To Lead A Life Of Silent Perspective

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To lead a life of silent perspective
Not wasting energy being against
something
Instead forging a new path
One of my own making
Not to cause erosion
So I leave my boots back on the main road
Walking softly; causing no ripples
Society has no room for a soul like mine

You’re Trying To Be Alternative

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You’re trying to be Alternative
But you didn’t know Alternative was a thing
Concepts from days long past
So what, you’re awkward & like to sing

Angst from deep before you were born
Grungy flannels stolen from brothers backs
Unironically strutting to messy riffs
The beauty’s in what the structure lacks

Friends & family are pleading with you
Please return to the organized norm
But you can’t rebel from your soul
& you’ll never forgive yourself if you conform

What Drawer Do You Keep Your Stockings

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What drawer do you keep your stockings
Without secrets this life would be boring
Realize we’re all a little vain
Or we’d never get dressed in the morning

Moonshine martinis for the quiet lady
We all need an excuse to clear our minds
Offering a compassionate ear
The clues exist once you pull back the rind

Finding lipstick stains in the spilled ink
Dangerous curves under a vintage coat
Hushed tones as to not spook such a woman
The peculiarities of each soul; I take note

Not Content With Common Thought

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Not content with common thought
Moved to feeling in the handwritten form
Translating the Siren’s voice
Higher levels of not tolerating the norm

We need to break free of these doldrums
Return to where truth spoken with the quill
Compassion in community not a fragmented society
Where we’re doomed to remain at a standstill

There Are Those Secrets We Whisper

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There are those secrets we whisper
& then there are the ones we keep
Compressed down, deep inside
The one that makes us cry as we sleep

We are all messed up creatures
Some days I might smile & think I’m well
But only I know the Hell simmering within
I’ll continue to rise, but some things I’ll never tell

Discovering The Nun On The Radio

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Discovering the nun on the radio
Still bleeding, but only in black ink
Desert highways from a distant youth
Debated truths & now fallen out of sync

Wiping fingerprints from the Dial
Our subscription long ago expired
Shifting hemlines & the fate of love
Reception’s attenuated; must’ve crossed wires

Haven’t seen a service station in hours
Sweating profusely with not a cloud in the sky
She presses the accelerator & coyly winks
I’m dizzy & both our throats are terribly dry

Blowing The Dust Off Our Individuality

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Blowing the dust off our individuality
Making sure our hands have the proper grip
Clutching the pen to jot a delicate ode
Black coffee; bold inscriptions with each sip

Once awake, I turn to the written word
Exacting the notes conjured; never by rote
Lost with the margins of a fool’s errand
I’m quiet, but compassion might just be the antidote

Naked Recitals On A Rainy Day

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Naked recitals on a rainy day
Pursuing words off the tip of her tongue
The bookmark’s subtle movement
But that bell won’t be un-rung

I have a weakness for smart women
There’s a deliciousness to their thoughts
Flaunting her drop-dead genius
Leaving me bothered & hot

Innocently lewd ending with a flourish
She comes to me, reaching to kiss my earlobe
Retreats with a curtsy à la nude
She’s done; winks & pulls closed her robe

Y’all, We Have Soccer Moms Trying To Ban Books

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Y’all, we have soccer moms trying to ban books
Wishing to shield things they don’t want you to know
But revolutions & thoughts just won’t burn
Intellect cannot be stopped, you merely make them slow

These fundamentalists get hot under the collar
When they see repression, they begrudgingly swoon
A weird fetish to extinguish ideas & desire
Appalled by anyone thinking of Love before noon

The censorious are coming for your hearts & minds
Seething with hate for anything silently inappropriate
Your Book declares thou with sin cannot cast thy stone
Minor scandals not so obscure when karma retaliates

Being fallacious isn’t as grand as it sounds
Yet, ya’ll out here in the streets committing slander
I refuse to pander to your anger & delusions
You’re just waiting to be shut in, unloved; smelling of dander

Do you ever find yourself lost within your misguided intent
I realize you’re genuinely hoping to shield the youth
But they don’t need your unfounded reservations
Nor do they respect your faulty judgement in hiding the truth

Please, cease & desist with your moral hubris
You’re foolish, stop before you fulfill the prophesies of 1984
You’re Orwellian without the perfect irony
But, you’re not ready to deal with the weight of evermore

Bradbury warned us about erroneous application of law
I can see we won’t keep our rights without a fight
Justice leading us into a deprivation of choice
You need to remember Jesus hung with ladies of the night

Within your imprudent latching, you’ve been misled
Matters not if you have delicate sensibilities, the Piper will get paid
I believe you to be rash, but I’m no one of any consequence
I may be deluded, but I believe you gotta get properly laid

Seeking Out The Sunshine

 

