibed! 

Such gasping grunts!
Such grasping hands 
seized here and now,
on hunts! Such immaculate
size, where Gojira holds
forth: Japan sighs, so wise.

It was all groan too long
in the smooth, curly shorts.

In our minds it was all.

Balled-up like twine, like 
bread with the wine we'd
swilled so fine, wished,
swished round
in our round
mouths

to pass: each
to each, twinned lips
through teeth 'til at least,
at last, we soured, and 
exploded release! 

One
of us,
anyhow:
let you 
please,
please, oh-or you

always do? Always did?
And did I? Was it fine, by
each? Someone came now
high in gushers down south
by and by, no tricks: and so
through downy Southland pass,
some fix.

Let us raise our vessels
and click: to peace!

In a secret, safe place.

Some sculpture of ease:
thine, tucked in all-hallowed
garden nestled and slick as time.

Where myth stands erased 
to replace for good: truth 
with beauty unscored. 

So pure! So wait-what, whoops! 

HEY! WRONG WAY you

ass

Oh shit. Whoooops, I
done fucked up at last
there, for goodness 
or sake.

It was sure 
a bad slip
for me 
ever to take. 

Forgive. Blame
culture? OK.

Pity, shame. 

On us? No, me,
mine all of this fault:

blown dust, if you
once could forgive
bad aim. But

(and it's a fine, fair 
and rounded but, you
've) If/Than Only  

to touch! Your nose 
or ear by some special 
signed tell for the good
to appear! But
If 
And...
You Know? 

I would never want
to.

It's unnatural
to me to so 

conquer

just

you

to the wisdom of youth

To the strength of youth
or the wisdom of age, 
there's no end! 

'Til they both
swap places
pretend

Bad Aim

To be the starfish, oh
no: be the hand

sailed us way far away
out over the waves

to land

On All Sides

It's a game: so it's
called "All Sides"
or "Hedge
Bet Fund" laid
out with charms,
wiles, and trust in

one
very wrong
friend. So: two teams
now! Every field.
All leagued. Need
tips? Here's how:

Offense! & D!:
Fence? Fraud? 
Don't slip,
since

Both have
won games.

Won championships
only rain downy fire
and smoke on the broad, fat plain 
decent fans, holding hard pulled tight
hope hands caught throats

in
their beds
can't  

sleep
for the chokes.

DAMN ALL 
of the damned
wild beast straight
stats fact-run rules
now!

Sign your lease.

Get plastered
and panned. 
Let us each 
allow: this time

it's for us.

Once gone
so real. So 
now. Know how? 

Got it set?
In minds? 
System? Break! 

Score! Feel!

What a really weird deal.
Oh if only the payoff weren't
so danged fake. Oh if only we'd
placed our own bets, what a steal!

We'd have held
what we'd get.

Free money for wheels, with
nothing going on but the rent,
balanced well

by what you can't spend now, ever
reckon on wet, dry, try, tie wins
losses sort, advise
or
sell:  

just
yet,
but soft:
not yet.  

Too sweet?
Oh, oh no what the hell,
please. Beat! What did you
just tweet?

Get out! Get bent! We've been
living too well, it seems. It's
all spent. So long. Wave bye!
No sale! You can go straight 
to hail in your empty sack 
storm. Oh come in now, 
honey. Wait. Let us hold.
Be here, now: 

warm. 

Plunk your
money and mine
from our mouths, once
more.  

'Cause with any strong cause,
town, leagued with bright swords,
sad towels dripping strong effects,
laced sweat, blood, bile, balls, teeth
clenched up to forget, miss hard!

At once past! At the post, pass missed!
All to get released?

You bum! Don't miss! Or else
Go, now! Go! Be deceased to us!

These, 
THIS
we can't ever forgive, quite.

Trust. Can't quite manage, expect!
Coach, minister all by mind, heart,
soul, spirit forged in one ball.  

Hey. Take a slipped note:
bad bet. 

That's us all
all the men women
thronged people, tossing
their face, form and joint? 
For the sex, money glory on-point
on a sea seized wide, by that giant ass
screen play that can't be erased? Go!

Set! Bet! Stake! 
It all comes down in this: disgrace
or that hard, beautiful 

grace,
dignity 

like a cat.
Nine lives simply can't all be wrong.
Cannot miss:placed on one dumb race. 

Blest luck with a kiss, and one wild ass
fuck lass, lad: scratched, hissed. So...

shall not be never! 
All we here, hear! 
Drowning in bliss, 
ignorance: what a crux.
What innocence gist. 

We shall not quite
be "never," yet
forever
replaced,

nor missed.

Now pay out.
It's our round.
 
Get pissed

Forgive? Yes oh no

Yes.

Oh. Yes, but no
hold up. 'Cause
I'll tell you why

and then:

a woman

in cultural terms
her whole life
generally gets pounded
while wasting her time
on the wrong damn man
it turns out

she can't drive

him from

mind

except

the man—is he true? in
his turn and terms wants
more
and he
has to be worth,

yet

burns yet another big score!
for her! Who? True? Oh no

it takes
the one
he's with, now
screw the past
to the future post

undo

undo

to believe

it's

her

even once,
now you and I
could be "the
one" let alone

you.

