New Year’s Noir

He parked down the street, facing away from the house. He sat there all night, parked against the curb. He flicked the lid of the Zippo back and forth the entire time. He gave up smoking years ago, but he didn’t give up carrying the lighter. He never stopped playing with that lighter. In years past, the sound would have driven a partner crazy. He gave up on partners, too.

The night was a moonless disaster. He sat in that car, knowing he couldn’t see anything. He kept his eyes focused and ready on the off chance he was right. He didn’t know anymore. The Captain seemed to have more faith in him than he had confidence in himself. He did as he was told. That bit of trust between the men kept them both alive far longer than either were expected to live.

It was getting close to midnight and he began to feel a bit restless. He checked his mirrors and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The usual troublemakers were out setting off fireworks. There was nothing crazy, merely stuff on the line of bottle rockets and black cats. He knew he could have flashed his badge to scare them off, but he liked the idea of the distraction.

The house was dimly lit on the inside. There were no external lights. He carefully checked the side gate. It was unlocked. He smiled to himself. This might be easier than he thought. He made sure that his position was never given away in the light of the fireworks.

The lights were off and the shades drawn in the windows on the side of the house. He didn’t linger as he went around to the back of the house. The curtains were pulled back, allowing him to see into the living room and kitchen areas. There were no lights on, besides the glow of the TV. He paused, fading into the blackness of the night.

The only sounds continued to be the fireworks.

He walked up to the side of the sliding glass door, trying to keep most of his body out of view. The door was inexplicably unlocked. He was unsure of his good luck. He waited a few seconds after he cracked the door. He heard no alarms or beeps to be worried about.

There was only a few minutes now. Of course there was the possibility of a silent alarm. He knew he had to make things quick once he entered the house.

He didn’t see any movement inside. The slight audible sound of the TV was heard as soon as he stuck his head in. “It’s A Wonderful Life” was playing. He smiled. He always liked that movie. He wore an all black outfit. It was a cliche for a reason. His movements were slow and easy. He didn’t need any joints to pop or his shoes to squeak.

There was no evidence of anyone home. He made it to the hallway without hearing anything or seeing anything. His heart began to beat a little faster. He looked both ways and decided to go down the left hand side. That’s when he heard her for the first time.

“I thought you’d be coming for me.”

He froze. Blood left his face. Instinctively, he reached down to his sidearm.

“Don’t.”

“Okay.” He breathed deeply. “I’m not going to.” He raised his hands up to shoulder level with his fingers spread out wide.

“I’m guessing you thought all that noise would let you do this without attracting attention.” He didn’t betray any thoughts. His face remained trained on hers. “Well, I’m counting on the same thing.” He never heard the shot and neither did the neighbors.

Textured Mornings

Textured mornings
Sitting around waiting on the French press
Remnants of dreams & pleas
Filtered through a truncated dress
Beneath lies details
Of scattered lace & bows
But in the end, emotion far outweighs my prose

Seeking Out Freedoms

Seeking out the freedoms

But where is the wisdom our follies have made

Washed away with the retreating tides

Now we bask out in the cover of foliage’s shade

I’m sure nature leads us to the answer

The tempted isolation of introverts

The paused legacy of our discontent

Posterity gently tugging at her miniskirt

Tilted scales of Justice – with her hem unraveling

The overture that rises where prudence fails

Our overwrought, sparse conjecture

& leaves us at the darker side of the fairytale

Our Nakedness Is Best

Our nakedness is best

Embracing the natural glory of bridal lust

Silken sheets draped over vulnerable flesh

Nothing more generous than her copious bust

Searching for each other in the dark

Feeling the nerves of the unnamed

Blamed for objectification of beauty

Obscured by passion of the untamed

Invoking the obstacle to love

Falling voiceless midstream

Our consensual fantasies

Not a normal woman, yet a rare dream

Let me compose my magnum opus

Moans & silences are highly deductive

We cling to each other forever

Yet the eye contact is steadily seductive

Perfect tendencies as I slowly caress

Knowing the words to make you blush

Grand moments of our unrestrained union

Grateful you’re still my soul-revealing crush

Ill Reputed Minstrel & Her Fancy Dolls

Ill reputed minstrel & her fancy dolls
Forever punished for my dated sin
A hushed wish for something more
Images of the whiteness of porcelain
Do not lead me through vacant doors
No need to become another mistake
Removed from that dreadful life
Sparing additional pain for her own sake
Dancing lightly in the darkness
Admiring her spinning gown
Incapable of resisting delicate charms
Would do anything to replace that frown

Faith In A Baby Child

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I put my faith in a baby child
& He will lead me
I will follow in His path
Being shown what I need to see
I give Him my whole life
I will seek His truth
In my soul He does dwell
Guiding me through days of youth
His love will lift me up
Through the life He gave
I have faith in my Lord
& I know that i am saved

Evading Their Ongoing Tragedies

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Evading their ongoing tragedies
Forty summers spent down in the dirt
Withstanding the weight of apocalypse
Emerging; though slightly less overt
Blast furnace of the afternoon sun
Dali walking barefoot on Tampa’s shores
Pale riders within unabsorbed light
Embracing purity through perception’s doors
The paint of our secret love notes
But can only be read through the keyhole
Shying away from all public renditions
Her passionate words left imprinted on my soul

