Sea Witch





“I love you”
She said.

And then wrapped her tentacled arms around me
Pulling me down below the surface
Fathoms deep.

She said it was for love.

She said it was for love
And I trusted her.

She kissed me hard
Salty slippery tongue darting
Through her oyster pearl teeth.

Maybe
She really did not know
That I would not survive
Without oxygen.

I held on to that kiss
Hoping that I would
Be able to breathe.

She might not have realized
That with the speed that she
Was taking me down in those waters
That I was experiencing the bends
As she dragged me deeper
Even more quickly
Caught up in the passion.

Her seaweed entangled hair
Rinsing about me is
Probably the last
Concious moments
That I can recall.

I have to wonder if she gave me a funeral
Before they found my body
Bloated and blue
Horseflies a buzzing
Lying with the shells and starfish
And driftwood
On the beach
After high tide.

PoetryTrix.com






The video starts
With some slick
Overly produced
Commercial Metal guitar
To induce fake excitment.

Some
Generic looking
Twenty something guy
Comes on.
He wants to look like he just came
Out of the shop
With his spiked dark hair
Goatee and chiseled sideburns.
He’s got some very safe, common
Tribal tattoos up and down his arms
That only he thinks are cool.
He’s a wannabee
A manequin.
There is no grease under his fingernails
There is no sincerity, no spirit.
He probably wouldn’t even spit on the sidewalk.

And so
Sitting solo on a stool
With rolled up sleeves
With a plain black curtain
As a backdrop
He speaks...

“Hey everybody! Welcome to PoetryTrix.com online poetry lessons. Looks like you
were checkin’ out some poetry tabs and clicked on our ad lookin’ for a little help with your
writing! Thank you.”

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cause a lot of frustration if you don’t have enough of a background for it.”

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the sketchiest poem on earth. You see...PoetryTrix.com has a team of M.I.’s in literature
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and this is the important part...all of the videos are interlinked step by step so that each video builds on what you learned before...you can be on here hours at a time!”

“When you’re watching the video, you just click on the ‘Next’ button and it will teach you the
next thing that you need to know even if you’re just starting out on how to hold a pencil or
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“Go ahead and sign up and we’ll show you what we’ve got over here at PoetryTrix.com!”

Enter
Slick
Overly produced
Commercial Metal guitar
To induce fake excitment
To fade.

Making Love






The image of you
Beneath me
Arched back
Muscles taut
Smooth ass
Flushed red from hungry hands
Moving
In tempo
To the agni
The fire
That you and I
Tend
Arousing smouldering lust
Into an engulfing
Fervorous
Combustion
Of animal noise
Words
Sweat
And electrical currents
That flicker and pulse
Deep
Beneath the skin
Between kinetic chakras.

The portrait
Of your framed face
Upon a pillow
Hair falling
Eyes closed
In ecstatic
Bliss
Wide mouth turned up
At the corners
Showing a slight
Wonderful smile
Of perfect satisfaction
Happiness
Peace
And content.

A Little Bit Deeper Still





Lover.

Tonight
Over pasta
And pizza
Fried calamari
Salad and canollis
A bottle of wine
Sprite and a coke

We just went
A little bit deeper.

Amidst
Waspy early retirement yahoos
Playing their
Trivia game
Loudly

I bonded with you ever more so.

Even if we were just friends
I would’ve had dinner
With you and my children
And the evening
Would probably have been
Much the same.

Enjoyable and entertaining.

But because I dig you
And I am into you
Much more than just a friend

Plus the fact
That you were so comfortable
With getting your
‘Toilet Humor’
On

We were four approachable people
Sitting at a table
Sharing good food
Bad manners
Laughs
And conversation.

I felt a bit closer to you
As I told my children
To stop teasing each other
And eat their dinners.

Showing off my exemplary
Parenting skills
I reminded them
That they were in a restaurant.

And then
Oh my God!

You shouted
‘Hannibal Lecter’
In answer
To the dorky serious guy
Running the trivia contest
Tonight.

We weren’t even signed up to play.

His face showed it all...
Shock
Dismay
Disgust.

