it’s all about
diggin into stretch runs
of elbow deep
heart throbbin traditions,
in how to walk
this life together
in being a power couple,
like two heart radios
comin together from a small town
with her beautiful paints
strokin in gentles curves
to enhance our creative canvas
in our newfound moves
to keep us together forevermore.


i’ve got all these extra layers on,
of which a carhartt coat
is the outside layer.
it doesn’t mean much to me
as to the outside,
because it simply hasn’t done anythin
for me on the outside.
it’s a hard workin
that brings absolutely nothin.
i still remember
a friend of mine tellin me,
“spice up what ya actually do for a livin
when around the women.”
i knew he was tellin me,
what i did for a livin
didn’t ADD UP too much.
so i told the women
what i actually did for a livin,
and it certainly didn’t ADD UP too much.
this is why i enjoy
comin to this work zone,
where i can at least say,
“this is my bridgehead, n if i put a picture
of myself underneath this poem, it might make a difference”.


it’s a getaway
sexy weekend escape,
in a just being here
spread along a secluded beach,
thinkin of her poetry
that is runnin around
in the soundtracks
of soft acoustical arrangements
in this man’s tender ballads,
fueling like non-stop anthems
for her songstress eyes
to come in like a backstage pass
for a frontman’s heart.


pure and deep
into the abyss
is that shy soul.
lonely outsider with
bright eyes of insight in
the dust storm of the false paths.

don’t be consumed in
the soft-treading politician.
special interests abound
in being a stray cat.

sit back in the chair -
drag your feet in capitalism.
be patient in the game -
your chance will come.


i’ve always been a firm believer

that competing meant to strive

to be the very best

at what you do.

but there seems

to be a new strain,

and it’s all about

how to do the least,

of which means

to be the very worst

at what you do.

i see it all the time

and it’s no wonder

it acts like

a retro-virus

to make one sick.


this is the antidote

that fights the disease,

because, after all, this writer

likes to pull from stiff competition.


perpetual spirals
in the pleasure kindles
of keep your relationship
sparklin so ever red-hot,
as if hangin
with a lady,
meant so much, that the moon
dropped out of the sky
n became the moon palace
along a white beach,
n holdin hands
sinkin our feet
in the sands
while standin still,
as water rushes up n down
our feet for a little while,
as if to mimic
the two of us
sinkin into each other
as the evenin fell
into authentic moon shapin ripples
across the water
n gettin the two of us ready
for quiltin sparklin passion.


the freedom to express
grew out of crucial needs
for a real partner
n a real self
without the please them
in a give in
to make them comfortable
in their control zones.
poetry it’s such a groovy
in the inner grooves
co-inhabitant intricate weaver
within oneself n becomes
the vital contract
that says:
it takes a mature palm tree
to drop coconuts
on the dumbfounded
when they least expect it!!