Not To Keep Returning The Subject To Myself

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Not to keep returning the subject to myself
But there are certain truths I must understand
I’m no one special, a mere footnote
A history to be written, though not as planned

Dreams & hopes that never came to be
A rakish poet nor grizzled old typesetter
Through the years & false daily realities
It is inexplicable the mundane became better

So I find myself with a specific freedom
To be able to move without any sort of cosmic retort
For I have faith in love, fate & ultimate grace
Allowed to live without any innate need to stop short

I’m Being Teased By The Soft Pink

I’m being teased by the soft pink
Visions held by my fragile mind
Beauty only holds a certain firm
Your words delve until I find
I am strong enough to last
Though you tighten the noose
You know the subtle power
Let us declare a proper truce

Don’t Pull Myth Out Of The Truth

Don’t pull myth out of the truth

Don’t strip me of a certain beauty

Reality is far too painful for reason

To ease the hurt, our fortuitous duty

Erratic Rumblings First Thing In The Morning

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Erratic rumblings first thing in the morning
Thoughts all aglow from castiron candlesticks
Sunrise hasn’t interrupted my intercession
Another cup of coffee might ease my ticks

After watching too many hectic movie scenes
A set of expectations upon our furrowed brow
But I need to recede into my own soul
Let us return to existing in the here & now

You’re happiest when spooning a salted bourbon
& I’m certainly not one to overtly judge
But I’m at a crossroads in this life
From that woman; my heart defiantly won’t budge

I Often Catch Myself

 

 

I often catch myself

Glancing up at your windowpane

Occasionally seeing a silhouette

Memories of youth still remain

 

Possibly spying a lacy chemise

But now you’re wearing the curtains

Or maybe there was nothing on

But I couldn’t know for certain

 

The morning light not quite seen

I might feel like a common creeper

Alternate lifetimes in my mind

Yet I know you’d still be a keeper

I see your beautiful soul hiding

That passionate soul now a mere outline

Locked away in your precious life

I’m sure you’d say you’re ‘doing fine’

 

Possibly spying a lacy chemise

But now you’re wearing the curtains

Or maybe there was nothing

But I couldn’t know for certain

 

I see boundaries in your thought

I’m not intending to be rude

You can make your own decisions

I don’t wish to trespass nor intrude

You’re the princess in your castle

Not a figment of my invention

Locked eyes before you look away

Somehow grateful for the attention

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

Unique Approaches

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Searching for unique approaches
I want the proper words so I don’t gush
You’ve heard it all before I’m sure
Honing my tactics to make you certainly blush

Such A Beautiful Specimen

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Such a beautiful specimen
As I’m sailing through a mirage
Blue waters falling into crystal eyes
More interested in her décolletage
Aspirations following the deep night
Knowing the truth of a certain fashion
Toe to toe & inequality reigns
My only hope lies in enthusiastic passion

Choosing Certain Words

  

Choosing certain words
With connotations to stir
The hearts of the audience
Cocked crow with pubic fur
Sitting uncomfortably – like whaa?
Where the hell is he going with this
Delusional in this rehabilitating fatigue
Longing for the peace that I miss

Nell Zink

 

“Even his fucking was binary, a sorting process by which certain practices could be tried and found wanting or approved and accorded benchmark status.”

– Nell Zink, The Wallcreeper