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
Faded perceptions of underlying joy
Time weathers away what is true
Hard residue of the glittering spoils
Returning everything back to you
The sun bleaches your most precious
Salt-laden & resolving to remain
Chipped & authentically real
Beauty seldom exists without pain
True to life, but hard to digest the pain
Adversity compounded living without rest
Altered dreams when slumbers can’t remain
Been ages since she authentically felt her best
The world can only hold so many poets
Woefully claiming Bukowski as their inspiration
Worshiping a habitual womanizer & drunk
Answering questions with little to no imagination
I’m doing my best to fill up the lines & empty spaces
With these ink splotches spreading upon the page
Distinct notions of what I believe to be right
But I’m only displaying the curmudgeon side of my age
Shove off from those heroes & clip art stick figures
We need fresh voices with an authentic feel
No more grave-robbing stale words & artifacts
We need to release the future & embrace what’s real
Working on this beach bod
Lived my whole life up in my head
Trying to become something lovable
Society left me mostly ignored instead
Attempts to create an unique existence
Purging the dreadful; want something more
An authentic soul bent on sincerity
Giving you my all, but you’d rather have Thor
I can’t be anything that I’m not
I’m lifting weight, going for a run
Never listen to what a fool transcends
Getting old is not any fun
Thoughts of another calendar year
The hopes & dreams you wish to achieve
Dropping needless burdens – disappear
Regrouping; returning to what you believe
How do we move forward toward our goal
To be resolute & live to be heart-whole
***
Authentically alive with a smile & a pure soul
My fetish is powerful women
Standing proud in front of a crowd
Holding court with authenticity
Firmly entrenched without having to get loud
Mesmerized by the way she carries herself
Controlling me with a compassionate glance
She’s my incandescent muse
My reason for believing in happenstance
She’s regal without being out of touch
Properly expressing how it feels to be real
But I know she’s never going to give in
No matter our depravities, she will never kneel
Containing the ability to remain soft & lovely
While always making me hard
She can be inconvenient to worship
Not a plot point, won’t let you simply discard
Who am I to say no?
When she asks me to open up for the Queen
I’m the victim of my own volition
But I love it all, if you know what I mean
Those words come to me in those coffee dreams
A spontaneous marvel of literary delight
There’s a difference between manufactured beauty
& a real beauty, founded by nature’s authentic right
But I can’t explain the nuances with the definition
I’m not one to judge such subjective whims
Focusing on my own qualms & dangling thoughts
Let us sit, pour another cup, let’s solve these problems
I’m not bothered by such trifling issues as rules
Let them worry about my intents & being misconstrued
I let my chosen pages explain all I’m willing to
I’m more concerned if that pot has finished it’s brew
Captain Q 