He actually looked like he was
Ready to cry
When he realized
That this one question that might’ve
Stumped everyone
Was of no use to him anymore.

And yes
Like a brother and sister
Teasing each other
At a table in a nice restaurant

You broke the rules.

That is when I felt you
Even deeper still.

Ghost





You lie and tell me
That
You were not
In the house.

But
I find ashes
From your cigarette
Dropped on top
Of the green metal dresser
In the dining room
As you smoked
And drank
Most liberally
The richly expanding
Green syrupy contents
From within the antique
Chartreuse bottle
That sat there
Atop
Patiently
Waiting for those
Wonderful
Bits of time
In which I would uncork
That fine bottle
And value
It’s contents
While walking around
In a snowstorm
Befalling
The Victorian town in which I live.

The expensive
Meant to be sipped and appreciated
Apertif contents
Drained wrecklessly
Within one half of an hour
Like cheap barfly
Fortified wine.

You lie
And say that you were not here.




But a single earring of yours
Lies on the floor
In the hallway
Where the dogs like to lay
As the light of the sun
Passes through the thick glass lens
Of the front door
Warming their fur and the soft pine
Upon which they sleep
Dreaming
In color
Of heaven.

The sun
Falls upon a tiered
Hoop earring
Made of inexpensive brass.

It’s unmistakeably yours...

Probably purchased
From a flea market vendor
Or from a store that sold
Trinkets from India.

Now it is here alone and lonely.

There is a half of a cigarette
Put out carefully, neatly on the front step
To the house.

It is your brand.

You tell me that you weren’t here
But there it is...

A half of a cigarette
Ready to be relit and smoked
Down to the butt
As you sat out front on the porch
Or the stoop
Taking pleasure in your malady
Caught in the throes
Of the precious green nectar.

Your sauced and plastered mind
Forgetting about
This partially smoked
Piece of evidence
That you were here
Inside this house
Dancing with the ghosts
Of the past.

Crayons

During this cold, grey winter

It is a warmth to my heart

To have such a beautiful bloom

Colored bright

Like a child's coloring book.

Toilet Humor

When I saw this crude drawing at a jobsite

I had no idea what a life it would have.

Someone drew it

Probably not expecting anyone to see it

Secretly hoping that someone would.

Well I saw it

As I was throwing some trash onto the side porch.

It was drawn in carpenters pencil

On a sheet of gypsum board

Stacked with a bunch of other refuse

Against the wall.

Some day it will just dissappear.

But I found it and took a picture

And sent it to you.

This Michelangelo

This Rembrandt

This Van Gogh

This simple cave drawing of a man and a woman fucking

Has taken on life anew.

The woman on all fours before the man

Her crazy hair blowing forward.

The man standing behind her shooting bullets

With a big ass dopey looking grin on his face

His genitilia grossly enlarged.

You and I have shared so many laughs

Over someone elses crude drawing

That would normally be found in a public toilet.

It's too bad that they will never receive

The praise that they deserve.

It’s too bad that they will never know

That the resemblance to us

Is uncanny...

That you really do have crazy dark hair

And I really do have a big ass dopey grin

And grossly enlarged genitilia.

And like I said

It would dissappear.

I tried to get it

For a souvenier

And it was thrown out in the trash.

And yet that stupid drawing

That crazy depiction

Of you and I

Copulating

Continues to live on in still yet

Another venue,,,

In a crude and simple poem.

Baltimore

I was high.

It was one of those summer nights in Baltimore

Where the humidity was affecting everyone.

The air was wrapped tightly around the glow of streetlamps

And everything moved slowly in the thickness

Even the cars.

I was loaded with two of my friends.

We had shot dope back at their place

And were now on the prowl.

We moved like mercury

Casual and with stealth, like rats

Softly spoken slurs accentuated with giddy laughter.

We hit the steps of the Brownstone at which I lived.

A transvestite neighbor was perched like a proud bird on the stoop

Smoking a cigarette indifferently.

The drama was all there in the theatre of the doorway.

Tight shimmering skirt, a ripped Blondie t-shirt stretched over

Pretty, hormonally induced tits...her nipples were strong and big.

Long, reflecting fingernails lay by her side and held the cigarette.

