When I start to think
In haiku form and fashion~
Man, is stopping hard.
I want to keep on
Packaging my words to fit
Five seven five forms
But then the sillies
Start kicking in and I can’t
Not be a pervet
So I must give up
The illusion of respect
And drag you down with me
…………
Next time’s sexy time
Shout “Holy! It’s colossal!”
Make the man feel good.
As the dusk decends
I walk streets hoping to see
Sex through lit windows
It’s crazy how much
My fantasies constantly
Beg my attention
Sex is like pizza?
Even if it’s bad it’s good?
Not down with frozen.
He grabbed my tit like
Trying to pop the brain out
A baby bunny ):
Capable I am
As well at reigning it in
And writing soft-core
…………..
Is there a better
Smell than dried eucalyptus?
Daphne in the spring?
When the petals fall
On my head and in my hair
That’s where I want them.
The common cricket
Rivals refrigerator’s
High, resonant sound.
When I hear sitars
I am just like Pavlov’s dogs.
Hungry! For curry.
Sometimes I wonder.
And it gets the best of me.
Presence. It’s a gift.
True art never sleeps
Continuum unperturbed.
There is no shelf life.
One day I’ll travel
The world in the name of sweet
Poetry. Just wait.
Getting off the plane
Walking down the hall to you
Standing with flowers
I can hear the guy
On the wall’s other side of
My condo farting.
Pigeon Heart Ponderings 