A Gleam In Your Eye

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A gleam in your eye
Like we’re getting away with it
A quiet moment for ourselves
Not exactly what you expected

A touch more intense than you’re used to

But I only know how to kiss deeply
I’m trying to reach your soul
& feel every heartbeat

Good Morning

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Good morning
Light stretching & taking hold
Too long under these covers
Happenchance favors the bold

Time to spread these sea legs
Arching my back & flexing my arms
It feels good to still be alive
We’ve shuttered close, yet escaped any harm

We Used To Know The Truth

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We used to know the truth
The fundamentals of our lives
Misplaced inspiration in youth
We, the lost children, who survived

Abandoned by artists searching for gold
Forgetting the dream of accepting yourself
Never admitting we’ve grown this old
Rejection of impending imperial wealth

Fuck your republicans & democrats
Those who sold the vision with betrayal
Insensitive bastards of a Cheshire Cat
Unsteady appeasement & divided we fail

I’ll Allow You Space To Grow Older Gracefully

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I’ll allow you space to grow older gracefully
You are free to live however feels just right
I’m not one to interfere nor infringe
Just remember me before you blow out the lights

Let us not count, pluck nor dye the grey hairs
I’m going to love you long after life permits
Our souls commingling in the afterlife
With all that said, I’ll still think you have great tits

Just A Guy With A Pen

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I’m not an artist, just a guy with a pen
Upon a lonely night, I started to write
I jotted down some rhymes for me
Teen angst channeled into the light

I’ve never looked back to think
I just keep writing over the decades
I don’t edit my feelings nor judge you
Purely an attempt for the soul not to fade

Love Letters To Myself

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Love letters to myself
A hug written upon a notecard
Scribbles for no one else
Sometimes life is just too hard

Taking moment away from the herd
Break off from all that I know
Losing myself in nature’s glory
Words can slow the overflow

Breathe – just letting it happen
Soon, I’ll be able to take some more
Reflecting my small truths
It’s easier to recover upon the shore

You Might Find Me Boorish

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You might find me boorish
A buffoon with sensibilities from another age
An undereducated hack with perverse interests
Jotting down any ol’ thought on the page

I can be oblivious, sullen & exhausting
Rarely the life of the party, it’s true
You might find me infuriating
But I assure you, my wife does too

20 Years Later

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20 years later
I’m still chasing her around the bedroom
My lovely wife; thrice creator of life
Forever trying to uphold the vows of the groom

Time doesn’t stand a chance
Against the perpetual tide of my devotion
More in love with her every day
You know what they say about the laws of motion

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

You Can Keep Your Digital Playgrounds

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You can keep your digital playgrounds
I care not for a Kindle nor a Nook
There’s no time for your technology
At the end of the day, just give me a book

The old fashioned kind, maybe a paperback
Anything without a power source
I don’t need your highbrow radiation
I’ll stick with tangible pages of course

I may hail from generations past
Perhaps I’m boorish, perhaps I’m a lout
But I’m pretty damn basic when the day is done
I’ll still have my pages when the lights go out

The Darkness Has Not Lifted

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The darkness has not lifted
But the voices are getting mean
A subtle slippage in the light
I’m going to need more caffeine

Perhaps some fresh air to heal
When the dreaming has soured
I spy the image in a night shift
The lone lady out at this hour

The gloom begins to recede
With this sweet widow on the block
My heart in rhythm with her words
As the gentle hands on the clock

Offering Up A Minimalism

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Offering up a minimalism
Finding cool without effort
Not weak enough to share
Tough; never going to revert

A mental state removed
Not allowing for them to kill
My soul still beating today
The essence won’t be distilled

Try as you forever might
I won’t be boiled down to a word
No single thought or character
All my expressions slowly heard

Taking The Time To Toe The Line

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Taking the time to toe the line
Avoiding the demands of unforgiving eyes
Inventing excuses & repeating “everything’s fine”
Society’s broken where truth are all lies

Hope is now measured in slant angles & slopes
Our manufactured social media is a bust
Force fed algorithms & prickly tropes
From Camelot to dystopia when there’s no one to trust

Gather Around Children

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Gather around children
It’s time to listen to a tale
Of mean-spirited politicians
& how they’re trying to make society fail

Never trust those your parents elected
They’re out here banning books for kicks
Aggressively stupid speeches at rallies
While demonstrating fascist parlor tricks

Be careful to watch your language
Lest you offend an old white man
Your school libraries might be empty
But I’ll share all the books they ban

Intense.

