Hobnobbing On A Summer’s Day

Photo by Vlada Karpovich on Pexels.com

Hobnobbing on a summer’s day
Listening to a calm Pan flute
Barefooted on the peaceful grass
But this heat makes it all moot

Ignoring all the world’s hate
We choose love above all the static
Holding on for a moral life
Survival in this society is never automatic

Life Isn’t So Perfect

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Life isn’t so perfect
We’ll all get bumps & bruises
Nightmares will find a way
But the path is the one she chooses

Victims are merely lame footnotes
She’s the heroine of her own script
Casting off their burdens/ flipping the bird
“Fuck off, society” she blatantly quipped

Image by engin akyurt from Pixabay

These Broken & Delayed Dreams

These broken & delayed dreams
Electric toothbrushes that constantly hum
A pocketful of change
& girls with eyes so pretty it makes me dumb

I’m not one to make a great scene
Yet I’m your average middle-aged guy
Not counted among the mundane
I couldn’t be normal, even if I tried

So we’re all stuck in this spinning limbo
A world with mixed up priorities & hate
I’m confused by all this wasted time
One of these days the hourglass will cease to rotate

So, I’m probably going to be late for work
For my beautiful woman resides in this bed
I could be responsible & get there on time
But I’m always going to choose to love instead

Image by Claudio_Scott from Pixabay

There’s So Much Talk Of Being Wild

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There’s so much talk of being wild
Like there’s a constant harness holding us back
But its just an illusion for others to see
You’re choosing to embrace all that you lack

These false pretenses are keeping you low
Images of a manicured life on your social media feed
Spending your days adjusting other’s perceptions
When these aren’t the actions a happy life really needs

It’s difficult to perceive any truth as you focus the camera
The projection of crazy as you manipulate your reputation
Here’s a secret, the honest people don’t really care &
The real wild ones don’t bother with perfect punctuation

Image by Anatoliy Morozz from Pixabay

Empty Wine Bottles Clink; Devoid Of All Inspiration

Photo by Anastasia Shuraeva on Pexels.com

Empty wine bottles clink; devoid of all inspiration
But that’s not the way you remembered they bled
Choosing the perfect wording for posterity
A trembling shadow of what the poets once said

We once set out to create a fresh universe
But that’s not the way I can any longer think
Falling in love with strange, beautiful women
The source & reason for all the dedicated ink

Our souls entwined in deliberate communion
But that’s not the way that I came to be lost
Specific writings to engrave our cosmic lust
Forever entombed within this highland frost

Incomplete Rants Are Broken Thoughts

Photo by Mohan Reddy Atalu on Pexels.com

Incomplete rants are broken thoughts
Antique shutters dangle in the breeze
Vaccinated by expired truth serums
Eye twitches; our hostess is ill at ease

Yet remaining upright on the page
Our fate wrapped in a trickster’s charm
Subtle strokes without remorse
Only dried ink leaves us disarmed

Subverting all the easy answers
Sacred is our fundamental right to choose
However your speculations drift
Cut the devil’s throat and wrap him in Winter’s hues

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