We’re All The Villains

We’re all the villains
Each & every citizen with a vote
We’ve allowed our nation to dwindle
Expecting democracy to survive by rote
But we can still change out the actors
Hope in action is exactly what we need to do
Purge the Capital of all the politicians
I declare we need Capra’s Washingtonian view

I’m Not Anywhere Near Perfect

I’m not anywhere near perfect
Contrary to your fictitious notions
Examining me through a skewed lens
Though I’ve been cleansed by the ocean
I’m not what you think you want
Flawed in all the wrong places
Underlining fragility & a fractured soul
But you’re still focused on the pretty faces
I can’t explain all the improper deviations
I’m not what you’ve wished you might discover
You’ve transcribed me into a possibility
But I’m already tethered to my perpetual lover
Don’t sacrifice your dreams
For what probably won’t ever be
Hold tight to your illusions
For only then can life set you free

Searching Cavernous Souls

Searching cavernous souls
Racking what I might believe
Splitting hairs of fragrant
Ideas wandering down my sleeve
But I’m not more righteous
Than the boys down on the beat
I’m flawed, sensitive – prone to anger
Stuck in a commuting rut; weakly on repeat
There’s quiet secret I might contain
Love & passion bubbling just beneath my skin
I think in poetry, but you desire a hero
Can’t compete with expectations; our mutual chagrin

Most Guys

Most guys

Will tell as many lies

As it takes to get between your thighs

But that’s not my goal

I’m just trying to find something to fill this hole

That has been left in my soul

*this is one of the first poems I can remember writing. I believe it goes back to ’94 or ’95.

4 Years

It’s been 4 years with this incarnation of the blog, maybe 6 years here total. Thank you to anyone who has ever stopped by to read my words. Thank you to everyone who has left a comment. I love you all!

 

Waking Early Before The Morning



Waking early before the morning
Monitoring the world, as I sip my achromatic brew
The front window, my porthole to the world
From this security, I decipher what is true
I try to formulate tangible creations
Converting inspiration into mere words
Observations from my suburban perch
Sharing stories with Poe’s bleak-hued bird
Writing down the secrets she might share
Enlivening my dreams on this quiet block
Churning thoughts into hopeful spools
In which might allow my mind to dynamically unlock

I Know I’m High Maintenance

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I know I’m high maintenance
Requiring a lot of attention, affection & affirmation
But I return it all with utmost devotion
Drowning out apathy’s lazy fulminations

Not one to be quiet & demure
She’s the lady I can’t refuse
Always tempted by her presence
Banners at the ready; sing out the news

I contain a physical style of love
Many out there don’t like my PDA
Wishin’ I’d be more subtle
But I’m blessing her with this passionate bouquet

 

 

 

Image by Vitabello from Pixabay