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Intense.
Uncontrollably shake your foot
Another morning wide awake
Experience as black as soot

We can only be who we are
No sense living in the past tense
These are the ramifications
Blinded to your own suspense

I know who we once were
Though they are now gone
Not victim to anything
Excuses made you the pawn

Shed these moments of hate
Bringing you down another level
Dreams of agony by default
Embraced, but slightly disheveled

Regroup at the breakfast table
Another chance to forever adjust
Calming thoughts to carry through
After all, we’re merely cosmic dust

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

There Are Answers In The Words

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There are answers in the words
Take time to look between the manual scrawl
Feel your body physically push ideas
Deliberate reflection of perfection before the Fall

Hypnotized by the handwritten thought
The slow meditation; pen gripped without pain
Effortless release of mental blocks
To be proud of these scars, but they’re mere ink stains

Opposing Dialects Of The Same Depression

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Opposing dialects of the same depression
Feeling callow when we don’t commiserate
Paperback blues of a notorious sort
You got paid, but that won’t always encapsulate

Strike out to find something foundational
Charms of something more eternal than gold
Words are hollow if not properly digested
Cling to this disjointed life, if you be so bold

The Infinity Of Love

The infinity of love
The entirety of a single breath
Odd footnotes to a shapely evening
After kissing the feet of Sister MaryBeth
The important ones are those you forgot
Distant notes too unbelievable to remember
But there’s a gravity to these infatuations
Still wearing Fair Isle, though it no longer December
Our dreams aren’t always tangible by birth
Effort & perseverance required, but you can’t relate
You won’t know it, but it’s worth the heartache
We’re doomed to live our days as humans & it’s called fate

Delayed Motion Of Her Hand

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Delayed motion of her hand
Lost in thought; unable to translate
The slippery notion of time
Within the energy of a tangible fate

Let us remain discrete in our words
She tries to focus as I obnoxiously flirt
Concentrating on writing proper forms
Caught her unaware as I reached up her skirt

Our Solemn Tales Of Passion & Woe

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Our solemn tales of passion & woe
My life is to slyly denote
Vigor sizzles quietly away
We try any which way but by rote

Always there to circumvent
Employing a nudist typist
But you get the gist eventually
You know, he was there to assist

You rushed out of my life & into the library
I still lust for you in that black dress
Never ashamed of how I feel
Surprised you expected any less

Shipwrecked.

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Shipwrecked.
Isolated on foreign shores since then
Surrounded by predators
Judgement & leers by creepy men
Can only do her best to survive
Keeping quiet in their midst
Don’t want to provoke the beast
Won’t fade to obscurity she insists
It’s complicated to remain equal
These days one must be agile
She keeps them at bay with a grin
While remaining firm but not fragile

Life Should Have More Dancing

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Life should have more dancing
More twirls, laughs, dips, lifts & general glee
We can make anything happen
Once she comes home with me


A dream can be a reality if she believes
I know the passionate way I would hold her
My own heart pumping infinite love
Visions of slipping that dress off her shoulders


I wish to caress her by candlelight
Looking into my eyes, asking for more
Whispering all the things she wants
Dancing close until our bodies are sore

Forevermore Villanelle

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It’s not too much to ask for
Cold chilling to our bones
When we’re together forevermore

Wrap yourself tightly, I implore
Through love, we must atone
It’s not too much to ask for

Briskness recalls days of yore
Nostalgia to which we’re prone
When we’re together forevermore

Battered ships upon the same shore
Knowing we’re never alone
It’s not too much to ask for

Feeling the true price of this war
Pages of guilt written in stone
When we’re together forevermore

Tossed in the bottom drawer
Realities remaining unknown
It’s not too much to ask for
When we’re together forevermore

Standing Wobbly-Legged

 

Standing wobbly-legged
Spread stance, with a mock salute
Whispering; describing her desires
Soon, I hope she won’t be so mute

Passion of an fantastical nature
Possibly seeming like it’s unreal
Motioning me to come forth
Promises of a love I can feel

Building to a palpable potency
A tangible form of bemused intrigue
Charmed to dizzying arousal
Winding to a whirlwind fatigue

