Can you hear the exotic cry, the erotic sigh?

21 Sep

When the senses have been pinched

and the seeds of ecstasy have been sown

when all the men who are women and the women who are men

and all the people who are both and the people who are neither

begin rubbing and sucking and hugging and kissing

Can you hear the exotic cry, the erotic sigh?

for the gratification has been delayed for too long

far too often have we toed the line only to discover

there is no line

there is no toe

only a crazy gaze and a constant twisting and turning

trying to feel past the feeling and grasp something real

each of us feels so alone

even when we are within one another

we still look for love

Can you hear the exotic cry, the erotic sigh?

we all meet together on some nondescript streets

licking and sucking and whipping and kissing and

laughing out loud at this wonderland of the weird

this lost paradise

better to build a bridge

20 Sep

better to build a bridge than a wall

better to reach out with my hand

than brandish a gun

the world is awash in our bodily fluids

be it our blood, our tears, our semen

we urinate and defecate where ever we like

not knowing such things seep back into our mouths

over the passage of time

because we are so closely entwined

we cannot cough without all of us coughing

we cannot kill without all of us killing

we cannot make love unless we make love to all who live

no wall can stand the test of time

all foundations collapse from neglect

better to build a bridge and welcome each other

give shelter where shelter is needed

we must provide a proper place

where the world may relieve itself

no wall can keep out the seepage of acts done in the dark

it finds it’s way in and eats at our most precious dreams

we must welcome in the bodily fluids of the world

and use them to become immune

for a bridge will give us what we need

it is a bridge, not a wall

that will make us all stronger


Speak Softly

19 Sep

Speak softly as if you

had been born just this morning

and the world is young and uncertain

of it’s purpose, it’s position, and it’s shape

Such a time as this is as delicate

as a freshly laid egg

Speak softly and choose your words

as if upon your words the

canopy of stars depended

This day is tender and does not

require a push

only a softly spoken request

will coax the phoenix from the flames

Pick your path

for during the night the rains

have erased all traces of the past

no maps remain to reassure your mind

so speak ever so softly

and take your first step

as if you were born

just this morning



There is an urgency

19 Sep

There is an urgency in my dreams

I have my orders which

I am attempting to carry out

But the intel is faulty

and I am distracted

by this wasteland which stretches beyond the horizon

and the magnificent open blue

of the welcoming skies

promising something wonderful

lies just outside this terrible task

this impossible objective

There is an urgency in my body

I attend to every signal

hidden in the headline

spoken by the ghosts in my headphones

noted, recorded and filed away

for when this sky begins it’s fall

I will welcome any information I can find

no matter how cryptic, crippled and confused

I am patient and I know that eventually

all codes will be broken and

the breeze will blow softly across my cheek

and from out of that magnificent blue

with come peace

Red Room 5am

18 Sep

I look out the window

rain soaked street

Red Room 5am

She laughed to herself

What a silly body I had

so unlike hers

sleek and lean

mine so stiff

and growing longer

with every lie I told

What is this place? she asked

the stairs are so steep and terribly narrow

I wonder where they lead?

It is all so red, I said

elegant and well maintained

ill suited for a smelly pup like myself

We nestled close

cherishing each others musky warmth

Red Room 5am

rain stroked street

the air feels close as a blanket

sticky and sweet

and the narrow stairs lead downward

into a delicious darkness

where we are permitted to forget

What if everything I know is wrong?

17 Sep

What if everything I know is wrong?

Would the Sun be any less bright?

Would the kids in the playground

stop playing and ask

Who am I? and What am I doing here?

Wouldn’t the day be much the same?

Even if new thoughts or strange thoughts

scary thoughts or silly thoughts

or no thoughts at all

took place inside my brain

Wouldn’t the homeless man still ask for spare change?

Wouldn’t I have to squeeze inside the subway?

Wouldn’t I have to dodge the bodies bustling

down the busy sidewalks of the city?

What if I could prove that nothing at all exists?

That all of the world is nothing more than a dream?

Wouldn’t I still go to work?

Wouldn’t I still complain about all the usual things?

and yearn for love and understanding from

all these people that actually don’t exist?

Does being right or being wrong?

Really mean anything?

Do I really need to be reassured that

my life and my world exist?

When my life and my world carry on anyways

without my thoughts, my comment, my belief


Yikes! (when the world jumps out at you)

16 Sep

I think I have already written a poem

called Yikes!

but Yikes! I’ve got to write another one!

When the world jumps out at you

all sexy and sweaty and much too close

to my face, well…..


When the world jumps out at you

with a furry embrace and a smelly lick

across your face, well…..

Yikes! I feel so alive and bristling with

passion for just being alive!

When the world jumps out at you

try not to get all red in the face

and look for a place to hide

let it penetrate your worrisome hide

and plant tiny seeds of possibility

deep inside your cells

which will grow into something

incredible, unexplainable

a little bit you and a little bit of the universe

leaving you at a loss for any word save one


A clean bill of health

16 Sep

and so it’s looks like I’ve been given a

clean bill of health

a certificate of wellness

a diploma which will serve me well

in the years ahead

I have a strong heart

and a clear head

I should be able to do just about


It can weigh so heavily upon one’s mind

when things aren’t quite right

I need a clean bill of health

to set things straight

and allow me to find the strength

to live to the limits of my


I am the point of the P

15 Sep

I am the point of the P

polite and popular

but also pesky, prickly, and particular

I am the point of the pencil

the pin of the pen

the purpose of the pancake

my P bulges out

until it reaches it’s peak

I am the point of the P

soft and round,  bulbous and kind

but also sharp and severe

my P can be placid

my P can be calm

my P can explode from a drop

to a pond

my P can be a pee or a piss

a prick or a prod

a poke or a pod

a pocketful of posies

or a penis parade

my P can be poured or picked or pawned

but at the end of the P

I’d just have to say

my P is a poem

which is the point

of this whole thing



14 Sep

Growth is not tidy, measured and safe

Growth is bursting, gushing forth

Growth is Raucous

Rough and Ready

Putting the past behind us

Raggedly and Rudely

Growth does not stand on ceremony

it pushes up toward the heat of the Sun

Relentlessly and tenaciously

with no thought of retreat

no possibility of surrender

Growth wins out

Growth does not concede an inch

to Death


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