Hanging With Crazy Creative Types

 

Hanging with crazy, creative types
They spin your mind in awkward ways
Melding simple ideas into revolutions
Expanding out into our civilian days

They’re different by their very nature
Never able to hide within society
Changing the world with each thought
Their beauty laced with inherent piety

I’m Not Proud Of My Strength

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I’m not proud of my strength
& the tension at its core
Heartbreak of awkward youth
& the pain it always bore

But time passes & we tend to forget
Replaced by tragedy on the evening news
No longer transcribing loss
Nor remembering that fatal bruise

Just Leave Me To My Own Amusements

Just leave me to my own amusements
I’m not looking to bother nor interfere
Allow me to remain spectacularly awkward
I still have no idea what I’m doing here

Permit me to live this adventurous life
In spite of love being impossible to arrange
I’m still seeking peace for this peculiar soul
& a hope I can remain delightfully strange

Stretching Yoga To Hello Nasty

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Stretching yoga to Hello Nasty
Bending this body in awkward positions
Head bobs & an elderly b-boy stance
Personal history leads me to contrition

Doc says my ticker isn’t what it once was
My mind is young, but I’m not at my peak
Slowly degrading upon each sunrise
Not quite old, yet bordering on antique

On The Shores Of Ol’ Patagonia

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On the shores of Ol’ Patagonia
While the citizens did sleep
Youthful fear of affection
Yet into the woods, they silently creep

Don’t let on how you feel
For you might get what you want
The pain of admitting you care
& perchance it might forever haunt

The burden of carrying embarrassment
& possibly feeling regret this long
Thy youth’s clear true love
But hindsight tells me I was wrong

For I wasn’t brave enough to trust
Too busy being incorrect by name
Fear welling into my soul
But I loved her all the same

It’s not fair to bring up old times
Immaturity & self-reject are not a virtue
I don’t deserve her thoughts nor sentiments
In the end, never good enough for you

Still thinking of what might’ve been
Or an excuse to freshly misbehave
Angst & teenaged awkwardness
Take a shot & take it all to my grave

She Was Enraged

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She was enraged
But it was merely an aesthetic
Undiagnosed shakedown calamity
Her stare leaving me cold & pathetic

She asked me why I was a Pisces
I told her I used to drink like a fish
Though attempts at humor fell flat
I was awkward; she was such a dish

I’m not as spectacular as I may seem
Age filters vexing characteristics instead
She looked upon me with curious disdain
Tangibly conceding to the voices in my head

Frayed Cuff On Antique Khaki

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Frayed cuff on antique khaki
Knowing thy state of dress
I wasn’t as dapper as she was used to
Hoping she wouldn’t think any less

He wasn’t any better than a prig
Her dance card drawing sideways looks
Quietly, she enjoyed my wicked tongue
& the way we shared our crooked books

Shaking the dust off our neglected spines
Certain steps lead to an awkward courtship
But faith in the power of pristine passion
That’s when I met her puckered cherry lips

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