sweet jesus

if you
need him
you’ll find him.
everyone does
at one time
or another.
he likes
the ladies.
two at a time.
one hanging
on his arm,
with tits
like over stuffed
duffel bags.
and one
on the
other arm,
with a pair
no bigger
than a mouthful.
he likes
the boys,
pimple free
with no
boundaries.
dripping
like a virgin.
forbidden fruit
in the allies
of phoenix.
he’s magic.
with a
magic wand
he turns
mother teresa
into a
holy cow.
his name
is sweet jesus.
he’s the sound
behind the song.
the question
before the answer.
he blesses
the fool
after the fact.
he’s the
son of a bitch,
i emulate
and imitate.
much like
everyone
at one time
or a another.

not bragging if its true

i’m a cold-blooded poet.
born that way
with perverted passion
to expose myself.
i defend the sissy
in the latest fashion.
and dime store whores
dressed in disease.
i don’t fight fair.
i like to leave scars.
straight men
read my poems,
and want to suck dick.
but they’re not queer.
i’m ok with that.
i feel obligated to them
just watch the teeth.
every man
bears his cross.
on his knees
the suicide burden
is child’s play.
i’m jealous
of the mexican’s
cock and tongue.
he rides me
like a mustang
and puts me away wet.
i can be in a strange land
east or west.
breaking the law
with a strange hand
crawling down my pants.
it’s rough being a poet.
i write with a hardon.
in a jock strap
smoking menthol cigarettes.
sometimes i bottom
but mostly i top.
they always
remember my name.
the indoctrinated
are very tight.
they scream and moan,
tumble and twist.
that’s a poem
all to it’s self.
like being pissed on.
there is no one beautiful
or no one deformed.
i murder all half-truths.
i strangle all
bold-faced lies.
i have no sympathy
for those not naked.
my poems are edged
till they ejaculate
in your face.
i shower
after every poem.
i never know
when i’ll fuck
another sonnet
better than
bukowski did.

i love free porn

the sparrow dropped her seed,
i sprouted into a forest to breathe.
my branches cast a shade
for every creature within me.
each wild flower is naked,
the brave and the frightened
crawl on the paths.
the sun searches for my soil,
to feed those that are nursing
beneath those that are seasoned.
they give themselves to desires
and seek rest when they depart.
we will remain safe
with make believe names.
the meadow is filled with voyeurs.
watching those that are cursed
and those sacrificed inside lips.
the well will replenish our thirst
when we’re dry.
the sky will be a diamond mine.
expectations for pearls is greed,
that threatens my crafted solitude.
then he accidentally loves me.
and swells inside with sentiment.
in the face of my defense
i humble myself from hostility.
i follow him to his hiding place,
beyond the meadow and the forest.
i serve him as a castrated god.
separated from all religion
that kills its own for salvation.
i’ll burn like the fire in the sun.
be the beast and the bird
singing together a battered chant.
waterfalls keep falling.
we mingle together with our eyes.
we help each other to our feet
and dance and dance and dance.
our confusion is not too thick.
camouflaged in seclusion,
we hide as cotton and stones.
no one’s found us for years.
he will be tomorrow’s stranger.
i’ll introduce myself to him.
sitting at the edge of the garden
in a satisfying eden of suspense.
we’ll know each other again.

god is a maniac poet

on top of me,
a beautiful tornado,
his face is the clouds.
his sweat pouring rain.
the perfect storm.
i will name him
in the light
of tomorrow.
i’m happy for hate.
so i understand
this love.
to learn the taste
of sour,
so i crave the sweet.
his flesh is
ocean foam.
i taste the salt
on his swinging stones.
i’m a maniac poet.
blessed to be angry.
spitting my sex
on his fruit.
i gamble away
my nicotine tongue
inside of him.
years of the sun
have not spoiled him.
our music is carved
from unknown notes.
he uses my ears
to crucify my throat.
i’m never satisfied
to be satisfied.
his fingers fondles
me in prayer,
arousing my soul.
the older i get,
the younger i get
to dying.
he’ll be the last
naked sparrow
to kiss me.
sealed together
by man made glue.
from a holy fire
our eyes are buried
in each other’s ash.
god is a maniac poet.
a healer of crime.