Her face was a mix of self made beauty and punk rock tragedy.

I had met her before in the hallway

Always in outrageous clothes.

I’d pass her door

In and out

And hear the speed of the Ramones behind it constantly.

Tonight it was quiet.

I said “Hey baby, how about a kiss”

And puckered up with my eyes closed.

I felt something crack my jaw.

As I sailed down the steps

Backwards past my two friends

I looked up to see a pair of heavily smeared lips screaming

“You waited this long to ask me for a kiss!”, “You punk ass white boy!”

“You AND you’re jacked friends!”

The screaming continued as she went inside

Taking the steps in high heels in a fury.

“That pretty boy passes my door every day and he just now asking me for a kiss!”

I lay on the ground

Rubbing my jaw where she hit me.

My friends laughing their asses off.

Between the air, the junk and the punch

I was pretty much done.

It took me several minutes to come to

But I did.

My friends, still laughing, helped me up.

It was a summer night in Baltimore

And the humidity was affecting everything.

Yet I just got kissed by a glamorous queen on my front doorstep.

How bad could things be.

Laundromat Love

My clothes dance with your clothes

In a wet collide-o-scope

As I push you up against

The detergent heat of the dryer

And kiss you hard.

Your head against trembling metal

Shakes us.

With your legs around me

I suck on your full lips and tongue.

Fill turns to wash turns to rinse

Turns to spin

And I turn to jello.

My head is filled with dirty thoughts

As denim, cotton, lace and cordouroy

Are carelessly thrown into washers and dryers around us

And quarters drop

Into change boxes.

We are here in flourescent glow

In view of everybody

Half dressed and careless

Hot passion pouring out of us

Like liquid soap.

Fuck everyone

Fuck us!

Your sexy silk and lace

Wrestle with my hard and lusty cotton

In rumbling machines

And like our love

They tumble dry endless.

Tammy

I was still in a dream

As I climbed your grand staircase.

I had just finished taking a piss in the bathroom

On the second floor.

The burning incense

Thick and intoxicating

Entered my veins easily

As the Virgin Prunes played their lusty grind music on your stereo.

We were fiery animals!

What violent love we shared.

I could still taste you on my lips

As I reached your dimly lit bedroom.

And I really was in a dream.

I was light as the morning sun now trying to break through

The dusty windows of your house.

I was still gone on the heroin

And I could hear your birds singing

From the tropiary high on the fourth floor.

Classical piano drifted from one of your friends rooms from above

And fell down the stairs like powder at my feet.

I could imagine you behind the door

Lying naked in the warming morning sun

Sebastianne lying just above your head.

There would be an occasional flinch of his black tail.

You’re both remarkably beautiful.

And when I opened the bedroom door

You were.

Red Sundress

To be a red sundress

Touching skin that is soft and brown

The fabric moving sensually

With gracefully swaying hips

To filter in this glorious

Afternoon sun

And dance with the

Harbour breeze

Spirited and carefree

Straps lay on sculpted shoulders

Yearning to be kissed

By a lover

That sits in the grass

To be a red sundress

Scented with ardorous passion

Radiant and flirtatious

In the cool shade

Of a tree in a park

To reveal just enough

To make mens hearts quicken

And jealous wives to redirect their attention

Wishing that they too

Had a red sundress to wear

A Dream From Last Night

You were here in my dreams last night.

You were on top of me

Your dark hair falling down around my face

As you kissed me

And spoke soft encouraging words in my ear.

We were moving together

Building on a rythmn that was natural to the two of us.

My hands were holding your hips

As you brought your body down upon mine.

Our lips were wet of each other

And our mouths were hungry.

Our radiant bodies mapped by

Tongues and hands and eyes and nose.

In this dream there was no time.

There were no responsibilities.

We could just be us.

We could be devoted to each other completely.

You rose upon me

Your back arching.

Release and pleasure shook from you

And passed through myself

To my core.

You fell upon me in exhausted peace

And we lay breathing

In a spiritual bliss

Upon tousled sheets.

And as I felt the weight of your body press against mine

I knew that this was real.

And I thought to myself

That I must be dreaming.

Bob

Bob was a fat fucker.

