rain drops down the glass,
slide slowly to a slip stream,
in wind furrowed tracks

and don't forget poor
marvin, who's only sin was
to see life as it

is, people are ones
not to appreciate such
robots with brains the

size of a planet
but want that piece of paper
picked up, appliance

like that wave logo
here, killed thousands in thailand
in tsunami form

yet, we ride them on
boards, catch a wave and feel the
surge of life itself...

life as it is makes
life as it should be seem small
in comparison

when i am through shall
you offer your necks to me
or shall I to you?

shall you bite or shall
I tear or decline the id's
lust for life and death

I suppose to make
the right decisions clarity
is not beyond good,

or for that matter
the black wolf in my heart still
barks at some blood moon

shall I outdo the
marquis de sade in my anger
cornered, vile, embraced...

shall I be your new
charlie manson, anti-christ
or just a mild man

at times i wonder
why the bored are so inclined
to out and destroy...

a clockwork orange
are they, shall we break these toys
and snap their gears, watch

them twitch as the child
machines mimic nothing human
and flee as toys

in the end I think
there's some closure, the old man
told me about reiki

as he coughed sadly
about christ's evil, and showed
his dowsing necklace...

so much like little
gerald gardner did he seem
lost in his own myths...

I am tempted to
say revenge sometimes feeds my
own soul to keep on...

all gone to tumor
and in a heartbeat, newly
independent, loose

cast adrift and made
to see where they stood when you
were just in your crib...

a baby again, lost to
raise one's self, new orphans in
the city on a hill

grief gives way to grief
then to memory, past joys and
hurts, pictures, balloons...

the grill, the walks, the
shared moments of argument
and of keen advice

our loved ones die and
leave us naked to social
weather storms, flash floods

but when life has a
clear meaning, or empathy
that I hope is best...

so that life goes on
as ugly as i get at times
tomorrow kicks my ass

i know that some like
to commit suicide and
some just hang around...

I feel like most folks
hide behind a mask, and buy
into a costume play

I too wear a mask
with my own role, own lines and
my curtain call signs

I was fixing some
damage to my car today
but bad comes from good...

sometimes

beer makes us happy
burgers barely edible
The Waterfront sucks

idle by the grass
wishing the lawn is emo
so it cuts itself

black bird on a branch,
whistles from the man below -
yellow beak replies

black bird in the trees,
man whistles from garden below -
a chorus ensues

Emotions form words
Amazingly powerful
Words form emotions

or some homily
polluting yankee stadium,
cat in a whack hat

otherwise chaos
prevailing in shitty prose
or hostile blank verse

pontifications
whether bad, coarse or sublime
must have some limit

recent trend in form
refreshing restoration
vive le true haiku

all this media
and to think all we had were
tall tales at one time

paging mr. bunyan...
one blue ox, mr. bunyan
your lights are on

Laying in a warm bed
Sounds of Tango and breakfast
Drifts from the kitchen

Right now life is good
Precious moments in our lives
Loves tender moments

Hold what's beautiful
Through our fingers like whit sand
Life slips unnoticed

party at zulu's
roll you in cocaine, fat boy
to find your butthole

judas preist or
frank sinatra, who did it
their way? taste is choice

what city is it
that shines on a hill for you
troubador singer...

La Cumparsita
surely most beautiful song
Sung for a city

social cohesion
can be good or bad, one love
freedom or power?

jack bauer rescues
from scene to scene like magic
avoiding traffic

Glowing serenely
Gold dandelion flower
Gift from the brown earth

sweet afternoon treat
wish i had someone to share
i'de give my last bite

misread intentions
doubt shades end of bright friendship
whispers the nightlife

bukowski said his
writing was a sickness well
make mine terminal

my haiku disease
more chronic than chronicle
take my words for that

springs light rain,
clings gently to a branch -
green, green, meadow

he drops the bottle
time to kneel at the altar
his porcelain god

Tell, what's in a name?
For myself I use many
For my Haiku works

i find fantasy
in the one I cannot see
a beautiful lay

we will never meet
too far away out of reach
only his soul touched......

he plays silly games
yet all are gentle and sweet
he is an artist

my steps are careful
because I love him so much
I have not seen him

the sky is falling
i saw cupid hit the ground arrow in his heart

Golden ray, dripping
Upon the silent meadow;
The grass whispers joy.

Pearl light, on sea-shore,
Shimmers with joy, a cold night,
Morning in my heart.