A real addict doesn’t say they are
Addicted to the drug, they say that
They are in love with the drug. That
If it were something they could slow dance
With, they would. That if it were a
Song they’d put it on repeat. That
If it were a job they’d be working over
Time. That if it were a hard math question
They’d be the only one in the classroom
That isn’t confused.
But the truth of the matter is :
You can’t slow dance with the needle
You can’t put powder on repeat
You can’t work overtime with the joint!

Having snow at Christmas time
is rare in this southern clime

Yet this morn brought dazzling white.
A blanket blunting all sharp edges
including those within my mind.

So I put my old boots on
and a well worn camo coat
to hunt deer in this rare weather
(at least that's the excuse I used)

It being a wet snow
each step brought a loud crunch
sometimes startling a thrush.
Not much chance to see a deer
but on I went.

I heard the world's loudest fart today
It echoed round the town enough to say
"I am a fart of great renown and fame,
I am a fart who's worthy of the name
Of KING of FARTS!" Unthinkingly I sniffed
And, let me tell you, I have never whiffed
Aught so potent, dank and dread and foul
Blasted out from heaving human bowel
As that king of farts I smelled today
And which took my fucking breath away.

under virgin white aprons and forget-me-not dresses
bloomers beneath the knees
raggedy anns all hide their hearts
while some little girl holds them tight at night
in the absence of light, safe and secure
unaffected courageous little stuffed dolls
same appearance in shape and form
your mistresses sit you in the exact same place
in the morning, alone, while the day goes by
and then hold you safe in the darkness again
sleeping with you in the closet

Millions of miles across the Negro rivers
to a place where the carrot eye is roasted
with a metal cross on our neck
and a grey bracelet on our feet

The long edged iron
Screwed on our memory
a blessing of missiles
and pots for cooking our brothers
which our hands finds delight at doing

The bombs fell down on Dresden
And so many other annihilated German cities:
Hamburg and Kiel and Pforzheim...
I could go on and on...
Hundreds of thousands died
In agony and terror and fire-bomb flames;
Burnt to a crisp, fried in their own fat.

No new bees ever bother about history
Times and Circumstances change

even now genes intermix
travel all over the world quickly
and
seed anyone you please
a newer kind of progeny

and

Wow the Environment is also quickly changing
all have to bear in mind
we are every year born
as a species of a different kind
must I this all world remind

suitable answers to present questions
each one of his own has to find

even you
O Lords and Poets
do listen kindly
this is really true

Why will you not speak?
Do I terrify?
Is honesty a scare,
For you young one?

Tip toe around, bounce,
She is coming.
My head is held under.
I taste the salt, the pearls

That grow on my skin.
Pain is all over,
All within.
Run for cover -
She is set to land.

Look in my eyes,
What do you see?
Egg shells perhaps,
She has cracked me,
Not only here,
But turning back,
The hands that define now,
Will guide you and show
She has held me too long.

I recall the early miles
walking in Mississippi lowland clay,
all the loved ones' laughs and smiles.
All sight of mountains far away.

Then the pathway became sand
where breakers mixed with the gulls' cry
still far away were mountains grand
reaching almost to the sky.

And the years and miles passed on
till all my trails turned rusty red
while so many folk I'd depended on
finally slept in their last bed.