When
neither can trust?
in themselves? let
alone

oh,
no

heart
shake
ice break
to bone
pour two
drinks

now
for oneself
and thou.

In slow
short glass
bound to break
here we go! Add

spirit
heat
stir

in stir
in gaol now
marking out time
from a boy to this

girl

that's a "Heterosexual
Monogamy Joint!" see
it
purple and swole
green, iced clear and
glassed

on-point.

To your eyes!
To your face, crazy
culture makes us
such

weird names.

DRINK!

It's a drinking game,
lust

plus invincible trust
when you've finally had
another that can make
you forget

when she's never any time
in the world left yet

and he can't bet stake get
more

than this one

when it's all that she needs
and
it's everything he wants
gone

bust

once
more.

raise a glass encore?

Yes. Watch this trick
I will pour you a

"Forgive Yourself Sore” or
Forgive Yourself Score.

Depends. Do you want
an onion or a cherry in
this

drink?
Sure 

full on arts dissertation's disclothes

I stood up revealed
in college once
to explain to the prof
just what he wants:

nudity! In film: the
original optimal 
special effect 

to pack them in
carts, blankets
wrapped correct 
in propriety, suffocating
tight to get out past the
posted guards in mind,
quick heart off the road
bumping down, through
all the way home 

out quick comes the staff,
critiqued to the bone:
for unrealistic turns 
of a shopworn 
plot. 

with no
audience 
all high on pot,
macking snacks,
stealing kiss between
snooze and yawn 
sneaking in booze 
shouting boos 'til 
dawn: oh,

it's no 
fun 
it's all done
in-camera 
now 

so 
long

boom the gong wring
the curtain off: 

POW

like you didn't expect 
that bared eye show? 
Come on. Where's the 
car, babe 

we gots
to go

Ukklandia Ho

Your flag is bolder
and prettier than
ours. Ours

is artistically
and symbolically an
eyesore! Deliberately!

Hoisted all awful
in battle for strong
stomachs and spines
tight in the balls! For woman
was at home, defended like

some fortress sewing
that damn thing like general
Betsy Ross: the American
Bestie, flagwise.

Yet I love it. True. A graphic
error terror on a bold hard
pole, left out in the storm
to flap breeze, and so keep
us cockled-up and warm

through ice-locked daze,
wondering: could I? No way.

Too tough, those revolutionary
twerps, casting off so way better
a flag objectively...yet? Thought

of the day du jour.
Means Jack Nil
in context. Also:

it's NOT bolder and prettier BECAUSE:

Def Leppard is better than Queen!

Def Leppard simply IS better than
Queen. Appalling. No way Def
Leppard should be better than
Queen. They wanted to BE Queen,
the Def Leppard way! Everybody

MUST SING LIVE. Yet
in doing so, partly
because the drummer
got an arm off and shit, they
just kept going, Def Leppard

outlasted Queen to become
THE WORLD'S DEF LEPPARD
FOR THE QUEEN! Hm.

Since Elizabeth too has passed
her mantle on to Chuck Winsor
or Windsor or whatever, maybe

it's time

to reevaluate this whole "Queen
stank, because Def Leppard rules"
theory, which the whole world
upholds ME wildly in online, seemingly.

What IF
online itself is
SOMEHOW! SELFSAME

WRONG?

Ouch.
If so though,
that capering, rampant flag
you UKklandiars have is simply
best

in the world
white and royal
naval darkest blue
and blood all over
it in stripes red

of a bold interlocking
of vertically hexed diagonal
crosses. You, Yes, you!

Could teach a three-part art
and history class on that Shit!

And The Lep!!

Would barely be half the semester in it.
A huge FOOT NOTE in the game like
Sherlock Holmes, boy! obviously

though the Pet Shop Boys leave both teams
in the dirk, I mean the dirt. With their dicks
in the dirt too scrambling to score some

ancient soccer match
called fooooot bul
shit
sport, but true

the fans have some flaggy
outfits

on

it

...

go dallas

father's cowfeathers

So the issue is.
The topic isn't
both-ways germane, so
why not work it out between
collective heart-brain?

It's cause.
Cause doesn't
operate sentimental
shove.

You had
to be
there first
with me,
to get into it,

"applesnake"

to get into it,

"serpent-dove"

to get into it us,
with we:

a trust
that had

to be
between
before we,
you and me

could
mean,
love

keeps happening when

It keeps happening where 
everyone in the world
(one suddenly discovers)
knew "it"
all along 

and It's always
different and it's
always right. So obvious now
that you should have known, but

!! 
??

Why didn't any one tell us this?
Why must it go by blindside miss? 
'Til at last it all fits this missing piece
we digest and sort out, adjust up our
aims 
          then the next level gets 
revealed in 

sane. 

