Friends*

*with revoked benefits
wholly squandered on fidelity
whom in youth and decadence
i would but proudly fuck

perhaps the third attempt would be your charm
your louisiana accent my own undoing,
mon brave, mon liege, my marine
perchance i would surrender
to proudly rise and serve
in battles of stonewall’ian proportions

one can never have too many jamaicans
whoa is me and my loyalty
on hot summer baltimorean nights
when you came caterwauling
with an itch looking for a little action
and a white boy to do some scratching
plans for a threesome unraveled
because if one thing mixes like oil and water
it’s two dominant male jealous jamaicans

oh there was never enough wine
not even in the loire valley
to cause me to go astray
but perhaps with all the grapes of france
california and south america
the nameless one who worshiped
the ground i jogged on
could have had his sacrosanct way

that new york smooth yankee
with all the rush of times square
should’ve taken his time
instead jumping out of the sheets
and rushing out the door subway fast
putting out can come slowly
especially in my own southern way
but it was your day wasted, not mine

i have gone on down the pike
10, 5 or 2 years looking back
is not too far gone but dizzying
when dwelling on what lingers:
memories and missed opportunities

o my jake, my jake
let the ghosts of the past come
trying to conjure my infidelity
with your cock-sure confidence
and hot fuck lust passions
mingled with occasional romance
we can drown them all
in a decades worth of grinding

Roots

how you must’ve reeled
in the embarrassment
of not being chosen,
but then simplicity
and down-to-earthness
were the orders of the day
how hot did you burn
in the wake of my easy going-ness,
losing to the preference of me
a simple minded country boy out of kentucky?

i had never lived outside the commonwealth
but the big island was not so different
with it’s EZ Pass way of life
and its drunken aloha spirit
hindering the pace of time:
simple pleasures came too easy

then the big city came calling
who was i to resist the siren’s call
of hustling life, dazzling lights
bustling commutes, dizzying fast pace
fruits of knowledge hang low
over dirty concrete
rich for the picking and presentation
in lime-laced cosmopolitan glasses
then i became aware of my lacking
my tongue craved the gray goose martinis
feet wanted to waltz on the boulevard of stars
mouth speaking directions to tourists
as if i could direct them to the nearest versace
eyes resting in grand rooms above central park
big city meted out materialism
trampling this country boy, roots and all

now, i’ve returned
with the aftertaste
of success fading
yet no less starstruck

finally, it is you may laugh
at the burning in my core
knowing continents have shifted
and our universes reversed

Pele Smiled

above the lagoon
just where the old wagon road
arches and starts to meander
up the hillside
through the weeds and among the trees
the palm fronds settle and smile,
clapping gently for us
and offering sacrificial gifts of coconuts
mingled with rain
we find shelter a bit
from this easing storm
in a tropical grove
where we kiss and imaginations run wild
with “what if”

Independence

in a cool unusual july
unseen fireworks fill the sky
she considers the consequence
leading to newfound independence
drawing her dream close to her side
she gazes into freedom held in her eyes

She-Devil

she sauntered in
like a whirlwind,
small and inconspicuous
kicking leaves about
in an otherwise quiet corner

she offered red, swirled
licorice in her right hand
blue skirt flailing about her waist,
but there was something seductive
about the way that red candy twirled
and spun, long and semi-hard,
landing in and wetting her mouth

if i were straight, how could i resist?
but i’m not, so i chose the licorice

Kissknot

i do not miss an uncertain something
that others crave in an imposing kiss:
that mound of flesh
probing my warm depths,
muscling mouths
exchanging wetness

a kiss means nothing to me,
it is best kept short and sweet
besides, i can find other places
for your petal-soft tongue to be

Detour

Her chair slides back
into a relaxed repose
while the garage door
moans to a close.
Moon roof reveals
a lone, unlighted bulb
glistening in the final
rays of the setting sun.
The engine hums to life;
beyond the door,
children roar
with laughter
in this cul de sac
of juxtaposition-
There is a spark,
patronage in almost passing.

This is how poetry
saves a life.

Drain

my fingernails flick and click
against the glass
causing the cubes to chatter,
contents to whirl and splatter
while raindrops patter
against the pane
i despise the negativity
you proclaim in self-pity
for a life circling the drain

051309

it’s poison ivy and you’re lucky it doesn’t kill you
you say because he told you so
and because it came from his down below
to me, it is nothing more than a half used
bar of soap tucked away like a kerchief
in some 1700 dandy’s sleeve

Voiceclear

i have a long lived fear
of hearing my own voice
if only it were prophetic
then maybe i wouldn’t
possess this obsession
then again that was
case and problem with cassandra