out of the ring

those hands punched me
knocked the wind out of me,
reflecting what is ugly
my flat face,
i wondered if anybody
had beaten them,
corroding life
with the spit of minutes
splashing on my face
no shadows
as i grunted
accepting what passes,
age no longer a pleasure
but a cruel joke
i wore the bruises
clotted flesh no longer taut,
another whiskey
salute that clock,
wood rimmed containing
the mechanism
that makes time work,
what a load of crap,
i close my eyes
and my own minutes passed
i would not be reliant on it

Palace of the Neon Stars

white leather jeans shirt forgotten

crushed joint spark


close to oak tree/

picked up Harley Sprint kicked alive

the virtue of engine noise

as grass gave way to blacktop,

wind swallowed hair flowed out,

riding unicorns to the resting place

of yesterday


time bends/

literate words come into mind

long weaver woven sentences

to use

as he sought her out

princess of diamonds and pearls

her rooms would be richly furnished


ditch the bike/

clatter of steel

engine splutters into silence,

a burden tugged

hooked on his heart,

emotions break was a wild sea

worrying the conscious


diminishing light/

as sun dropped over rooftops

he still searched out the place

The Palace

run down building anointed by graffiti

fractured bricks

rolled  shutter windows


snap fingers/

make a wish

saxophone played long drawn notes,

that filtered like nicotine

into his veins

thickening, hardening

flesh pricked cold


darkness calls/

not drunk stumbled over steps,

trash septic festering

litter of abused society,

excrement and needles

vibration of notes

lingered in guts and loins


stage lit/

by pigeon broken holes

and the princess was there

moving sensual in a half light

full link to reality

saxophone to lips

blonde soul hair,

righting a stool

looked over


an enhancement to his retina

delft blue panties

bare breasts full as a coming moon

nature to his root

he found the princess of his Palace

the reason of future

blueprint of his plans




Stand Up and Wanting

laughter detached from beauty

many faces appreciated,

her own humor made her belong

in this bar,

this night,

eighty five people with warm beer

saw her on the stage

not silent they talked,

she became part of their life,

jokes about mundanity,

the effectiveness of marriage,

up there she was not sorry,

a guitarist joined her sometimes,

whiskey added fire to the jokes

with political edge,

never a pawn

she had an opinion,

yet behind the facade of comic pride

she screamed,

her bust under black sequin bodice

grasped and strangled her heart,

unless she did something wrong

caught up their in the light

amp resounding her voice,

she would continue to the end

and after last light

clicked off,

would find her own sorrow and silence



Saxophone of The Blissful

smoky auburn hair,

eyes shallow closed,

music permeated

the atmosphere,

drawn by the

colluding sound

of a saxophone,

dew down cleavage,

exalted breathing

a rapture,

unraveled my conscious

guiding me to