Seeking out the sunshine
Grasping at anything bright
Echoes from the haunting
Howls from deep in the night

Taking the long way home
Away from all things too much
Avoiding stress & transgressions
Trappings of modernity & such

We shall find an answer
Within the confines of peace
Our aims are good & true
Seeking love until the end of life’s lease

Old Floridian Parchment

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Old Floridian parchment
Written histories upon ink stains
How to think within today’s tragedies
Wondering how any sanity can remain

We try to build ourselves back up
When the world tears itself down
The ruckus in the middle of silence
The tears when you can’t quite frown

Truth isn’t worth what it used to be
Righteousness has overtaken the price
We struggle to exist without persecution
They’re coming for you, even if we play nice

Sliced Limes From A Rusty-Handled Dagger

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Sliced limes from a rusty-handled dagger
Placing erratic value on worn objects
Mundane property holders for our words
Soaking quietly into the meaning of the text

The sun still feels warm even at this hour
Tangible heaviness keeps the mind sane
We survived; regardless your thoughts on America
Tomorrow we return to fight, so others may remain

Events Like Watergate Come & Go

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Events like Watergate come & go
Revealing to the public our national shame
We no longer trust the government
Any effort to deceive us is just plain lame

Our capitalistic masters heading for disaster
These pathetically absurd
Creating content for the algorithm
But they don’t care about our words

Dr. Strangeglove is plotting
The folly of the Pentagon staff
Making old ladies weep
When only evil men can still laugh

Time keeps ticking, even when we hurt
Old white men will begin to campaign
Dropping promises like forgotten love notes
The people cast aside once they pop champagne

You ask me frivolous questions
Who shall I vote for
I don’t know who cares
But, I’m rooting for no one in 2024

Small Movements While Sorting Absent Thought

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Small movements while sorting absent thought
Surrealist painting hanging over the bedframe
Remaining warm with past subscriptions of the Dial
Shunning the past, but somehow still the same

I cannot make myself extroverted
I’ve never been a joiner; not very verbose
An overactive imagination & searching mind
Yet, outwardly I appear sullen & morose

I’m trying to crawl out of my own way
I’ve been a misogynist & a cynic; it’s all in the file
Shedding the weight of pessimistic sin
Yet some days I still wear a curmudgeon’s smile

Old World Sensibilities

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Old world sensibilities
Recounting how they used to exist in solitude
Before landing upon foreign shores
Bringing hostility & menacing attitudes

But we’re the aliens we’ve dreaded
The scourge has already been here
Talking heads with no shortage of breath
Keep reminding us who we should fear

Wet Sunday Mornings

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Wet Sunday mornings
Grass still damp from the rain
Fresh air still cool to the touch
Rising without a hint of pain

Voluptuary visions upon a treasured bond
Hoping we might become bosom buddies
Remotely fond of the Bon Vivant’s taste
When I proposed to you in the study

My parochial quips; unacceptable in polite society
Profane & unprintable odes to her formidable posterior
Writing what catches my mind’s eye
I can’t help it if my motives might be ulterior

Vice & folly are complimentary rectitudes
But please stop staring at the lady’s chest
There’s only so much to explain away
& no one cares the origin of your Preppy crest

Tell me what constitutes good head
With my mind clinging to her curves
These dreams; had their own Silicone Valley
Yet, when she speaks I’m a pile of nerves

Boxing Day is the day for cunninglingus
Cauliflower ear from her thighs
Witnessing nature’s perfect curvature
Nonperishable lust eschews the dandy’s lie

Vanity is fundamentally unstable
Draping you in silks & laces so gaudy
New souls full of an easy virtue
Just know, how badly I want your bawdy

I Shed My Clothes As She Unbraided My Defenses

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I shed my clothes as she unbraided my defenses
Her blessings covered by tight-knits
God alone formed her
Shrines to erections of yore
Directions to the Promised Land, I implore
I want a match – a sturdy blonde
Not a waif to knock over in the breeze
Pulling ¥1000 from her bra
Causing her heart to thaw
Bunched dresses & undue stresses
Licking the condensation off my glass
My memories over perfectly stretched fabric
We have but today to become interlaced
I try to speak; her beauty’s making me dumb
& never failed to impress
I remain aware;

Still here to bare my soul & my bum

Let Me Borrow A Glass Of Your Mom’s Wine

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Let me borrow a glass of your mom’s wine
I get thirsty in these evening hours
Noticing silhouettes moving in the kitchen
Before too long I might need a quick shower


This humidity is slowly trying to roast me
I’m soaking wet & need fresh shirtsleeves
Her beauty wouldn’t exist without God’s consent
I’m merely appreciating that in which I believe