It keeps
happening every what
when where plain get
way out in front, no!
don't

stay
in
your
lane

"Worst Surfers" (proposed Vedder/Stipe collaboration)

Surf the worst / between us what
hell, are you doing? not our business, but
The worst! ohhhhhhhh between us
Your breath is making us drown
Your breath is making us drown

Listen you bald ass clown my lord
Quit flailing our limbs, now going in
Time to stop shredding our vocal chord
All I can do is close eyes and sway
That's not going to save us out here, no
Not any day, with the stars crashing in in music box souls
with weird beard chin just loose your board and,
lose that bored expression, man we both just scored! Uh

Surf the worst
Between us
What the hell you doing out here?
Your business? Worst oh worst
Between two men
If any show up let's
Pretend we're them
I'll howl deep
If you whine hard
Push in pull beside me
with all regard

It's a posted beach
no rescue now
what's this warm tide oh
between us somehow too oh
man

smells

Oh uhhhh man!
Smeeeelllleee-ells

Like salt spray and hot old
college rock dells

Did you do that?

(no guitar solo)

below rock bottom

Fantasy's the thing
we'd never want, because
we can't lack that. 

Anytime in our safe 
space: one mind, no
breaks, no taking back.

It's why it
titillates

us
so,
so
long
we've
had to grow
and know what's hard,
real, right: here right. Then,
Now. We people just become
much more oneself. We go,
unbreaking bow.

It's only death 
of self or soul. 
It's nothing hard.
We rise above who
can't control and what
we fantasize about

is just our fascination with
our best, worst, blest thing 
we don't want:
an empty mouth.

Sad eyes
Your pout 

No vows,
now no. No
promise binds
on future self.

No word for what's so wrong
but "no." 

It's only what we don't allow.
Because we'd never really want 
to groom one's self into brute
beast out hollering
to be

deceased 

Go, horses
groom each
other wild.

Bride and bridle,
friends made hot
to fuss and care
each other's ways. 

It's always someone 
else's party, now! Today!
And that's okay 'cause
ours won't end
until betrayed

by our last friend. 
Until that day
so bright we blink
in sublime pains we shouldn't take,
painstakingly we part, we stake.
We welcome wants we hate to think

We feel we couldn't be so wrong.
And so we're not. 

Though dreamed so long, 
we do wake up. So, 

so long dream.

We couldn't 
really 
want to be 
that thing. 

Below rock bottom we become
what we know we can't
live with
sun

adding down

for up to eight hours
of powerful relief
sleep

waking up
in a dream so weird 
so real you can't tell 
the name for it 
is generic 

for known effects sudden
uncontrollable movements
which may be permanent

lowered ABC 
ZYX off the charts take 
two

doctors and 
ask them both about
how to fall in 
love not with
you

oh no no no no you're
in the other business 
end. Nope! Sorry  

ask them
each

independently! about
some
health
and behavioral 
benefit to fall 

in love 
with this other great 
doctor, you know 

nobody asked you

no takebacks

She sits okay 
in moments played 
upon the bases 
she has made 

Down south on Earth
where life don't hurt 
too much I know

she never flirts 
no, nor do I except 
with death and life 
by every beat and breath,

but 
it can't
count as flirt 
you know 

you'd give it all 
for one less 
throw

switchbait

six dogs trapped in a car
in distress bear is driving
how can that be the dogs
eyes white and round 
no visible pupils 

to the teacher the moral
of this scene: blank

their eyes 
seen 

white

equals
round 

help for hours! now
their dog beg eyes 
all round

the careening speed trap

police nowhere 
responding to calls why
why 

the dogs' eyes! so
whine like sirens
giving bad yelp
review to cops 
sleeping in stolen
vehicles staging
their hidden stings 
viciously no help 

dogs are trapped, eyes

signal horror help
trapped in the car
the dog eye signals
horror help! to man

hero of the piece he 

swoops down like vendetta itself crashes
his convenient machine: a courage device
of his own, and barely invincible 

knowing his own death many times 
(a fantasist an emotional verbal self-abusism 
pro: paid for this!) "damn my day off" he

leaps from it compassionately
this exploding wreck 

of a man sensing

the dogs
sensing
distress bear
-ing up down tight now 

as best 
we can 

under car conditions he 
ripped the door from its only hinge
using jaws of his own life at a speed
approximating terror
terror

terror kilometers in an empathy second 
which

is much shorter than any 

human second the dogs

waited loyally eight years
to be rescued from their car slash
trap slash home but the bear 
evilly 

was lost on the road 
until the man 
sensing heroism in

the bear ate him

unrealistic candles

Unrealistic
candles
worth
no game
because 
gratuitous.

Shaped
wax sex
and nudity, 
to burn in

scents 
that smell
like us

Available blood,
red, phlegm,
green or semen
white, or bile 
black no shit
brown tone or
yellow, no.

You see we
bought those up
as jokes, and sent 
them back. Too 
vulgar. Gross

What gift was this? 
For whose surprise? 
A light so wavered, 
fainting bright in
falling size, in 
melting sighs.
 