With which note to thoroughly enchant
Steps so sure that time cannot lapse
A smirk; mouthing words to erupt
But knowing I’ll finally leave her unclasped

I Want To Write

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I want to write
But I don’t have the words
So I watch the ink seep silently
I know you’re thinking I’m absurd

So many empty notebooks
To fill with small little doodles & swirls
Intimidated by the stark whiteness
I don’t know how to create lasting worlds

Pondering & delving into thought
Present in my feelings with offerings to burn
Slowly churning my fickle imagination
In the hopes a bit of creativity might return

Sitting Here Dissenting All Forms Of Gov’t

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Sitting here dissenting all forms of gov’t
Looking for answers in these coffee grounds
Uncovering more & more hatred, with less hope
These political ovations do nothing but compound


Society has gone astray, Jesus take the wheel
We’re all being watched by a perched black bird
Incoherent shrieks & mumbles of “Nevermore”
Universities stacked with all the quotes they misheard


Where are the heroes to protect democracy of the republic
In the wake of fraudulent saints & a presidential pretender
We must devise a prophecy to overtake our future
Lady Liberty’s hem is ablaze; with no elder statesmen to defend her


We’re led by fools, fractures & frauds
Finding ourselves at crossroads armed like Checkpoint Charlie
History won’t be kind to the weak or evil all the same
Needing a guardian like Justice Ginsburg on a Harley

I’m raising a small army of Lost Girls
Feminist soldiers marching – in all but the name
Seeking love, peace & equality for all the people
Hindering harmony will leave you squarely to blame


We all have our differing loyalties
But truth will prevail when time comes to an end
Our trials will be but mere footnotes to antiquity
Faceless angels guiding youth; they shall forever be a friend

Feigning The Glamorous Life

Feigning the glamorous life

Proof of the shiny being a mirage

Charlatan; promising a false idol

Arbiter of a fictional montage

The veil covering honest intentions

Quiet manipulation of time

Epiphanies with truth in reality

But I now know, I’d rather be in the grime

Awake Early In The Naked, Teal Morning

Awake early in the naked, teal morning
Still wet from dancing in the rain
My subconscious kissing her femininity
But the memories remain love-stained

Her fingers gripping my shoulders
Our souls constantly trying to absorb
Soft, low moans quietly evident
I’m enchanted by her fleshy orbs

We’re exposed in the light of dawn
A realness that won’t be concealed
We have a glow of our own
No words exist, but a truth she can feel

Watching The Condensation Seep Into The Desk

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Watching the condensation seep into the desk
I think of the glories that have gone away
The ice melting/mixing into my single malt
I’ve been nervous, but I’m okay by the end of the day

These days weren’t the ones we’ve been dreaming of
Idealistic thoughts when we were on foreign shores
Imagining celebrities dancing in their formalwear
Fancy & festive role models displayed forevermore

Upon the big screen & locked into our minds
Americana lost & the golden age of Hollywood
Stoking the passion of our fervid imaginations
Inspiring our dreams like nothing else ever could

Our hopes & desires abandoned & hung out to dry
March realizations our fantasies are mere celluloid
The cold night, withering on the streets alone
Upon the credits, leaving the theater broke & into the void

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

Have We Forgotten That We’re A Rebellious People

Have we forgotten that we’re a rebellious people

Cashing checks under a drifter’s pseudonym

But together, we race across time, surviving

Embracing the unity of singing outlawed hymns

 

Lately, crying about a falsified history

Disillusioned, disappointed, disingenuous

I have no faith in movements and isms

They’re tinged with the superfluous

 

I believe in honor & service to the people

Treat each as an individual, never a group

Freedom & liberty distilled down to purest forms

Or else, we’ll see this hatred played out in an endless loop

 

 

*Here’s another older one that I think we could all use the message in these trying times.

Too Many Punks

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Too many punks
But only in the aesthetically pleasing sense
Bought their shirts at the 5 & Dime
Along with safety pins
& commercially foraged tattoos

(Can we discuss how punk’s not supposed to be safe?)

Where’s the independence?
Where’s the penchant to damn the man?