My Words Not Yet Upon The Honorable Shelf

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My words not yet upon the honorable shelf
Needing to be written before displayed
Returning to the beginner’s mind
Where a fresh outlook might be relayed

The quiet intent of seeking wisdom
But maybe we could apply it
Without toxic soapbox rhetoric
No use in deflecting nor to deny it

Navigating the rows of knowledge
The sheer beauty of words, staked by reams
Our hearts insulated from reality
By the rumination of our dreams

My Wineglass Perched On Your Ass

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My wineglass perched on your ass
After the night we spent tonguing in cursive
Stagnant & installed as my petrified goddess
Wishing modern love was more immersive

Making memories of stained glass
Naked with our flesh intertwined
Fresh thoughts I need to write down
Either way, I know you’re forever mine

Sheep In Wolves’ Clothing

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Sheep in wolves’ clothing
Alone in the natural spirals
A delicate peace teetering
In a time when hate’s gone viral

A profound wilderness
With the Shepherd long forsaken
Truth & reason at risk
With Faith’s foundations shaken

Does compassion still exist
Love faltering/dreams now monochrome
The Devil removing his mask
Once he’s comfortably at home

Many A Boy – Quick In His View

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Many a boy – quick in his view
Looking for the easy girls of a soft dawn
Those who are comely & always giggle
With an fresh smile & seldom else on

They know not the pleasure of true joy
The beauty of engaging an active mind
The coaxing out of the right words
An equal in intellect you might find

But I, who finds himself at sunset
Have indeed heard the siren’s voice
& the pleasure of being selected
By a grown woman’s choice

Intellectual Mistresses

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Intellectual mistresses
Words & ideas laced with stimulants
Coaxing my mind from sullen thought
Pulling me free from these malcontents

She caught me watching laundry dry
And imagining what’s underneath
Thinking to myself, how much more beauty
Lies hidden from view
                            That she might bequeath

The Heartfelt Rendition Claimed My Attention

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The heartfelt rendition claimed my attention
Quiet moments only my heart knows
Removed from the trappings of society
The constructs placed before us
The silent agreement through appeasement

I am not content with following them
                      Obeying their rules
                       Arbitrary that they be

Breaking out on my own
Away from the nonsensical hate
We can re-create a courteous society
Without the need to execute our leaders
Sharpening our swords before we
                                                    vote
We must keep them honest

Cavernous Depression Falling Down Without Truth

Cavernous depression falling down without truth
Wet streets refracting the bitter twilight of the moon
Trenches & overcoats pulled tight to repel the world
A need for answers that cannot wait past this noon

Try to place everything perfectly into its correct box
Finding out the little control we have while we’re here
Knowing the results we wish to see once the sun rises
No need to stay dry when you’re drowning in this fear

Late Nights Blend Into Early Mornings

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Late nights blend into early mornings
Up with the weirdos on the street
Seeing visions where the shadows were
My mind tripping; my instincts in retreat

All the sand has fallen from the hourglass
Dangerous curves when I’m confused
Punching time clocks when I should slumber
Paycheck feels light/ feel like I’m being used

Leaving my underwear in the middle of the floor
I need more, but its high time for bed
To sleep, to dream; an impossible task
Passing ships with everything left unsaid

Not The Shortest Skirt

 

Not the shortest skirt
But it set my imagination ablaze
If I was any good at writing
I’d release you from this maze
For good measure
You’ll receive this quiet example
Though be courteous
Upon my heart, please do not trample

We try to achieve anything
Whether it be great or to merely outlast
Winding up happy is miraculous
Each day tries to dredge up the past
So finding beauty or a smile
In the midst of all this soulcrushing
Can be the hidden meaning
That sends the blood rushing

Unsure Footing On A Spring Night

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Unsure footing on a Spring night
All dressed up, but the music’s wrong
She’s looking quite delectable
She’s tough, so my charm won’t run long

We used to have private parties
Back when we were young & dumb
The future always so far in front of us
I was too preoccupied with getting a crumb

But life goes quicker than we knew
Grappling with how our forties came by surprise
Time may be a fickle little bitch
But she’s still the apple of these eyes

Picking Up My Girl Along The Way

Picking up my woman along the way
A short enough skirt that’ll surely tease
Soft tones upon the extinguished day
Wine & song that I might forever please

Snapping fingers & popping buttons
Ample latitude that I might play her fool
Admittedly; for her touch I’m a glutton
My own words reveal me to still be uncool

My ravishing mettle giving her just cause
Subtly picking up her heels and hemline
This rakish spirit providing her pause
Exposing joy & unadulterated sunshine

I’m Tired, Weary, Fatigued, However You Want To Call It

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I’m tired, weary, fatigued, however you want to call it
This world is tearing itself apart, with no end in sight
Neighbors can’t stand the appearance of each other
If we don’t swerve, we’re all going to face the fiery night

