Shut-up and please 
			You're a slut 
		  You're a junkie bitch 
			You whore 
		Why do you lie to me 
		Poked and stroked raw 
		she screams for life 
			He can always satisfy 
			   or so one thinks 
		She won't stray too far 
		from that good time lay 
			She won't stray 
		   although she knows 
		She can not stay 
		Ten o'clock tolls and in they stroll 
			Another two hour roll in the hay 
			Tied to the bed her ankles bleed 

		Rope burns bonded hands 
	It's the twist into an epileptic nightmare 
		Eyes closed stream tear 
	  		past blue earlobe 
	    past the whispered words of love 
			I hate 
		I hate you 
		It's one more beer 
		    another last cigarette 
		end of an evening's lust 
	  It's that place to face one loved 
		someone so feared 
		     With a slap to the face and ass 
	she feels another night end with a Nazi thrash 
		Stroked and poked raw 
	    she screams 
			If this tragedy ends 
	there will be no security blanket near 

There are two methods I often use: stream of consciousness and the act of borrowing. Stream of consciousness begins as simplified thoughts taken to, but not always, realized refinement. The poem, PINK-ASS. TIGHT HOLE. (title pending), is a fine model of this method. It began as a class exercise, in which I interpreted the visions and thoughts in my mind, produced through listening to some jazz recordings. After letting words spill from my pencil, the lines written were put away and not looked at. A few days later I returned to the handwritten thoughts and typed them up, rearranging and correcting any spelling that needed to be done. Many of the thoughts remained the same as they appeared while others were jumbled about, but all the handwritten words remained in type, with the addition of a few more. Once again the piece was left to rest, then at a later date revision and editing took place, bring the poem to where it is at, at this time. Here is a portion of the original stream of consciousness and its revision, both of which found its place on the cutting room floor:

		charlie brown and dog lost where that damn food bowl 
	hey you gotta smoke for me promise won't kick that dog 
		when leaves fall orange and red 
	cover your head mama yells ass october mists orange 
		charlie brown and dog lost 

		dog lost where that damn food bowl got kicked
	"Hey you got a smoke for me - promise won't kick ya 
		when you down and out 
		when leaves fall orange and red 
	cover your head remember mamma yelling as October mists 
		Charlie boy where's your dog