Who flesh and blood 
in spirit breathes
by life burnt-in
enough to grieve, 
when it leaves
human being holes
shaped perfectly

Shot through your heart

just
missed
your soul.  

Too much
to buy? Steal?
Take? Make?
Grow?

light only one

or rows,
on rows

let's stand
revealed in
deepest clothes
of sunset rose
on sunrise hay,
or strip and beat 
our naked skins,
'til punishment 
seems just.

okay
to us. 

Look.
It's much
to see. Too much 
to seek alone, 
what two can't 
find or be. But

I won't mind 
if you don't care
for me. Forgive us
please. We've had
to flee.

So keep it well
within, and kind.
Slept rough, wept openly!
Leap out and cheer, since
now it's true! 

We've only death
too far to mourn, as life
grows piece by missing parts
of you: so near, and much
too much, too dear to
fear bad luck and fate. 

Not here. This little candle's spent
a crumpled, drowning wick.
We've come too late. So 
make and mark our time 
with summer's iced intent.
Beyond no end is serious. 

It had to be in each of us.

This was no game
to form them up!
So let them shine
in token trust. 

In flame, we'll burn 
by light we loved, oh! 
Too much

once

Other ways

Violence doesn't work because someone's killing you
Property won't work, because you can't get it, can you? 
What you get can't work, because we don't know how to keep
Waking up don't work. At least you have some place to sleep

We need other ways to make life good
Not now
Just things
We wish 
We could 
find other ways to make life good

Happiness won't work because it's made of missing parts
Global peace would work. But how could anybody start? 
Love and trust would work, except we always fail or run.
Waiting peace and calm is way too much to ask someone.

We need other ways to make life good
Not now
Just things
We wish 
We could 
find other ways to make life good

Greater good don't work, because the greater good ain't us.
Lives of service work, except you're ripped off on the bus. 
Beauty works for now, but was it ever any good? 
Innocence somehow got lost in could and should and would. 

We need other ways to make life good
Not now
Just things
We wish 
We could 
find other ways to make life good

every fucking day

My ten-year plan is to still be alive or die
as well as I can. Seek no risk but what I find
Keep coming back, creating for you safe space
Whoever you are, I'll never get in your face

every fucking day
every fucking day
every fucking day
every fucking day

Whatever I give, you don't need to take from me
as long as I live, I want you to be so free
I can't be your friend, without indivisible trust
We could always just end, or come back knock off the rust

every fucking day
every fucking day
every fucking day
every fucking day

My five year plan is to pull back and make my mark
Wherever you stand, I'm out shining in the dark
With all that you gave, still grounding and centering me
I want to behave the way you wished I could be

And if there isn't a pony ride
And if there isn't a castle keep
And if there aren't any rainbows left
we should not be ashamed to weep

every fucking day
every fucking day
every fucking day
every fucking day

Revenge is a ghost that haunts us in the world's eyes

I need you the most, but I couldn't live with lies
The truth is the best, we ever could get used to
I'm always impressed with everything we could do

every fucking day
every fucking day
every fucking day
every fucking day

My one year plan is to still be alive or die
as well as I can. I never could just
stand by

I Will Be Past.

I will be past
The Raven's mark: 
made vain upon the writing 
desk where once tasked Poe,
where croaked Poe then, by muse
bird-struck and pinion-pen, on wavy
pane of window grime. Cleaned
once too soon, then let 

too slow to shine

on rhyme: 

"Forevermore." 

Was never,
once. 

No.

That was then. 
It's what one wants:
the other

wonts.

The one who can't shut out.

You're the one who
won't shut up, and
'You're The One Who
Don't Shut Up,' and? 

Don't engage.
So? Lution
solved.
Mutation
scored upon
resolve in brightline
burnt past heal or scar. 

Trauma is life.
We've come so far
we might have balls:
admit to strife, but

I can't be the harm 
once caused, if every 
time it's mine by laws. 

You've got to learn
the difference, once:

some one must cut
some other twice:
three times for luck, but?
Last cut counts for well and good.

In great amounts. So-so?
So now? It's I who'll be
so ever-present in the lee
of such a stone left so 
unturned. 

I will survive the other's 
heart to see. Not soft,
not 
hard. 

If that's the case? 
Then be it thus. 
There's no must 
needs nor time
at all, to need
to waste 
between 
us two.

We 
need not be, 
at all, since you.

Since only harm 
can come to future 
you and yours? 

Strike won. 
You've scored; 
all game is yours. 

I've got the gate.
It's as you say.
We couldn't wait.

I will be past

The Raven's mark: 
made vain upon
the writing desk
where once tasked Poe

where once croaked 
Poe, by pinion-pen
on wavy window,
cleaned too soon
so grimed too slow: 

"Forevermore" 

was never, once. 

No. That was
then. 

It's what one 
wants:

the other
wonts. 

the caped police

the caped police in uniforms 
all different, personalized 
and warm 

so bulletproof and hard 
they are 

as they invite us in: 

your public house
now! Pass
the bar 

this beatdown we 
all deal sound thunk
and skin bone break
we voted up 

so present now: 
a gift to you 
all couchbound critics
coming due shall 
hail! Hail! Hail! 