He had a coupla faded jailhouse tattoos.

One over each nipple.

One said “Sweet” and the other “Sour”.

Classy guy, Bob was.

He had a few more on his arms.

“Bob” and one that used to be a cross

But the top point of the cross was faded out

So it looked like a child’s drawing of a limp dick.

I told him that and he got pissed at me.

I always made fun of Bob to his face.

He would get all mad

But he was pathetic and didn’t do anything.

His friend Billy gave him the homemade tattoos

When they were fourteen

Using a needle, India Ink and a shakey hand.

Me and another guy worked for Bob

Painting and skamming.

We needed the money

But Bob would also get us high.

The tradeoff was that I would have to bang Speedballs

Into the hanging flab of flesh on Bob’s forearms.

He was such a pussy.

I remember being crammed into this tiny bathroom

Of someone’s house that we were painting.

Bob alone could hardly fit in there.

I had a hard time manouvering and my arm hit the wall

As I drove the needle in

Completely missing

Blood spurting everywhere.

It was exhausting.

Bob was a pig.

Sharing a needle with him was out of the question

And there would be days

Where I would just go home

And get high on my roof.

Bob was missing some teeth

And the rest were yellowed and rotting

From chain smoking Benson and Hedges Golds.

He had a bad heart but he liked his dope.

He always had something...

PCP, pot, dust, meth, coke, heroin, downs and ups.

He grew up with the Beatniks

With pills and the Golden Oldies on the radio.

My nickname for him was “Mr. Sometimes”.

He wasn’t always there.

I’d ask him a question two or three times

Before he’d hear it.

Or he would just sit there for a couple of minutes spacing out.

We would be talking to him

Or laughing at him, making fun of him

Until sometimes we actually kicked him in his ankles to bring him back.

“You fuckers” he would say.

Sometimes he would just drift off mid sentence.

I don’t know how he got us jobs

But he was loyal to Billy first.

They had been friends since childhood

Growing up in the same neighborhood.

Billy was an alcoholic who would show up to work occassionally

But their blood was thick.

We never made fun of Billy.

Billy was just a sad case

But Bob would curse him out when he didn’t show up.

Often I’d see Billy in the streets

Totally shitfaced

Playing the buddy routine

Asking for money

Barely able to speak or stand.

Bob was a fat lazy slob

Who wouldn’t even wipe his own ass.

He sat in front of an off color tv

In his dingey basement apartment

Rolling joints

Or boogers around on his fingertips.

He would fall asleep right in front of people

Amongst the filth and debris.

He had been divorced for some years.

At the time I knew him

He was fucking this humongous white trash slut with bleached hair.

A real hog.

They would scream insults at each other often.

She kept working on me if I was around.

I stayed away as far as possible.

I’m sure Bob’s dead by now

And Billy

And the white trash slut.

I remember the tattoo

On Bob’s upper right arm.

It was written legibly.

“Born To Lose”.

Car Trouble

Tonight we stole cars.

It wasn’t my idea.

And I didn’t actually do it.

Chuckie did.

He had done it before.

I don’t even know why we did it.

For fun or the fact that we were all guaged out,

But here we were cruising through the city

In two cars that were not ours.

I was in the back seat of the car that Chuckie was driving.

There were four of us including him.

There were three in the other car in front of us.

Now you’d think that if you had just stolen a car

That you wouldn’t want to attract any attention,

Especially if your gilled on drugs and alcohol.

But Chuckie decided to ram the back of the other car.

We were driving down one of the avenues.

It was late at night, but it wasn’t exactly deserted.

Chuckie hit the back of the other car again, hard.

We were like “Oh shit!”, “What the fuck?!!”.

Now Chuckie was laughing.

He sped up to the left side of the other car.

The other driver was Tee and he had a big fuckin’ grin on his face

As he swerved his car to the left

And smashed into the right side of our car.

There was a collapsing crunch of metal

That came in through the windows on the passenger side.

The boys in the other car were laughing and screaming at us.

And so we roared down the avenue

Inflicting damage to each other’s cars

That weren’t ours.

Laughing hard.

Screaming insults at each other.