Find your sovereign spirit
For no one’s really punk
Until everyone thinks they’re uncool

She’s Alone

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She’s alone
In spite of all the adoring eyes
Propped firmly on the pedestal
A solitary witness when lust dies

She’s been up there in isolation
The heroine of the bell tower
A slight teeter in her stance
Still defying gravity on the hour

Her alabaster skin shines at night
A chance to quietly & decidedly atone
The decadence of her marble bust
Fingerprints on her heart of stone

Another teary-eyed princess
With a vintage, tarnished crown
Yet, I cannot stop worshipping her
For who’ll catch us, when we all fall down

But from this distance
I cannot properly love her

Lost In The Silhouette Of A Shadow

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Lost in the silhouette of a shadow
Emerging as the heat begins to recede
We cannot know what the day holds
Only the way our imagination feeds

Getting outside while the city still sleeps
Early, but I need to get air into these lungs
Darkness illuminates my quiet solitude
Exposing the songs we need to be sung

I feel lost & ineffectual most days
But I haven’t given up living yet
Stretching this old body once more
Finding answers once I’ve sweat

Too Many Loud Souls/When Silence Will Do

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Too many loud souls/When silence will do
Fools too busy collecting trophies & stickers
Not focused on truth of what matters
Sneaking glimpses of soul-revealing knickers

But they’re plastic; not of a proper diet
A mere aesthetic for the internet’s sake
The superficial appetites of modern times
I long for days when passions weren’t fake

Somewhere there is something incorruptible
Something pure that we might know
To purge our lives of superfluous antics
To feel a little more real & a little less faux

Collecting Fresh-Faced Girls With Monogrammed Asses

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Collecting fresh faced girls with monogrammed asses
Spending the morning listening to the Blues
An old soul within that youthful mindframe
Toe tapping, blackout shades & misleading tattoos


I begin to think I’m the one lured
But all we have between us is coffee stained mug rings
Embrace the possibilities of the moment
Join in the beauty of desperate sorrow of BB King


This day is such a sunny tease
Through passion, we become another bedpost notch
A memory Today will keep for all posterity
As she makes me taste the glories of her vagazzeled crotch

Sitting Above The Town

Sitting above the town
Talking low in the neon’s glow
Discussing romance & bathtub gin
We’re no experts, save what the shadows know

Rejecting chemical imbalance theories
Sunshine blocked out by the billboards
Late afternoon excursions to avoid reality
A gentle touch to escape the heinous hordes

But the truth cannot be forever skirted
Some days you must wake & simply endure
But the beauty of life will shine on though
With a taste of happiness that’s always pure

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

Let Us Bow Down Before Our Librarians

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Let us bow down before our librarians
Let us celebrate their beyond cliched looks
Allow us the freedom to think differently
These magnificent keepers of the books

I gave her an offering consisting of myself
Falling downward to worship such lovely stems
I slowly recited sonnet after steamy sonnet
I kissed her feet & wound up around her hem

The Magic Of The Holidays Still Gets To Me

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The magic of the Holidays still gets to me
You’ll find me wiping my tears with a sleeve
I’m not ashamed to outwardly proclaim it
I still believe

These days I walk the streets with childlike innocence
Searching for anything with the Christmas spirit
But I find most of the world has become Scrooge
A sad truth & many of you don’t wanna hear it

But I know we can be better than this
All of us can always return back here
To the love & magic of the Holidays
Let me be the first to pour you a cup of cheer

Riding Out These Rough Seas

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Riding out these rough seas
Trying to shield our shipwrecked daughters
Storms moving in on us rather quickly
Feeling Hell’s heat & it’s only getting hotter
From port to port, not knowing where to go
Remaining free & clear is the only way to live
Every day out on this cleansing ocean
I pray to the Lord, in the chance He might forgive

Where Is My Absurd Little Coffee This Morn

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Where is my absurd little coffee this morn
Claiming to be something or other
I rise slower, wiping Pixie Dust from my eyes
Never forget the dreams they try to smother
My gorgeous blonde lady sleeping peacefully
Our love burnt brightly into a passionate fire
I stretch my legs & smile at a job well done
She’ll slumber for a while, for she’s kind of tired

There Are Those Who Think Me Boring

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There are those who think me boring
There are those who think me droll
But I take all their judgements in stride
For I must stay true to my own soul

Their queries do not make me stir
For I no longer have anything to prove
But you better grip these sheets
Lookin’ lovely, hope you’re ready to move

Wasted my youth, obeyed all the rules
I’m enlightened; I’ve learned with time
These days I may be old & grey
But I’m still better than my prime

Alone With My Thoughts

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Alone with my thoughts
Shut up in this temporary, two room apartment
Thinking through imagination
Rack my brain to conjure anything Heaven sent

Ink spilled, but nothing to write home about
Languished notions in an attempt at creation
Yet a vision of satire is all that I am
Craving a spark; anything to produce elation

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

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

Time To Say Goodbye

My time has come to a close on another trip to Japan. Over the past 15 years I’ve been blessed to visit 3 times, including a year in 2007. I’ve experienced a lot that I never dreamed I would do. I don’t know if I will ever be back, but I’m glad I’ve had this trip to soak in a beautiful culture once again.

