Transparent Dresses Hanging In The Mud Room

Photo by Fidel Hajj on Pexels.com

Transparent dresses hanging in the mud room
Saran-Wrapped for mild protection
Eyes closed to foreign tales
Tempered thoughts of stifled affection

Painted prose with regurgitated eyes
Our dreams left choking on the floor
Scribbling beliefs with thick gouges
Manufactured truth with cries of Nevermore

Redundant weight of classical heroes
Forcing us into bastardized Groupthink
Yet my mind still wanders to her opaque passion
Chasing her dragon with endless ink

Touched By The Whim Of God

Touched by the whim of God
Revolutions in the unlikeliest of places
Tasting the perfect tilt to her hips
My benign lunacy comes in traces

Diluted measurements by midmorning
With inconvenient virtues & unholy glee
Bringing small obsessions in my mind
When the local widows invite me for tea

Entering only after a courteous introduction
No need to intrude on our nebulous beliefs
A shared sacrilege when I watch her curtsey
Dropping to our knees; praying for some relief

I’m Not Worried What You Think Is Silly Or Weird

I’m not worried what you think is silly or weird
I’m not concerned with judgements nor opinionated chatter
The world exists outside any of my control
I refuse to change & become another useless natter
Let me continue on & be steadfast in being me
The strength of a persevering personality
Shining on with a decorous grin
Jaunting forth; shunning your beliefs in reality