Sheets & Reams Of The Nonsensical

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Sheets & reams of the nonsensical
Literary blood lost in the shadow of ink
The lifeforce of a simmering soul
Marginal hearts writing love against the kitchen sink
Leaving behind the caricature of an artist
Contributions to society felt in these empty sheets
Fingersmudges marking pages not so white
Starkly exposed with revolutionary words in the streets
Traces of hereditary ideals eroding away
Igniting pages shall still be a stilted sin
Yet we rise again from our desert floor
Eternally grateful our finite letters aren’t porcelain

Saddle Up To The Counter

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Saddle up to the counter
Anxiety requiring a shot or two
Feeling warmth of liquid bliss
Slowly beginning to feel like you
Tension of these recent events
But knowing he’s always on your side
Methodically flirting for good measure
You’re aglow; his fair-haired bride
Hand in hand to go dance in the rain
Never letting storms dampen your night
Electric kisses & a dress clinging as it drips
It’s perfectly transparent; albeit no longer virginal white

Civil Disobedience

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Civil disobedience
Marching against their sullen grain
Public executions of our citizens
The ones whom systematically resemble our pain

Exhibitions of our worst character traits
The trembling hands with transcribed blood
Outside of the panoramic eye
Yet all the same, caught in the seismic flood

A taciturn refusal to simply exist
Check your feed for what revolutionaries say
Bold proclamations & campaign slogans
But eventually the media hype fades away

Some other crime or scandal to catch your eye
Lights, cameras & we all return to normal instead
Forgetting those who can’t whore for Zuckerberg
But the people still live with a price on their head

Trying To Overcome An Existential Crisis

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Trying to overcome an existential crisis
Harking back to those foundational years
Emerging out of my own wounded shadow
Striving headlong into those ancient fears
Transitionally limping along these days
But my injuries aren’t those to be seen
Nor the stretch marks upon my soul
Yearning for the notion of becoming clean
Throughout it all, forever fond of the Blonde
Woman, hold me close to your breast
Tell me this life is going to be all right
That together, entangled; we’ll always be blessed

The Twinkling Of Stars At Night

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The twinkling of stars at night
Dispatched souls with nothing to lose
Our lost matchbook fantasies
Dwindling into aging suburban blues
Not fond of Covid nor the Spanish Flu
I’d rather have some Spanish Fly
Mix it in my cup, “yo baby, what’s up?”
I’m still that awkward ass, abnormative guy
Fading time to time into darkness
But I try to emerge into the light these days
A bounce in my step/mischief in my eye
Growing younger in spirit despite all these grays

Unplugging From The Mainframe

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Unplugging from the mainframe
Remaining forever off the grid
Don’t need their connections
Don’t know if we ever truly did

The final tragic hero of a modern culture
The soul survivor of a discarded revolution
Histories & experience outside the norm
Dreams of freedom with divine attribution

Dealing with the conceits of perfection
The concepts of loneliness & betrayal
This world isn’t what we were promised
Token hints lost behind a fractured veil

The answers are hidden beyond this life
It may look bleak, but don’t you fret
We have the Source of Light
& they’re still riding that ol’ dialup internet

Finding The Sunshine

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Finding the sunshine
Feeling the glorious heat
Remembering the time
Our lonely lips did meet
Saving me from despair
A slow march to the sea
Loosening of our tongues
Another chance to be free
Getting our bodies outside
A good stretch in open air
I love your everything, but
You’re best when you’re bare

Lost In A Deteriorating Moment

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Lost in a deteriorating moment
What more can we do to be free
Close our eyes to the darkness
Tiptoeing quietly, down to the sea
Searching franticly for the answer
But the obvious truth is often a ghost
False memories are unruly traipses
Inclinations leading me, down the coast
Is there a way to be clean again
To bathe in the ocean’s gentle roar
Hope against hope; possibly a way
To find sunshine that might restore

I’m Seeking A Truth

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I’m seeking a truth within these fragmented words

My thoughts won’t cooperate with how my fingers move

Typing on this old handmedown machine to transform

My mundane existence into a magical, deliberate groove

I am not afraid to expose the flesh of a wilted soul

There are no heroes in these parts, just broken misanthropes

Internalizing the segmented society & all the villains

Returning to coffee so black the void regains precious hope

Those Matchbox Fantasies

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Those matchbox fantasies
Gunmetal grey panties with soft pink polka dots
She placed a stiletto on her wooden leg
Character assassination plots go all for naught
Unassuming by way of distraction
She’s hiding a switchblade under that dress
She’s dangerous down to her core
A beautiful woman – you don’t want to mess
Beware of their corrosive accolades
There’s no exoneration in the line of fire
She’s insolent about your theoretical love
In the end, she’s killed you with her underwire

I Trace Your Lips

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I trace your lips with my finger
Such pouty perfection in this face
I want to devour you right here
But in public is not the proper place
So I whisper one word: “tonight”
& let you think upon that all day
You’ll stew & simmer & imagine
How all this love will be conveyed