Since they don't want 
to fall in pools 
or alley stunt  

to be upheld
by forumed forms
in shadow caps,
star-chambered wells
so won and worn 
to meet their fates 
so far

from 
gaol's
private 
disgrace

“All critical forms and expressions lead back to Hot Dog On A Stick for sure”

A work in progress
for sure. Part of it the problem is

it.

Plainly falls into the pattern
of modern doggerel: the “lyric
poem.” Suitable for LYRES, LIARS
and practically little else! Bald
of intent and natural fires burnt
all smooth. No clothes! The ribald
brigand troubadour is trouble!
And far from troubadorable. One
should
be

belted out of the room! for these puns,
some of them! And yet…and yet
the emotion’s run
true through all your
life. Or mine, it has.

A finished work
at this point, yet: every finished
work is only the latest snapshot

of a progress in-process. Workshoppers? Fellow
poets? CRITICS ESPECIALLY! I love critique, and
don’t spare the pounding-pole in the huge butter
bucket where the worst lemonade in the world
(in terms of sane health regards, arguably) is forged
pure and plenty by…wow. Teenagers

in

really cool costumes! Red and white and yellow
and blue. AND THOSE HATS. You could stop
traffic and write parking tickets in

a hat like that

Now
I want some
sort of

sticky meat item

why

"Lemon Lime"

Life's been one bitter peel.
Spittin' out pith and rind,
no fruit left to find 
My throat's been so parched for juice 
Not a drop to be found 
I'm drying up inside and out

And you've lived it same as me:
Shriveling where you should bloom
You can't quench the drought in you 
But where these two parched souls meet

Suddenly it rises sweet inside of you and baby we are 

Livin' life 
Lemon lime
Livin' like 
Lemon lime 
You and me so refreshing
Livin' life 
Lemon lime
Livin' like 
Lemon lime
Teach each other's tongues a lesson

Baby we are 
Ooh. Ooo, ooh-oo
we don't know 
what we are, where we're going
baby we don't even know 

Where this juice comes from 
So shocking sour and flower sweet
Where acid tongue and sugar meet 
Our love's just a fruitful one 
A bumper crop from laden tree! 
I'm squeezin' you 'cause you picked me

We're livin' life
Lemon lime
Livin' like 
Lemon lime 
You and me so refreshing
Baby we are livin' life 
lemon lime
Livin' like! 
Lemon lime
Teach each other's tongues a lesson 

Baby we are 
We don't know what we are
but baby,

We are washed out 
in bubbles now. 
Tickle tongue 
Tickle nose 
To my head it goes and goes, 
but where did this flood come from? 
When you and me were desert climes, 
but where we meet the river rise 
And orchards spring from rock soil

We bend our backs but never toil...

Lemon lime! Lemon Lime! 
Tongues in tart sweet potent line 
and arcs galore, aplenty fine 
spirits level, spare the wine 

We don't know what we are, 
where we're going baby 
we don't even know

5 poems cheap

Language is just. 
A trick no-trick:
to lead from yourself
in each moment so fit!
That no one would ever believe
it of you.Yet they have to admit 
the advantage.

True.
Since at
every each pause
you have played no game.
How you gave yourself up
by ulterior aim laid pure
every time, and plain in view.
Quite before you could know!
How could this be true? Can
you get free and clear, clean, 
fine, so-so? Every time
no one ever would buy
something never once
sold, oh no. 

In each consequence 
every moment unbound
frees you up by ungodly extents 
to a mindful and thoughtless 
effortless, valid, sound bent,
by a character arc biased hard 
in known points: aiming
right straight through as
a matter off-course in a
wave-function particle 
line-cut you. 

You might think no one could 
believe in you, but why would
you want two doing something
so dumb? You're the one freed 
up. Let it be so, mote. Do not 
want, lack, need their belief 
in you.

'Cause eventually... 
sans manipulate, no no influence
mate! They've
no
option
but 
two. 

"The Path Of Sin"

He comes over and opens your heart,

lays you low

You can never believe in the art.

It's just for show

A big part of you telling yourself, please

say no.

The little part of you getting its way: 

red means go, and

The path of sin

leads you back again.

The path of sin,

leads you back to him

You won't find it in anyone's book

They won't explain

You've been trying to write it all down

Make it plain.

You don't know what the meaning is for,

still, it's there.

You don't want to belittle yourself, but

you don't care

When the path of sin

leads you back again

The path of sin

leads you back to him

Now it's time to give up your self

No you never believed in hell,

but you know what you need to hear, 

and what you won't listen to

You grew up with a conscience of steel,

and you can't fight

But there's no way you'll be letting yourself

down, no! Not tonight

It's as simple as what you allow. 

Nothing more.

You need something to take

what you feel and make

it 

pure, 

When the path of sin

leads you back again

The path of sin

leads you back to him

Now it's time to give up your self, no

you never believed in hell, but

you know what you need to hear,

and who you won't listen to.

