Sunday, March 1, 2015

Words are for Sleeping




Looks like an April road-trip-
Days-off  from work approved. Tattoo appointment in N.C. scheduled. Tickets for shows purchased.
It will be Lydia Loveless up in Asheville, NC. and on the way back home gonna catch
The Avett Brothers at the House of Blues in Orlando, Fl.  All the in between isn't worked out, like where to stay, hike, camp, cabin. Gotta leave somethings to chance. 

 -


It will soon be summer-
 The short lived cold spell is over down here- back to the Heat.
all the attitudes. the short fused tempers that make this place
just so special. .
clouds. clouds. rain.
Shiny condos sealed shut until next year.
beach cottages in Kool-Aid colors-
It leaves you,

sea shelled and boat dizzy,
the tourists pack up
to go home.



Saturday, February 21, 2015

There are no false prophets under the sea



and you were over here,
you were under me.
When my bed became
our church
as we ached for
salvation.
When words
poured down like rain
so thirsty
we 
drank from them 
so empty
we let them
drown
us. 

Sunday, February 8, 2015

What mistakes?


Whatever that is:

I want to come up there
kiss you on you your Mid-West
smart mouth
and have
winter sex with you.
 

Like a worn in t-shirt:

turned out my favorite
color
was you
and I keep wanting to wear
you
over and over.


Like a glove:

I know we fit.
doesn't matter im
so much - well, slightly older-
with sometimes scratchy beard

faded tattoos
mixed with the new
ones we collect
together.
like the bruises
 I give to you .
We have some kind of chemicals
or maybe its your ass
I just want to spank
and tell you
things, like how I fit into you.
and that we are drugs
and summer
and winter snow
and this sounds like bullshit
but its our
bullshit
it's our starry night
when all of sudden
all our nothings
become
something.

Sunday, February 1, 2015

One Fathom above Sea level


    Here is what happens-  The flu kicks my ass the last week of the new year. I lacked interest in writing,  jerking off, working out, scrolling and scrolling through your stuff to hopefully see that pic of you that turns me on- so, 
..all the things I normally love so much.
I miss Creeping her.

 But, like a good Sea-monster soldier. Like a vampire. I live again. I changed the names on my blogs out of being bored. Something nautical and that makes more sense to the direction of where I live and swim and breathe. I'm sick of being a fathom above sea-level. Its time to get back in the dirt. Underwater.

I filed my Taxes today- I decent return and all the money is going into Road-trips, adventures and tattoos.  This years philosophy is to stop buying things and start buying experiences. I have several ideas of where I want to go and a few Tattoo artists in each region. Just have to see how the timing of the bookings work in relation to where and when Ill be.    

Sunday, January 18, 2015

Shipwrecked Sailor


I'm a shipwrecked sailor on an island near the sea.
 
Randomness-
I'm not gonna say I was the first to appreciate a fine ASS. Big butts. But, have you seen my Flickr page? Do you not know that I started many years ago  perfecting the art of photographing  the mystery and curves of  the female butts? So much so, I think you should ask me over to take a picture of yours.

I'm a shipwrecked sailor
with bright tattoos
of places
ive never been
because im stuck here
like you.
I've been thinking of swimming
over
but the sharks
but the jellyfish
but the,
excuses
and rum. 
I'm building a boat. 
Ive survived on my thoughts of
her,
but over time they are fading.
i want something
real
the cannon fire
the smoke
and revery
I want the treasure
she's
hiding
draw me a map. X mark the spot.
I want to pillage and plunder
her body
and mind.