Where is my absurd little coffee this morn
Claiming to be something or other
I rise slower, wiping Pixie Dust from my eyes
Never forget the dreams they try to smother
My gorgeous blonde lady sleeping peacefully
Our love burnt brightly into a passionate fire
I stretch my legs & smile at a job well done
She’ll slumber for a while, for she’s kind of tired
I have no right to her intentions
No claim on her attention
The pure choice of how to be
She always was & should be free
Autonomy of the soul, if we forgot to mention
Simplistic attempts lurking beneath
But rejecting the notion of captivity
Breaking chains & spreading your legs
Blinded by your own claim at depravity
The world can only hold so many poets
Woefully claiming Bukowski as their inspiration
Worshiping a habitual womanizer & drunk
Answering questions with little to no imagination
I’m doing my best to fill up the lines & empty spaces
With these ink splotches spreading upon the page
Distinct notions of what I believe to be right
But I’m only displaying the curmudgeon side of my age
Shove off from those heroes & clip art stick figures
We need fresh voices with an authentic feel
No more grave-robbing stale words & artifacts
We need to release the future & embrace what’s real
Sitting down to write
Nothing serious, just a rift
I wish to give you the sunshine
Through a few words to sift
Leaning forward with lovely intents
Though success or greatness I cannot claim
A mere humble boy with a pen
My heart still giddy when I whisper your name
Time to toss that hate on the Yule log
’tis love I wish to venerate
Another year rapidly diminished
No more sand to disseminate
It is time to let it all burn away
Unburden ourselves of anything hollow
No better than a dollar store chocolate Santa
Time to honor the Savior you claim to follow
Speak up, stand up; announce to the world
Spread the news of truth’s availability
Don’t be shy; we’re all in this together
Easy now, no need to hate on my virility
I honestly distrust anything popular or sacred
Passing them by & allow them to hide
I have to figure it out 20 years later
Force-filtered through life & time & tide
Opposing magnetic poles claiming Orwell
Both deluding themselves he’s their saint
But he was human & all the related flaws
His divinity seems a little too quaint
We need people with a firm, decisive choice
No interest in your ineffectual, intellectual porn
There’s no time for pussyfooting around
We must find the truth & feed it to the bullhorn
Captain Q 