Encouraging Chuckie to “Hit ‘Em again!”, “Do some Damage to those MotherFuckers!”

Slapping him on the back after he made contact.

The bastards in the other car were doing the same thing.

The more the cars were damaged

The harder we laughed.

It was hysteria.

I remember at one point

Looking at the other junker and just thinking to myself

How ridiculous it looked.

Crumpled like a car in a demolition derby.

I have no idea how we made it as far as the piers

But we did.

Clean.

No cops.

It was a miracle.

We stood outside

Of the two trashed vehicles

Smoking cigarettes

Laughing and ribbing each others skills.

The adrenelin had made us even higher.

I broke the rear view mirror

Out of our car as a souvenir

Before we started pushing those cars

Down the pier.

We pushed hard

Racing each other to the water.

At the piers edge

We took turns dumping the cars into the black water.

First our car.

It took all of us

Because once the front wheels went off

The car’s frame got stuck on the wooden lip of the pier.

It dragged, scraping.

We pushed.

The car fell over the side and hit the water’s surface.

And then,

It was rather crazy.

We all thought that the car would just sink

But it just floated there.

We pushed in the second car on top of the first

With a loud crunch.

The first car went down

engine first

Slowly.

The second car

As the first

Bobbed on the glassy liquid surface

Until it too started to go down nose first.

I remember as I watched that trunk disappear

Into the harbor’s depths,

A sense of eeriness

In the absolute quiet around us.

No one spoke

So I sense that I wasn’t alone.

We watched foamy bubbles rise to the surface.

Quiet.

Absolute quiet.

Moments passed.

The group turned to walk home.

And we were silent.

It was a while before anyone spoke.

Epilogue:

I held onto that rearview mirror

For many years

As some sort of accomplishment.

It was the source of a good story.

But at some point

It became meaningless

And I threw it away.

My life had changed

And it became one of my dark secrets

Less and less revealed.

The silent image of the trunk of a car

Sliding down in the dark, dark water

Still haunts me to this day...

Jasper

Sometimes

You ask to sleep in my bed.

And other nights we might fall asleep

Reading a story together.

I remember when I used to carry you

Around with one arm

Until my arm felt like it would fall off.

Yet I would continue to hold you

Out of selfish pleasure.

And now your four foot white frame

Is sleeping twisted next to me

Dreaming boy dreams

Of superheroes, legos, pirates, bugs and dirt.

I put my arm around you and hold you.

I feel your bones rise and fall.

You are a beautiful boy.

I know our lives are different now.

I wonder how you must feel

Being a boy of few words.

But I want you to know...

And I promise you this:

My world to you is of pure love.

I will do anything for you,

To bring you peace and understanding

As our lives continue forward together.

My bed can be your cocoon

On nights like these.

You slumber tonight near an open window.

This beautiful night

Slips in with the breeze

And softly moves

Your long blonde hair.

Jennifer

Take me to that place

Within the deepness of your pillows

Loose from dreams

And the black silk of night

To hear the city and woods scream

Outside your window

Folly to the sweet breath

Passing hushed as a whisper through parted lips

Take me there

Where dark hair falls

Upon flawless skin

Bloomed with desire

Perfect and momentous

Twice a week

Sugared laughs and puppy antics

Are charmed displays of affection

And the rest of the week

I think of you...somewhere

Extraordinary green eyes

Take me there

Morning Love

Here I am

Fucking myself

As the early morning light stretches across my bed.

And fucking myself

Thinking about you

Is no simple jerk off.

I lay here writhing and squirming.

I need every nerve in my body to feel something.

My neck

My chest

My nipples and thighs.

My back

My ass

I dig my feet deep within the sheets

And stretch muscles taught.

I focus on my breathing.

I become intoxicated, high

As I fuck the furniture

And the rug

The wooden floor

The door to my closet

The metal of the bed.

The intensity reaches a fervor

And my climax builds.

Slowly.

I want it to last.

I want to feel.

And when it comes

And my eyes roll back in my head

And my belly is awash in warm love

And my body is shaking

And I’m falling back into the comfort of the sun drenched bed...

I realize how special you are

And that this could never be just a simple thing.