"Kick It Any"

We don't have to go no place special
You don't need to get all dolled up, yo
I'm cool with wherever we end up, so
Where do you wanna go? 

We can kick it any
way you want
We can kick it any
where you want
We can kick it any 
day you want
Long as you're kickin' with me
Only

Let's stand in line for two whole hours
And then say sike when they try to let us in
Walk off laughing 'bout something else
That we could never explain to them

And anything we ever try to do 
It doesn't matter if it works or all falls through 
No master plan could hold a candle to
Hanging out 
Kickin' with you 

Anyway you want! Aw, we can kick it 
Anywhere you want!  Aw, we can kick it 
Anyday you want! Long as you kick it
With me!
ONNNNLYYY 

So draw plan A to the nth degree
And we can carry it right straight through to Z
But we've got some kind of sweet plan B
Contingency: you and me, baby we can kick it! 

Any way you want. Oh, we can kick it 
Any where you want. Oh, we can kick it
Any day you want. Long as you kick it 
With me! 

ONLY any way you want! Aw, we can kick it 
Any where you want. ONLY can kick it 
Any day you want? 

Long as you kick it with me.
ONNNNNNN 
LEEEEEEEE

I tasted the candles

I tasted the candles 
when I was already far 
too old for such mouthy
works & experiments: ten 
twelve,
definitely not eleven but

probably four. I would 
seriously 
bite anything red 
that could take a tooth, but see 
SEE? 

I already knew science. 
The word. I knew what 
it was and it has never 
altered from that: one
observation, 

lifelong
and a test
to disprove 
in deliberate
aimed intent
every thing you found 

to believe about how 

a human being 
could be

brutally 
reduced
to a light
,

Old Testament

See. SEE? Testament renews
itself 
in 

witness far,
too rude 
for shelf. 

Yet Solomon 
had Wisdom, 
once. 

I want her name
canonically to rocket 
off the hallowed rooves,
to abjectly and utterly 

move the rest
in us: Destroy 
All 
Cunts. 

Just British, though!
For we know best, on
Earth

that word
means no contest.

On grounds more basic
than we know, on
Earth that word
mans holies, 

Yo. 

So, 
rest. 

"no body likes it rough"

 No body
likes it rough
cells bruised and 
pierced right through 
but I hope you do not 
regret in a penitential 
way telling me what
you do. No 

body 

likes

it 

rough, but
it sure can be rough 
at sea, and sometimes 
one woman might love 
one man to be 

to her 

far wilder than seas 

might 
be

That's never gonna be me, 
though
man.

TOUGH.

I don't mind it wild,
no, 
'cause

I am.

Truth is?
Straight shot,
no hope, no 
body
ever liked
"it" rough

from  me

I hope
.

cadastral map

The aether's 
yours, my aura too 
from your half spine 
to mine: adieu

Impromtitude

Microphone take, no drop just yet

TIME to origin ATE CREE-ATE, BET?
I WANT MY TWO DOLLARS don’t
holler your spores, you got slick
scoot mucous and phlegm some
adore, so coot cutie cooch boots
to the ants of swarm! Go get your
hive mind when it bees too warm!

Go get your sane in
Get your balance CZECH.
Get out in Oklahomo where they
dance sing correct, correct how?
Wrecked what? I AM NOT ONLY
AIM just YET NO BODY MIND
DILLEMA IS SANE, PROBABLY
say LEM! Lemmy Kilmister popped
all the head-up wide-kneed stance
in the shop, slapped the BASS AN
-THEM

Calling ‘Ace of Spades!’
Well I’m the Ace of Fives
Don’t jab your jive jazz HANDS
up my conscious rise, or I’ll ride
you right from conscience
straight breaking the plane,

liminal.

Go express! Ain’t no
stops in your brain
or

well.
You know it.

Well better than I could ever
FLOW IT, HOLBES

wait up hey hey wait
what the what’s the
what’s a ‘holbes’ though
HOLBES?

I’m calling you holbes

so check it with your own,
‘Mike.’ that’s a true mean
measuring stick only a mother
could like, only you can lick

your own
holbes,
right?

OK OK MEBBE
kick Motorhead maybe
watch The Young Ones
Monty Python is Dead
Tott, Long Live The Neetch
(If He Taught You To Curse, But)

You live in reserve, what
he could
not

touch. 

Let alone
reach

______________________

Optional Art

“You Can Touch”
Crowded House art
by Nicholas Seymour
(the bassist and visuals
maven on stage and
screen, saving)

Brain Pan

I am learning it out
as I do: all aim
from the slow dense
basis I can’t but maintain
so dense and so slow
I can top bottom all.

And I pan consequence
just to own all your pain
that I myself caused because you

dropped balls.

It’s okay. Nothing serious
here staked or won.

