Blowing the dust off our individuality
Making sure our hands have the proper grip
Clutching the pen to jot a delicate ode
Black coffee; bold inscriptions with each sip
Once awake, I turn to the written word
Exacting the notes conjured; never by rote
Lost with the margins of a fool’s errand
I’m quiet, but compassion might just be the antidote
Last of the Cold War babies
Growing up with certain expectations of a guy
Snorting testosterone without wiping thy nose
Be a brute; don’t ever let them see you cry
But I’ve learned more from the women
Multigenerational lies narrating manhood
Walk like a man; talk like a savage
Bold proclamations are seldom very good
These days we find ourselves defending facts
Ultimate truth disparaged amongst the crowd
Yet I remember wisdom in spite of the chaos
To be subtle when the whole world is loud
Good morning
Light stretching & taking hold
Too long under these covers
Happenchance favors the bold
Time to spread these sea legs
Arching my back & flexing my arms
It feels good to still be alive
We’ve shuttered close, yet escaped any harm
Tracing your collarbone
Your heartbeat, my tranquility
Posed in your heirloom pearls
Emboldened to be the best of my ability
Opposing dialects of the same depression
Feeling callow when we don’t commiserate
Paperback blues of a notorious sort
You got paid, but that won’t always encapsulate
Strike out to find something foundational
Charms of something more eternal than gold
Words are hollow if not properly digested
Cling to this disjointed life, if you be so bold
Broken umbrellas & sturdy desks
Making no distinctions for the loss of time
Sketching out all the possible plots
Willful heartache remains the worst kind of crime
Put away your stencils & fountain pens
These days call for someone to be original & bold
Toss aside oaken casks of yesteryear’s notion
This world isn’t ready for those who shattered their own mold
Tea cups & china dolls should stay by the wayside
They won’t last long out here if they can’t put up a fight
Early days already simmering, making my coffee feel cold
Survivors must gather; let love be the fruit by which we write
I can still make mature women blush
Knowing the proper placement of words
Using my tongue to enunciate firmly
The rhythm of recitement, she slowly purred
The fertile experience of rapturous joy
Pause a moment, so she won’t catch her death
Letting her pulse settle to reasonable levels
Returning to the living, joy in each & every breath
The bold blonde with big, bouncy curls
Much-maligned missionary souls
Falling in love was always my fatal flaw
Especially once I’ve relinquished control
Weight of the world
Falling on my shoulders
Rising early to attack the day
Another coffee – going to need to grow bolder
The stress that defines life
The mess that we’ve made
Perception fades to black
Succumbed to the frustrations we’ve displayed
Sympathetic to Atlas’ condemnation
Understanding his modern fate
Premonition this load might explode
Knowing somehow I’ll eventually drop this weight
Stand & be bold in your activities
No longer obligated to their perceptions
Finding strength within to change
Absolved of retaining destiny’s misconceptions
I’m not saying I don’t appreciate
A lady of Paris, Milan & back again
A smartly dressed woman of the Times
Inspiration for me to re-dip my pen
I’m not saying I don’t cherish
A bold woman who’s a little bossy
Nudity as art upon tasteful scales
Teasing me through 8 x 10 glossies
I’m merely submitting a formal request
Publicly provide the proper image of classy
Though once their prying eyes are shielded
I’m going to need you to be gratuitous & sassy
I could say I love you
But you stopped listening to me
Searching for another way
Though we’ll never be free
For love has trapped us
Cupid shot me through the shoulder
I don’t know how he got you
But I’m dying & you’re growing bolder
Acknowledge these peaceable arts
Boring affairs these days, if truth be told
The proper staffing present & accounted for
I flirt with the notion that fortune still favors the bold
Reeking of this polite society
These standard fare sisters & brothers
But I’d be out there before the mast
Swilling shanties & rum; if I had my druthers
Another rainy afternoon
I’m just your normal kinda dude
Yet, I’m feelin’ rather confined
For, it’s too cold to do my chores
in the nude
But I’ll persevere anyway
Sometimes dedication is all we can hold
A robust attitude to lead us
Life is more exciting when you’re bold
Ducking my head between the pages
This mounting pile – high on my desk
Picture postcard from the far gone
Lost her to traveling’ roadside burlesque
Hiding my mind between the sheets
But my coffee had long grown cold
Writings spilled slightly on the saucer
Loneliness steeped until its forever bold
Captain Q 