stoned poet

i bury his name
beneath my tongue.
when i think of him
i speak of him
in a whisper.
he drains my brain
of gypsy pain.
crucifies my anger
like a man of faith.
baptizing my lust
between my legs.
i am satisfied
when his albino veins
explode in my face
and curls down
my throat.
i’m an elite soldier,
willing to be carved
by his sword.
his blade cuts away
my hunger.
spilling it on the floor.
he erases my wounds
like a holy man can.
my scars disappear.
i masturbate in
broad daylight
when his eyes
tell me to.
for his audience
i am pawned
as bread and wine.
they taste me
with a drooling grin
but i’m not bitter.
i stumbled
in here humble.
always prayerful,
always playful
when high
in heaven.
he chiseled me
with marble flesh.
he left me
uncircumcised.
my treasure was free
to give away,
my jewels fondled
by cactus hands.
i was born again
to live forever.
multiple ejaculations.
i am a victim
of pleasure
and the deadly catholic.
whoever he was,
whatever that was,
i needed
to be excused,
to smoke
another poem
and enjoy
the incense
around my ears.

conversation with a dog

when i throw
dali a bone,
she’ll sharpen
her teeth on it
while i talk
to her.
her ears
will be up
and she’ll
listen good.
i’ll tell her
whose neck
i want to wring.
and who i
want to fuck
with no
strings attached.
i’ll kiss her
between the eyes,
she’ll smile
her familiar grin.
we both stare
at the sparrow
in the tree
singing with
no reason
for a song.
the junk man
in the alley
distracts us
for a moment.
and the day
of the week
is lost on
us both.
the afternoon
air grows hot,
it’s harder
to breathe,
my pipe is ash,
my tongue
is dry.
dali’s eyes
drift shut,
and i know
i‘ve talked
long enough.
tomorrow i
will tell
her about
the brunette,
with blow
job ears
and the creep
i had
to strangle.

my brian years

i make myself invisible,
and hide between the sheets.
between the edge of the sky
and the underground.
my deviant lover looks for me.
he’ll find me with his tongue.
hold me in his mouth,
tease me with his throat
till he swallows my heart.
my years are not lonely.
this icon feeds me peace.
in his nocturnal emissions
i take refuge near him.
he is not a selfish spirit.
there is no fear between us.
he kisses my deformities,
traces my scars with his eyes.
a blossom smiles in me
from fluid he spills on me.
wisdom wastes our time.
everything ugly disappears.
there is beauty in his anger.
his magic fondles my flesh
ejaculating away my pain.
i have a satisfied mind
and i have not lived forever.

bumped into ten inches shopping

freeballin
in my 501s,
the middle button
is missing
for style.
faded
on the right
cause i hang
that way.
cruising
friday night
at the
bethany home
target,
where
the metro
ends.
the big boys
come out
with their
old ladies.
i stroll
personal care
wishing i needed magnums.
they say i
would if i
was black.
i heard
someone
says
to her,
queers ain’t
got no
monopoly on
the butt hole.
he grabbed
some cool
and wet lube,
cinnamon hot
for her.
i flash back
to crisco,
vintage vaseline,
and my best
friend dying.
he always
had a coupon
for it.
mothers stopped
kissing their
pretty sons,
the ones with
rotting flesh.
before that
everyone
swallowed.
i found
the perfect
panties,
i buy
large
or the balls
hang out.
the usual
hardon
happens
at the
jock straps.
i throw
an orange one
in the cart.
some batteries
for my
hearing aids,
and electricity
for later.
next comes
the dog food
aisle.
i bumped
into it
there.
hanging to
the left.
first with
my cart,
then my hand
then my ass.
in slow motion
it was growing.
he excused
himself
then introduced
himself.
i went to
personal care,
got some
magnums,
some cool
and wet
for the
bashful one.
he carried
my groceries
to the car.
his wife
says he
disappears
like that.
i would to
if i was him
and wanted
some ass.

my kind of woman

she gouges out my eyes,
so I can see her beauty.
her kisses pierce my tongue,
so her juices flow in me.
her nipples draw silhouettes,
up and down my spine.
her fingers spread my ass,
then the army is called in.
my balls in kerosene,
my cock is hollowed out.
she loves to keep it simple,
i want my pussycat.

day in nebraska

the sun
erased from
the sky.
i walked
in the dark.
looking for
jesus
from omaha.
fuck you
i said to
the monsters.
i am brave.
i thought
he had
two arms
before
the god wars.
now just one.
his hand
is steel.
a virgin torn
by the
machine.
i would
be his lover
when i
find him.
his lips
will be
the horizon.
his cock
a grinning
pirate
firing
cannon balls
over
high water.
i will
drink
the old sea.
be his son
and his father,
his empty hole
to crawl into.
the garden
he plants
his seed in.
he will tie
my shoes.
i will piss
on him
to show him
my sacrifice.
he’ll finger
himself
to show
me his.
we will draw
the sun
back into
the sky.
fucking naked
buddhas.
our balls
dancing
over others
on the
milk run.
the next day
we’ll continue
tagging
the sun.