Let us be sincere, now
cause our journey
is balls

I mean is
alls

I mean
is yalls no

walls.
We-All’s just

w’alls
next?
done

______________________

Optional Art

“Un Re De Generative Filler”

I truly don’t

mind! Ads,
marketing,
propaganda,
intel, “influence”
“manipulation”—it’d

be insane for me to mind, fearsome as my emotional
intellect has become, and indeed: always was.

It’s normal.

Most people naturally have that keen and experience
-whetted a prodigious and extraordinary emotional
intellect for need and want, like and love. It’s

the people who act all “WE
gotta be careful” or “THE WANTY
NEEDY people are the threat!” that

we’d be wise to be leery as hell of, to the point of
excluding their lame ass
from our social parties. All
out lollygagging and pop
-eyed incredible, warning

how “OH NOES: Other People
are Susceptible! To BAD AD
INFLUENCE!” These

are literally

the only ones

for whom it’s a factor! They
KNOW they’re susceptible. That’s why

they project it weaponized
outward as a “universal” warning,
twerped out and hormonal (testosterone
and adrenaline problem inside, largely), spraying
dumb ass-spew

verbally in all directions, yet
wise eyes POP large to recognize
and return the “warning” right
-about in its ORIGINATOR’S FACE:

“No, pal.
The problem is SOLELY
AND ONLY YOU: WHO
SAID IT. Who JUST TOLD
ON SELF.” The rest of us
know what we want!
We also know a sales
job when we see one.

OK? We’re interested!
To navigate the exper
-iences ourselves, and
settle only for what ma
-kes us happier faster, l
-onger, better AND sure.

That’s one hell of a “settle,” and people
throughout the entire intelligence bell-
curve are ALL way the hell better at it t
-han the “influenceophobes,”

so-called

cretins!
Think it’s
other people
the danger. It’s
only themselves. Cretins.
Every single, solitary, susceptible

one.

You
can
always tell, too, because they always tell you.

They’re phobic of irrational fear of being
gotten to do what they wanted to: to
be of use! To another, and not only
their own lame ass! CRETINOUS

WRETCH! DOCTOR YOUR OWN
INNER MASTERPIECE, HOW DARE YOU

It’s normal

Verbatim Rando Online #1

~ Verbatim Random Comment Reply
to someone suggesting music is
the window to the "soul" (or
words to said effect) ~

_____________________________

That’s…a mind-blower. Thanks

for that. Never heard it. Considering

it,

though. I’d say
music is such a
window! Wow!

One that conceivably runs
both one-to-one and one-to
-many, where

“one”

is both producer and/or
consumer of music. Shit.

Too deep for my blood. See,
I’ve always heard “the eyes”
are windows of the soul, or
to the soul, which I buy. I buy
it to precisely the extent (not
“degree,” naturally) I’d buy
the independent existence of

“human souls.”

Not much. Not at any price,
and not at all “too surely.” But
still! If this is the definition of

“soul”:

• a soul is the damage a body inflicts on the spirit inhabiting it
  -me

…and it is the definition of “soul,” then
it’s been damn hard to deny! Deny what?

That some-to-many animals have souls, given
solely where “spirit” means only “breath” or
“light,” naturally. The living part: exuded,
inspired, expiring with every division of

cells.

Being renewed…using hot, pokey, one-to-one
unions even. Sorry!

It’s not supposed to be confusing, “soul.”

However, given weird janky definitions, it’d
take a real asshole to consider its existence
even supported or supportable. ‘Nuff said!

“Excelsior” is wood shavings.

Make Mine Marvel.

evolve

For traveling on highways bugs are much too soft
Sixty miles an hour kills the dumb ones off
Further from the road the smarter ones buzz on 
Do their thing, and pass those smarter genes along

Life is not a tragedy, it's problems we can solve
Oh, oowhoa, oh oowhoa you better evolve

I don't know if the aliens are studying us
Probing genitalia and brains and such 
But we had better get our rockets out in space
So we can find ourselves an unsuspecting race

Hassle them like sheep, and not let on that we're involved
Oh oowhoa, oh oowhoa you gotta evolve

I heard about the supervirus holocaust
Invented by the rainforests to kill us off
Well some of our mad scientists should intervene 
Create replacement photosynthesis machines 

Then it would be simple: pave it over, problem solved
Oh oowhoa, oh owhoa we get to evolve

America Duty

America! Is the land of milk 
and honey, you're the cream. 
Let's tie you up, on a pedestal
the better to be seen.
Around the world! They
will cry your name, and
face the sun: a blaze of red! 

Dying in the west. 

And all the world is so happy now, 
the change has surely come. 
America! We can't do without 
the thing you have become.
So hoist the flag! Run it up the pole, 
and let it fly so pure and white! 

You know that it was bleached.

We all want a part of your progress
We all want a part of your hope
I guess you can have your American
Way, with the globe.

America! Eat some fireworks and dogs,
whatever's due. It's time to come,
so accountable and right and just and true. 
So sound the bell! Let it toll and roll
thunderclap skies so dark and blue! 

It cracked the dead of night. 

