A fresh morning in a shabby hotel
Sunshine pouring through open drapes
Heavy, yet obviously threadbare
Blinded; only seeing abstract shapes
Sitting on the edge with a warm mug
Need to move, but my legs won’t go
A few more moments in this peace
Hell begins once I’ve finished this cup of joe
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
Passing quietly in the night
Unbeknownst to a blind eye
Distractions turning nervous
Youthful visions of a divided sky
Perpetual beauty left ravished
Smudged but steady on course
Redemptions readily available
Without the gale’s full force
Simplistic attempts lurking beneath
But rejecting the notion of captivity
Breaking chains & spreading your legs
Blinded by your own claim at depravity
Sun coming up over the coast
Leaving me momentarily blind
She’s a big ol’ flammin’ orange
The one with the spicy rind
Watching the paper soak up errant coffee
Spillage; correcting the bland, empty page
Blocked before you wasted the elixir of life
Words summoned now like a pensive sage
Freely letting loose a volley of images
We are released to our new mode of narration
Blinded aesthetics on a crisp winter morning
Forever allowed to remain alive in short bursts of inspiration
You don’t see it
The boys not getting enough sleep
Those who have abandoned their homes
Keeping watch over the watery deep
You don’t see it
Those who dream of something better
Youth sacrificing blindly
Riding the tide, salt spray getting wetter
You don’t see it
Loading sea bags in early morning hours
Walking the gangplank in the face of fear
Trusting their lives to a Greater Power
You speak of the boatman
But you’ve never been down
To where the river meets the sea
We seek out a forgotten spark
But you never cared for others
The blinding discord of tranquility
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
The world is full of villains & misguided souls
Trying to drag us down to where they forever dwell
They take advantage & find ways to get elected on lies
Summoning their teams of bureaucrats to send us to hell
They have money, power & zero regard for the truth
You’d have to be deaf, dumb & blind to not know what’s amiss
But I don’t want to give them anymore of our time
I solely want to focus on our next kiss
“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.”
― Anaïs Nin
Captain Q 