Released from the burden of perfection
Onward to complete this chance
Soaking in my soul’s refraction
I’m not grandiose, but I’ll enhance
Ripening with a golden age
This is nothing but a jagged gleam
A smudge on the stark white page
Determined to be more than a dream
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
She’s alone
In spite of all the adoring eyes
Propped firmly on the pedestal
A solitary witness when lust dies
She’s been up there in isolation
The heroine of the bell tower
A slight teeter in her stance
Still defying gravity on the hour
Her alabaster skin shines at night
A chance to quietly & decidedly atone
The decadence of her marble bust
Fingerprints on her heart of stone
Another teary-eyed princess
With a vintage, tarnished crown
Yet, I cannot stop worshipping her
For who’ll catch us, when we all fall down
But from this distance
I cannot properly love her
Riding out these rough seas
Trying to shield our shipwrecked daughters
Storms moving in on us rather quickly
Feeling Hell’s heat & it’s only getting hotter
From port to port, not knowing where to go
Remaining free & clear is the only way to live
Every day out on this cleansing ocean
I pray to the Lord, in the chance He might forgive
Days & time confuse themselves
The bending of the sun’s first rays
I don’t mean to bother you much
But I’m lost between a solar phase
The details of how we exist
When we peer before the day comes to be
Glimpsing the chance at happiness
Stretching our thoughts around reality
Strike up the band, Sweet Lady
I have the feeling we need to dance
Your Southern Charms come calling
& I’m feeling I might get my chance
I’ll compliment your lovely gown
& whisper all my devious thoughts
At the sight of your enticing blush
My nipples grow a little more taut
She’s not hurting anyone
What’s your inherent need to control
Let her be to live her life free
Treating her like there’s no sovereign soul
She’s young, trying to have fun
Release her from your archaic notions
You fear unbridled joy & autonomy
Unable to handle her natural range of emotion
Time to hand the world over to the youth
No need to continue your attempts to entrance
We had our time & we failed miserably
With their fresh blood, we might have a chance
Make sure you call her beautiful
Don’t refer to her as merely ‘hot’
Don’t say tits or tatas
Be respectful of all that she’s got
Be charming when you speak of your lady
Be a gentleman; know how the game is played
Don’t divulge any of her secrets
When you shut your mouth; a better chance to get laid
Seeking the subtle differences
Between life & the setting sun
Passion is in the overlooked details
At least that’s how we’d begun
Trying to make each step proper
But somehow finding ways to fail
Love doesn’t mean we’re forgiven
Yet it’s the chance each moment entails
I wonder if she realizes to what extent
How her existence teases me so
She exudes passion & beauty
She looks delicious & I want to know
Her blessings spilling out of her shirt
Perhaps unbuttoned a bit too far
She’s oblivious to my attentions
With her facade cracked slightly ajar
I try to remain with respectful intent
Though my curiosities want probed
I’ll just be waiting over here
In the off chance she becomes disrobed
I saw the most beautiful woman in the world
But then, I noticed she couldn’t stop staring
Her eyes directly focused on my button-fly
“Are those Bugle Boy Jeans, you’re wearing?”
