purgatory revisited

sometimes real
sometimes fake,
hard like steel
soft as cotton.
a main street tramp
seducing evil.
savior of the fucked.
double down on paradise
with recycled cash.
masked confusion
from a suicide note.
biblical icon
requests his rape.
asking for it in the ass.
lips turned blue
the finger tips frozen.
the heart floundered
over the line.
the jester forecasts
easy penetration.
collects the seed
from fat cocks first.
long ones second.
red roses bleed
the sun on fire.
blistered mountains
a holy man’s balls.
free dogs barking
at an idiotic sky.
criss crossed kings.
used up queens.
eyes dancing with cobbled cock.
virgin junkies
eat dynamite.
purgatory revisited.
sleeping steel rusts
on the vine.
flesh in oil
nailed to the wall.
exit to the phobia.

always virgin

inside each other
past invisible limits.
a rhythmic pulse
beat deep inside us.
accentuated breathing
was our conversation.
a universal language
of absolute pleasure.
we’re released into
another lifetime.
tangled up in
an hour of need.
the dark erased,
our sight restored
by blinding light.
laws of nature
deliberately corrupted.
we reminisced
the new day.
we lived patiently
with an air
to indifference.
we lusted for
the wild
born in us.
this wilderness
flowed between us.
we grayed from
miles stumbled over,
storms sailed through.
in this paradise
our flesh bruised,
the lips burned.
danced like humans
we kissed often.
taught our innocence
to each other
like lovers will.
sleeping in roses,
thorns stood guard.
last drops of venom
milked from snakes.
a holiday feast
on our thighs.
our world celebrated.
tomorrows never were
a day of steal
or night of iron.
sadness harvested
from gardens
by the forgiving.
fly with sparrows.
each time being
the first time.

pure poetry

i wrote my poem
five miles long.
at 100 miles an hour.
in my dodge
on a dead end
dirt road.
escaping the heat,
blue lights flashing.
my stripped naked
murder crucifixion
is prosecuted.
my blood is famous.
my poetic perversion
is discovered.
every poet is born
with a hard on.
my talents
leap from the page.
my cock is not my cock.
my balls are not my balls.
i lick flat chested nipples.
my poem is filled
with ironic superstitions
of homo-erotic verse.
his eyes drip sperm.
i write an
assault weapon masterpiece
on his ass, in his ass.
volcanic words flow from
my abortion of the rules.
i’m a pornographic poet.
i make everyone
my bitch.
sloppy seconds first,
virgins next to last.
smother my lips
cowboy queers.
poets can forgive
a bad blow job.
i often do.
i’m a fucking poet.
get over it.

religious sex

he reached in

my mouth.

pulled out my

nicotine tongue.

replaced it with words

i never would say.

i believe in jesus.

cock and balls

and buddha too.

it’s like the first time

on a ferris wheel in the wind.

church bells ringing in rhyme.

dry wells and floods.

the deserts committing murder.

mountains leaving you frozen.

the lord can take it.

or give you kissable lips

and a kissable ass.

my prayers and perversions

are answered.

you’re hard and naked.

inside a burning

bright white light.

all a mysterious way.

sometimes it’s a matter of self respect.

a worship celebration

of holy intercourse.

i go to eros

for love and desire.

mary to clean my wounds.

i live outside the law

where demons roam.

i wash their feet.

they piss on me.

john the baptist filmed it all.

we sip semen wine

from white buffalo.

gangs of angels

bang on me.

sliding up into my soul.

my knees in glass

i learned to breath.

enlightened from desolation.

the moans are chants

from a lubricated choir.

candles and incense

hide the smell of my

sloppy seconds mass.

eventually it’s terminal

did they ever find the guy?
buried in that sink hole.
did it rain last night?
rumor has it my memory
crashed a week before last.
i hear one dylan song
i want to masturbate
like only queers do.
i was afraid to be naked
for you by the light.
i’m waiting a full moon
to pull back the sheets again.
i’m no longer waiting to
take my place on stage.
i have no interest since
you discovered my ears.
you nailed me to the cross.
something in the alley
has the dogs barking.
wild horses rumble by.
a hummingbird skips
from one flower to another.
i unlock the padlock
on the gold tobacco.
sometimes it seems
my luck never runs out.
i brought a ladder for
you to climb the wall.
raw soldiers decorate
with my ashes from
being fucked to death.
a different kind of high
this is my invention.
for the first time it’s
always free and easy.
hair on my chin is gray.
i piss out wisdom and
paint my own history.
i’ve lost track how many
times our cocks kissed.
our frog fingers broken.
untaught neighbors wish
for job security and
a facial now and then.
my temperature rises
when the bacteria
inside me grows.
i never turn off
ramblings of a man
castrated by another.
outside my window
i give everyone a name.
i break more often now.
giving middle names too.
there is no sunset cause
i’m saving it for last.
i have more holes
to crawl out of and
neighbors to meet.

junk bombs

i’ll pawn my soul
for the sword.
i’ll fight for peace.
i’ll kill for peace.
the sun will wrestle
with the desert.
fill it with the sea
for peace.
the rose will revolt
against the winter.
bloom in the bitter cold.
its thorn tears my flesh.
blood frozen on my lips.
i bleed for peace.
thirst for a sour whore.
ride wild ponies
to the moon
and back.
pray to st. john
for peace.
be the lamb
that feeds the lion.
ugly next to beauty,
the castrated,
among virgins
for peace.
talk soft to
to a callused heart.
share an empty poem
for peace.

who you going to bomb now?

war drums beating,
i was born into this.
the ghost
dressed in rags
of darkness and light
came to carry
my weary bones away.
the sun was half hidden
inside tangled
cold iron and steel.
the wind was outrageous,
the bodies tumbled.
the choir sang
the star spangled banner.
i shared a camaraderie
with a bruised and battered
heaven and hell.
a pack of dogs
is freer than me.
i am freer than a poem
in a shattered brain.
my menthol cigarettes
make me worry less.
like a beatnik patriot.
i touch everything
within my reach.
loose teeth sinks souls
lucky not to be baptized.
don’t aim
pull the trigger.
a mile is further
than i remember.
diamonds in the rough
are too polished.
mount rushmore bleeds.
the meaning of christmas
is a dynamite high.
the slow train
has jumped the track
like suicide.
i desire to be last
if the first are last.
my ashes will not be contained.
the commanders won’t tell us
who america will burden tomorrow.