Criddler on the boof

The moon and the stars
Those distant howls from behind bars 

Subtle morning dew forming atop cars 

If you listen you can hear the city yawn 

The slow screech of the metro I travel 

Beneath as it gradually glides to a halt 

Sliding around corners with no fault

I was born into the night by sheer default

Brought up in the dark 

With an extra grain of salt 


1970 Dodge Coronet

Stuck in my thoughts, you’re in the middle of my crosswalk. You won’t move, but you’re not stayin’. In my lane I’m swervin’ to avoid this head on collision with German engineered machining and precision. The thought of you drives my pistons, warming them up for the long distance, getting it hot leaving nothing to chance. Right there between the lines under the red lights seeing if I’ll anticipate the drop of your dime, right there on your line, burning rubber waiting for your green. Light changes and the frame cringes with the force of this acceleration, fuel injectors pumping, combustion proceeds increasing the speeds. Then I look up, and you’re still right in front of me, all this effort and I’m yet to surpass thee. 


Something corny 

Makes me often feel horny

I got lost in your flurry

Taking clothes off in a hurry 

Don’t know where to go

But I know what I know 

You’re all I want to know

I can’t read enough 

Can’t get enough

Could write a billion pages 

Book reports and essays 

Maybe even a screen play 

I’ll forget what to say 

If I don’t write it down today 

In key strokes I can relay 

All things come to mind 

Effortlessly push rewind

On a piece of paper

Digital or in the real

My face transmits 

The stokes of the pen hit

Quick san cend dead mans 

Old wise guys 

Buried miles deep

I hear their questions in my sleep 

Do I slumber or 

Stop and take another number 

Cause I’ve got 




And more 

At my discount mattress store 

My answers get hairy 

And some guy shouts

You’re killing me Larry 




Don’t admit defeat 

Take a breather 

You’re light as a feather 

No matter whether 

Or not 

You’re touch runs hot

The slaughter

Somebody’s daughter 

Could make me into a father 

I fathom 

That my cannon 

Is much for you 

To imagine 

A weapon of mass creation 

Mutually assuring destruction 

Fire in every direction 

From what I’ve gathered 

I’ve got quite 

A selection

Of lines 

And rhymes 

To take up

My time

Is long

Which is why

I don’t