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
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
Giant sighs to begin the day
Spiritual attempts to center myself with verse
Coffee to coax the hopeful sun’s rays
I stand proudly naked; deterioration’s only getting worse
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
I’m a solitary figure these days
Although I’m too old to play the fool
Sometimes alone, through rarely free
No longer applying someone else’s rules
Quietly dancing solo these days
Who are we supposed to be then
You disdain my attempts at life
But it wasn’t God who sainted men
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
I don’t speak of the dark times
For I don’t know how to describe
Numb from the constant rows
Beating my head against the tide
All the while, I’m trying to keep in step
Attempts to parry everything exterior
Concurrent remedies do nothing
Resulting in the residue of the inferior
Intentions to escape these trappings
Quietly absconding along the coast
Ambitions to enliven another day
& thus a creation of a ghost
She’s not hurting anyone
What’s your inherent need to control
Let her be to live her life free
Treating her like there’s no sovereign soul
She’s young, trying to have fun
Release her from your archaic notions
You fear unbridled joy & autonomy
Unable to handle her natural range of emotion
Time to hand the world over to the youth
No need to continue your attempts to entrance
We had our time & we failed miserably
With their fresh blood, we might have a chance
Simplistic attempts lurking beneath
But rejecting the notion of captivity
Breaking chains & spreading your legs
Blinded by your own claim at depravity
You say I’m doing it wrong
I’m about to gavel you with my dong
I don’t need any instruction
You say I’m due for destruction
Fuck off with your prophecies
You’re not quite Socrates
Stop, these attempts are futile
I reject your whole kit & caboodle
You’re not the Lord, you have no domain
I am here and I shall always remain
Just an old poem that made me laugh. Hope You enjoyed it! (yes, that’s me on 2/18/97 according to the date stamp… my senior year!)
Knowing the bottom of the depths
Untold theories where passion lies
Encased all in a delicate French lace
The truth that logic & gravity defies
Earthbound creatures can’t be understood
It’s simply not in our fallible DNA
Attempted in conversational tones
But we’ve lost connection anyway
Trying to find a way back to the meaning
Reason doesn’t apply to moments like this
Disregard the pressures of our past
That we might create our own sustainable bliss
Image by Dayron Villaverde from Pixabay
Oh, where does our journey end
Or begin, as it so often might seem
Futile attempts to erase the past
The unknown details of our dreams
The open road panders to a false escape
The mere opportunity to rewrite a sojourn
Jesus perambulating with Uncle Walt
Debating the path; perchance to learn
Shaky prospects in apportioned time
Manifest destiny teases Ginsburg & Kerouac
Further roads leading to ornate wisdom
& we keep it concealed out in the back
Thoreau mocking society with his solitude
Knowing alone is the greatest we could ever be
Thoughts come to us in gentle waves
That perhaps our visions should become the sea
A reinterpretation of westward expansion
Route 66 cross-contaminating Highway 61
All roads have never led us home
Emily tempting Death with her life left undone
The growing wisdom of our consumed space
Emerson’s penning pre-revolutionary blues
Introducing our souls to unrefined grace
The Good Lord providing Her unfiltered muse
Feeble humanity; lost across the tracks
Original sin that we’ve taken on the chin
Sifting thought; we might be welcomed again
But knock off the Devil’s dust before you come in
When my time is finished
You may say whatever you want about me
That I never grew up
That I contain no redeeming qualities
My words were hollow & juvenile
My attempts at piracy weren’t any good
But one thing will never be said
That I didn’t love her the best I could
Rubbing their fingers over the stereo knob
The frequencies distorted on the airwaves
Kings of the new world & thus apocalyptic
Searching for something more pragmatic to crave
These technocrats with no concept of reality
Tasking – without offering an alternate fate
Demanding citizens for homages to be digital
With no power to control – or else we attenuate
Words of peace have the chance to amplify
Even when we’re feeling out of time/out of sync
Don’t need their fiber optic lies to survive
A blind man loses all when forced to blink
Tapping into a passion without any circuits
Our transistors are live; we’re lovers thus discrete
There’s no stopping us when their signal’s weak
There’s nothing but fire & sparks when our wires meet
This life is forever altered now we’re here
Do not attempt to adjust the squelch
You’re listening to Radio Free America
Standing proud & robust like Raquel Welch
Teetering on the edge of normalcy
The unraveling of misguided forms
This mind won’t settle into boredom
Will not compromise the quelling of the storm
Do not attempt to dampen this fire
My spirit will continue to actively soar
For I won’t be cajoled to become bland
Feeling fresh & alive, always reaching for more
Quietly, the most awkward person I know
Never sure how to handle a situation
Constantly judging myself & my actions
Forcing myself deeper into this alienation
Watching all the pretty people succeed
Just trying to survive, I’m happy I’m still here
No one wants to discuss the darkness within
But here I am, attempting to confront my fears
Captain Q 