Tomorrow, we could all get along: 
the living and the dead. America, 
we could do without your godforsaken 
bed of endless sighs, scaling up in size 
to scare off peace, endless blood feuds 

to reap fields of release. 

It's Captain A! Batman, LexCorp
too the world has come to love.
It's Mickey Mouse, operational 
to reap where we can't shove
with woke rewards, reparations
bought, sued, tried and tied
make so much green!

We might as well have lied. 

Let's kill the Hulks, Blobs
and Gojiras before they grow 
so mad! Their human fans 
eat their genitals, oh no,
so sad. too bad.

For all the rest?

Why not wash a load of finest clothes 
and see what's cute? Enough to hit the beach 
without shelling it, pounding it into flying
body parts and submission generations
ago for once 

first

you know 

just to be safe

"Sacrament"

Last night, I saw you in my dream
what's more, I think that you saw me
and you were walking alongside.
Alone & naked, you looked into my eyes:
You're tired of life. Of what you can do, 
and tired of the things you can't.
You need someone to teach, and
someone to learn, and someone
to understand. 

Well I will join you.
I will join you, in this:

it's a sacrament.

We walk a world we did not make
We tried. It wasn't to our taste
We speak of wisdom and virtue
I think the secret is inside you
You're tired of love, without knowing why
Of flying with no place to land
With no one to teach, and no one to learn,
and no one to understand.

Well I will: join you.
I will join you: in this.

It's immaculate.

And we met in a place where nobody goes,
and something passed between us, over and
over and over and over. 

The moment is gone. You're left here with me
We hold each other in our hands
With nothing to teach.
And nothing to learn.
And nothing to understand.

But I will: join you.
I will, join you!
In this.

We're transcending it.
It's immaculate.

It's a sacrament

the shark machine

Don't rub your shark 
the wrong way. 

You know 

the scales 
on his back 
are like razor 
quills. He's a 
perfectly tooled 
and tuned machine 
to strip you to skin, 
devoured at will, so 
ram his dumb ass
harpooned deep 
inside a dance 
far too murky 
and cool 
to evolve.
 
So either 
he gets you 
or you will 
my love. 
Either way 

it's no problem 
you mutually solve

"Toothpaste Kiss"

I'm sure you're so presentable
before you do a thing at all
Well okay, maybe brush your teeth,
funky as the funk can be
But there's a lot the world don't know,
I'd like to find out some or more
and maybe if I could show you
anything you'd like to see?

I want to taste your toothpaste kiss.
I want to taste your toothpaste kiss.
I'll try to guess what brand you use
I want to wake up next to you

I'm not the kind of guy to fear
commitment love and all of that
If you're the one and so are we,
I'm sure we'll know eventually
'Cause love's a thing that's hard to find
and love's a thing you can't define,
and love's a thing I wouldn't take
lighter than a ton of bricks, but

I want to taste your toothpaste kiss
I want to taste your toothpaste kiss
I'd try to guess what brand you use
I want to wake up next to you
So do you like it just like this?
I want to baste your chicken lips
Try not to mess the sauce you use
With nothing but my natural juice

I'm not the kind to want to give
a thing that you'd ever regret
'Cause what would be the point of that?
I'd rather take you all right back.
Sincerely I won't mind you miss,
if you and I are no one's catch,
but truthfully I'd love to eff.
It's not a thing we would forget,

but do you love, a touch like this?
I want to baste your chicken lips
I want to try Pad Thai fish, too
I want to wake up next to you.

I love you give me such a look
I want to write a fishing book!
So do you mind or heart me, miss?
I want to taste your toothpaste kiss

And do you want only one wish?
I'd rather aim for three, ourselves!
I want to wake up next to you.
A genii is genius times two.

I want to taste your toothpaste kiss
I want to taste your toothpaste kiss
By native tongue, no subterfuge
I'd like to guess what brand you use

"Dutch Courage"

It's a slander from history:
French envelopes, Dutch
courage and Huguenot
sex. Surprise!

We didn't need any
protection or drinks
to fall into Chinese
fortunes and die.

Oh, but just little
deaths. Petites morts
all around! Worked
to grand mal
proportions
inside you

end me.

To tack
on "in bed!"
to the end of a
scrip of white
paper baked in
to vanilla, flat dough
is supposed
to make
otherwise
boring-as fortunes
come true.

Well, it worked
quite a treat
between us
with no
clothes

Me/You
become
Us/We

for good.

Not a bad drop of blood,
none of alcohol's flood
only just what we’ve got!
Soberly and so grave, so
we know our own might,
and think may be we
should have
or have

(k)not

Good miss
& good save. 

"Canadian Standoff"

She loves being tricked. 
"Who doesn't?" She thinks. 
"It's perfect legit when 
you trust some one." 

Well,
I don't
see the point 
of her purposeless 
lies, unbelievably 
told at the point 
of a gun, but

I know it's a plastic
pistol, see-through. 
And I see that it's pink 
with a glimmering 
fluid. I don't know 

If it's flammable, 
acid or booze. 

So I tell her 
the truth: shoot 
yourself!

We 
lose.