I tried to summon the confidence to answer
But only a stammer & a pathetic gurgling sound
She drove off without a look in the rearview
Such a chance as that moment, I’ve never found
Dancing socialites & reformed ladies
Choices of the malevolently absurd
Not really what you figured to be
Those weren’t the chances you heard
Life tries to knock us all off
The rugged seem tenacious & alive
Tapping toes with your perfect partner
Where do we step when we want to survive
What are the chances
A statistical report
Falling in love
in retort
Finding the sunshine
Feeling the glorious heat
Remembering the time
Our lonely lips did meet
Saving me from despair
A slow march to the sea
Loosening of our tongues
Another chance to be free
Getting our bodies outside
A good stretch in open air
I love your everything, but
You’re best when you’re bare
Surrounding myself with ancient friends
Wisdom & experiences laid upon my shelf
Bare for all to quietly consume
Providing a chance for a better version of self
Absorbing past lives without pause
Silhouettes of women from long ago
Angst from existential rights in time
Visions of dreams I wish to forgo
These books are mere placeholders
For the contents of my heart upon hardwood
Gentle reminders of our former intellect
& the hope we might return to being good
Sitting at the windowsill
Fingers stained by my ink
Face red & tranquilly humbled
Cold & tumbled; too frozen to think
The nights are dropping temps
I’ll need to do everything to keep warm
Though I’m unwrapping each layer
Eagerly embracing your gracious form
Life is a fine chance to love you
Trading kisses as I adjust your weary crown
Telling stories of our younger days
& the magic that happened in a little Arizona town
Image by Lou Blazquez from Pixabay
Liberation granted by the morning alarm
Still alive; this body aching with rippling fatigue
October visions, yet I’m safe from obvious harm
Visions dwindling; remnants of horrific intrigue
Seeking out coffee to loosen this slumber
A stretch & chance to deliberately mourn
These dreams encrusted in burnt umber
Sworn to abide by the wisdom of Nat Hawthorn
The terror that befalls us when we’re unaware
Soon free from the slow tolling of the funeral bell
Needful sleep caught us within a nightmare
Unconsciously breaking from a manufactured hell
Visions of dropping acid with William Blake
Dawn is our escape; returning to peace as we wake
Midnight’s a fine time to take the Jacksonville train
Rolling double boxcars to decide our fate
Gotta get back to my lover’s bedside
‘cause women like that don’t hardly wait
Been dreaming of her since the days of steam
Finely dressed woman with incalculable sense
I’m lagging behind schedules & timetables
Hindered by a world of devastating pretense
Spellbound, in the terminal cloister, trying to keep track
Our destiny dwindling, chanced by the tumble of dice
Fearing snake eyes when we need eleven
For lightning isn’t going to strike us down twice
Separation has me feeling on the edge of sincerity
Bleary eyes blinked time & again for some sanity
I’m not emotionally set up for these tribulations
Fear of failing, yet no marks upon my frivolous vanity
Memories of forgotten moments in the text
Perhaps it’s time for me to remain fully alert
But I can’t ignore how my insides churn
The notions of the woman so beautifully pert
It’s risky to return my heart for ante
Somewhere she’s loosening her bustle
This venture is getting out of hand
When she’s applying her legendary hustle
Pulling into the station, I know my lot
A few hours late; enough for passion to be reclaimed
I’ve tried my best, but crapped out again
In my weakness, I become loved; that’s when the angels came
Image by Khusen Rustamov from Pixabay
Your idols weren’t half the men
They thought they were half a bottle in
Cowardly hiding behind unjust traditions
Sinning while gulping juniper medicinal gin
Their women languishing in the shadows
Cast off from any chance to reach the light
Yet those damsels can see through the dark
The perfect heroine to save an errant knight
Misconstrued notions of dynamic parity
Swabbing the deck with your fallen idol
Ink smudges & literary drudges
Methinks – their mothers should’ve used spermicidal
Forgotten in the ether
Against the stones on the shore
Fatigue hitting hard at sunrise
Before the day might restore
You cannot outlive a memory
Our fates left to a diminished chance
Bound to the sea by luck or force
Drifting silently with suspicious circumstance
Dog eared postcards & other totems
Words from home to quench the tide
Meandering scribbles in the margin
Dreading the prospect of another ride
But the machine will keep on rolling
Until we end the tolerance of systematic lies
This is the only chance we have here
Life is not lived if it ends in a tempered sigh
The man has you grinding away
The organ makes the monkey dance
You’re looking for the Promised Land
But you never really had the chance
You’re writing your soul on the page
Friends support & love all they heard
But the critics cry foul & laugh bitterly
You’re only as good as your last word
Now that I’m old, there’s no chance to be cool
I’m that creepy lurker passing the delicates isle
Finding myself lost in nebulous thought
Youth dropping their eyes while I try to smile
You can’t be friendly when you’re a certain age
Somewhere along the line, I missed my cue
Oblivious to the graffiti on the decaying walls
I’m slowly dying, more with each day that’s through
Stuck before I can be the wisened old fellow
Conversations with alter egos as I deliberate
Taunting life with my aggressive apathy
Father Time impatiently waiting for my cryptic fate
A litmus test for fragile character upon my days
Emerging from adulthood with wisdom in my head
Never again a victim to society’s whims
Pushing past expectations; my own hero instead
Rising higher than their own trite requirements
Still not accepted & still the silly old fool
Sketchy, weird & perpetually the outcast
Damn, there went my last chance to finally be cool
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
Redrawing my own figure
A new shape by the point of my pen
Shading away the obvious flaws
Perhaps I’ll be good enough then
Trying not to carry any burdens
Check out my new roguish stance
I’m cut from a cooler cloth now
Perhaps I’ll finally have a chance
Captain Q 