This is How I Roll

It is hot and I am tired

but still wired from what

was done to me audibly just now

when doors close, gates open

and I never expected the kind

that present themselves to me

this time

and I am longing, longing to be

free of this place so that I can

go there physically man, and

go through those gates with

my tongue, and I really don't mind

the chaos and loss so much

anymore, and I just want to

kick down doors and break free

of what this lack of life has

done to me and learn to rock

and roll again my friend. I just want

to kick ass and take names

without shame, and write late

into the night without trying

to worry about that alarm clock

and I want to get my cock sucked

and drink in bars, with movie

stars and find a place to go that

is not too hot or too cold

and teach others how to reach

for the stars because this ordinary

life is being behind bars and I

have tried for years to be like them

like you and I don't want to do it

anymore, I want to fuck on the floor

in the kitchen, after a pudding fight

and burn bright and fry in the sun

and run faster than the light

catch me if you can, but I have

become the gingerbread man

and I'm quick and cool going

back to the old school these days

so lead. Follow. Or, get the fuck

out of my way 'cause I'll run you down

on my way out of this town even

though I'll miss the ducks, and the

sound of falling water in the morning

I don't give a fuck anymore...it is time

my friends, to say goodbye to the

family, the house and these guys

so I'm gone to get it on like old

King Kong, and this is how I roll..  

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James D. Dyer

The Cup and the Well

I fill the cups of others indeed

from a deep well inside me that

is never empty for long, and I

often drank from such cups both

metaphorically and actually, but

it has been too long too long since

I had a chalice worthy of spilling over,

and over, and so I seek the goddess

where I may in the spring of the year,

for the well is full to overflowing with

clear spring water, and is soaking the

ground around it and I cry in the wilderness

under the triple moon and wear the horns of

Cerrenos as I dance by the well under the stars

that are her children to the drums and pipes of

people long dead and I crave the blessing of

the mother and the maid and

even the lady of ravens though she fills me

with dread and echoing silences of the slain

off to the Summerlands again and the well

runs over the hill and streams down into

the valley in the ripe spring and nourishes

the moist earth that belongs to her, and I

sing of the hidden valleys and the ripe hills

and even the jagged mountains that are her

temper for I am the storm lord and I can still

her rages with that water as it runs down into

the deep valleys and nourishes her earth and

so the world is reborn through the rituals of

worship and endless rebirths of pleasure until

the world turns again and I die in the winter

again and am reborn in the spring of the year.

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