Japan is a mind blowing country. I have never seen anything like it.

I Love You, Woman

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I love you, dear woman
You make this life worth living
You always know how to make me smile
You really care & are always giving
I’m proud to call you my wife
You’re beautiful with ample –
Damnit –

What rhymes with cleavage?

Attempting To Maintain Where Imperfections Shunned

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Attempting to maintain where imperfections shunned
Marching toward time with the burden of flaws
Waking to find age has not been kind
Slowly decaying according to physics and natural laws

Mortality; a stark reminder of life
Leaving me kneeling with a heart full of hymns
My soul rejecting this modern existence
Yet, no matter what, I refuse to be society’s Hester Prynne

That Time For Announcing A Thankful Heart

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That time for announcing a thankful heart
Admittedly, I’m luckier than I could know
I’m grateful for a cozy home to return to
She’s statuesque; putting on a show

A very fine housedress with cleavage peeking
I can tell they’re lonely, in need of my kisses
Alas, it’s not the time for anything more
She’s busy, my housewife, my missus

I take her in my arms with tenderness
This wasn’t the next task she had planned
But it’s rather chilly outside
How else shall I warm my cold hands

I’m Not A Joiner

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I’m not a joiner
I’m deliberately choosing not to join your group
Breaking free of these inconsistencies
Past sins & missteps on an endless loop

I inherently distrust any gathering of people
Seeing we’re doomed to live out the follies of youth
We lost our way & never came back
Now spurned forward by the allure of truth

Writing Sonnets For My Beloved

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Writing sonnets for my beloved
But I cannot speak in pentameters
The lines & sentiment lost on my tongue
Erasing the stray marks upon the parameters

Mother Nature is exhausted
Discovering it’s time to hibernate
Humble beauty of the landscape
Folding into herself unto the infinite

Hearing the last strains of Autumn
But the air is still hot
Clinging to a customary belief
While we hide behind a fig leaf
But we all know leaves fall and rot

Let’s Normalize Matrons Flashing

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Let’s normalize matrons flashing
I fancy the unexpected & a little brash
She gets my eyes swirling & I’m lightheaded
Fully transfixed; my heart’s going to crash

I can’t help but stare at her dancer’s legs
My eyes keep placing them in second position
The way they move without effort
My pulse quickens; a love in transition

To the glee of an unsuspecting audience
The mesmerized & enchanted crowd
Now forever willing to do her bidding
She winked at me & couldn’t be more proud

Those Ebina Slums Are More Nervous

Those Ebina slums are more nervous
Than a pair of skinned cats
I don’t remember you warning me
But you couldn’t have known that

In the end, these experiences
Won’t amount to all that much
They’ll dissipate with the wind
Gone with the ghosts & such

You may struggle with a rose
Striking hard against your bone
Sunshine guides your dreams
Days encompassing your unknown

*poem written circa 2008

*photo taken circa 2022

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

In Defense Of The Outcasts & Weirdos

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In defense of the outcasts & weirdos
Those strange fellows who demand to be free
Exposing thought & sincerity to open air
To live one’s own life & forever reject conformity

Counting oneself amongst the abnormal
Involuntarily immersed in thought & deed
The action of creating poetic existence
For some days, that might be all we need

Walking Down The Street On All Saints’ Day

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Walking down the street on All Saints’ Day
Victrolas on display at the corner store
A flirtatious greeting with the local beauty
She always smiles, but never asks for more

You’ve created another aura within her
Casting her as red-blooded in your pulp fantasy
A polite lady with those vicious high heels
Mental interludes without consent, it seems to me

Take your dreams & exit stage left
You tried to court & failed, life’s not fair
Let a true gentleman whisper elegant words
She’ll open up her passion, exposing her silky pair