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
Civil disobedience
Marching against their sullen grain
Public executions of our citizens
The ones whom systematically resemble our pain
Exhibitions of our worst character traits
The trembling hands with transcribed blood
Outside of the panoramic eye
Yet all the same, caught in the seismic flood
A taciturn refusal to simply exist
Check your feed for what revolutionaries say
Bold proclamations & campaign slogans
But eventually the media hype fades away
Some other crime or scandal to catch your eye
Lights, cameras & we all return to normal instead
Forgetting those who can’t whore for Zuckerberg
But the people still live with a price on their head
Tracing your collarbone
Your heartbeat, my tranquility
Posed in your heirloom pearls
Emboldened to be the best of my ability
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
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