NY Thruway

I’m not gonna lie.

I missed not one

But two exits on the thruway

And I was an hour late.

I was wrapped up in your soft thighs and ankles,

Brown sculpted back and arms,

Long neck and throat.

The way that you tasted on the end of my tongue.

I thought about how you looked so beautiful

After so much time.

You were there today

The same person that I had wanted a long time ago.

Tanned and laughing as you threw

Weeds down my shirt.

We had lunch and talked and became familiar.

Maybe we were too beautiful

For that small waterfront

But I didn’t notice.

I was there for you. Completely.

When I missed the first exit

I thought about how I just wanted to turn the car around

And find you

To lay you down in the shade of a tree again

And do the things that we really wanted to do.

And as I drove past the second exit

I’m sure I was remembering how pretty your ass

Felt in my hands

As you were bending into your car

And I know now that

I must and will make this drive again.

Pornography

With all of our sexy talk

And dirty texts

And fearless lust

With all of our graphic innuendos

And potent metaphors

Steaming with pornography

It would only seem fitting and appropriate

That after a two hour drive

To a town that I have never been to

That as I go sit by myself by the waterfront

And wait for you

That among all of the boats

Bobbing in the marina

The first that I set my eyes on

Is named

“Take It Deeper”

The Moon Through A Telescope

You and I will sit on top of the grey moon

With an orange fire tickling

The underside of the black sky.

We’ll drink paisley wine from conch shells

And touch each other for the first time.

We will dance from steepletop to steepletop

The world over

While you hum your songs smiling.

Stars will sparkle.

We’ll dive for all of the gold in the warmest of Caribbean Seas

Never coming up for air.

We will make love

On an Indian Blanket

In the middle of the red prairie.

Jealous wolves will howl

In their wet dreams

And the prairie grass will sing us to sleep.

You and I will sit in a clawfoot bathtub together

Smoking cigars in a bubble bath

With the TV on

Pretending we are movie stars.

Once and for all we’ll prove, in fact

That the moon really is made of cheese.

Tim







What words are your eyes cast upon now?

Are they simple and pure like a child’s book?

Stuffed with complexity, fragrant of the Oxford Dictionary?

Are you discovering secrets in words even now...
Light as lyrics
Or falling leaves.
Casual as a stroll through filtered sun
With a good cup of coffee.

Or discriminating such as the adjectives used for a rare wine.

I am sure you are in awe
And wide eyed
At the beauty that surrounds you completely.

Wild Rose

Under the waning moon I stop.

The perfume of wild rose surrounds me

And I dream for a moment.

This scent must be every bit as intoxicating as you.

For ever since I have met you

I have stopped in my tracks

Unfolding inside

Consumed by the pleasure of what is you.

Honeysuckle

The honeysuckle is glowing

In the early dark of night.

It lines the complete length of the canal

Where I am walking my dogs.

The softly luminescent trumpet flowers

En masse

Between the abandoned railroad tracks

And the stone edge of the canal’s wall.

The odour of the honeysuckle

Fills me

Washing out the day

The boredom of work

The stress that is my life

The uncertainty of tomorrow.

It is all bathed away

By thousands of white and yellow florets

Singing.

On the walk back home

I see the shadow of my smallest dog

Go down to the ground

And start rolling and squirming.

I shout at him!

It can only mean one thing

And it ain’t good.

Believe me

I have experience with these two dogs.

He runs from me

And yet I know that it is true.

Inbetween the sweetness of the honeysuckle

I am reeled by the futid smell

Of shit.

On the way home

People tell me how cute

My dogs are.

I wait for them to catch a whiff

And see if they think that they are still so.

I arrive home

And immediately start a bath.

Clover and Jasper

Freak when they smell Elie.

The smell fills the house.

I throw the little bastard

Into the tub

And get in close so that I can wash him.

I am thankful that I won’t be

Doing this twice tonight...

Because that has happened!

And I have to wonder

As I wash this wretched shit

Out of Elie’s fur

What ludicrousy

Goes through a dogs mind

On a new summer eve

To make the decision

To roll around in a pile of shit

Instead of enjoying the surrounding

Warm scent of honeysuckle?