Reject hate, reject them, reject the world’s system
I don’t care if kindness long ago went out of fashion
Don’t accept your options, make your own way
We need return to art, return to love & compassion

‘They’ are anyone who’ll tell you we can’t survive
Without stooping down to unconscionable degrees
Rebel, refuse & reclaim enlightenment & love
Lead ourselves away from their dysfunctional societies

God reserves a place in Hell for those who spout hate
Whether you believe in Christ or what Buddha taught
Love doesn’t see the differences between us
We can do better; a peaceful way must be sought

Politicians are no more than door to door salesmen
Fraudulent purveyors of the American dreamscape
But we, the silent underground, emerging each day
Fed up with their vision, proof that heroes don’t wear capes

Image by Grae Dickason from Pixabay

I’m Not Your Reluctant Hero

 

I’m not your reluctant hero
I’m nothing along those lines
Don’t think so highly of a fool
With your lips crumbling into your wine

Please don’t raise me up to be much
I’m not what you see with your eyes
A figment of an imagination’s dream
I’m lost within these warm Florida skies

I Fell Out Of Jerry’s Beard

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I fell out of Jerry’s beard
That trip was critical & weird

Pushin’ the limit in this life
Don’t confuse me with strife

Keep your learned looks
I’ll steal a trove of books

Answers come when they please
Send me back to sail the seas

I’ll dry off at the Westward Ho!
For it is still all who you know

Last Of The Cold War Babies

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Last of the Cold War babies
Growing up with certain expectations of a guy
Snorting testosterone without wiping thy nose
Be a brute; don’t ever let them see you cry

But I’ve learned more from the women
Multigenerational lies narrating manhood
Walk like a man; talk like a savage
Bold proclamations are seldom very good

These days we find ourselves defending facts
Ultimate truth disparaged amongst the crowd
Yet I remember wisdom in spite of the chaos
To be subtle when the whole world is loud

Predawn Hours With Scalding Coffee

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Predawn hours with scalding coffee
Reading myths & legends from days of old
Disrupting the current faulty paradigms
Audibly spoken & once more properly told

These distorted visions have escaped
Any deliberate application of thought
No longer shilling for flawed traditions
Nor quoting misfired dissertations gone to rot

The Uneasiness In Beauty’s Proximity

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The uneasiness in beauty’s proximity
Erasing the value once one’s pleasing
Can’t be looked upon as respectable
When they’re out here coy & teasing

I’m embarrassed I caught your eye
& for you being pleasantly riled
I accidentally sent you reeling
All because I innocently smiled

A paradox in moral judgement
A blush when you find a stranger appealing
Flush with these strange emotions
Owed an apology ‘cause of how you’re feeling

Your sensibilities won’t allow you
To be caught with the last temptation
Eroded virtue of a wandering character
But we’ll call the whole thing an aberration

Time Isn’t What It Once Was

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Time isn’t what it once was
No longer a never-ending resource
Now I feel the aches & pains
Groggy; consuming the steaming life-force

Wiping the startled sleep from my eyes
The attempts at a structured morning
Lost a step; hard to think these days
Age comes with little to no warning

Waking Up With A Distracted Mind

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Waking up with a distracted mind
Aftershocks from a week on the grind
Trying to find value before the end of life’s lease
Notes on the venerable self & a lyrical muse to find

Walking up the cold steps of Old Main
A place to encounter books out of the rain
An affinity for the ones with the creases
A shared notion of binding pain

Wondering what fresh barriers to get through
But, I’m not here to explain anything to you
I’m here to love you as we search for peace
That our story & passion continue their rendezvous

The Floorboards Weren’t So Cold This Morning

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The floorboards weren’t so cold this morning
Days grow longer, you can sense it in the air
Constellations shifting in the early sky
Brewing coffee pitch black to see if my pulse is still there

Waking to see the American Dream broken
But that’s only if you ever believed it was real
For now I’m going to enjoy this cup while it’s warm
& bask in this Springtime while I can still feel

You Don’t Want To Admit

 

You don’t want to admit
That you possibly have some feels
The epic curve of your bosom
Heaving with a thought that I’ll steal

Your subtle plaid skirt laid out nicely
Legs tucked behind your shapely derriere
Forever might be nice if you accept
Together we meld into a love extraordinaire

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

I Can’t Speak To You With An Unbuttoned Blouse

I can’t speak to you with an unbuttoned blouse
I can’t stop dreaming about what might be
My eyes drift as I’m quiet as a mouse
I can’t help but objectify all that I see

I’m trying to be your gentleman caller
My purpose was to be on an even level
But you have me squirming a little taller
Falling for you again as you’re perfectly disheveled

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