Simplistic attempts lurking beneath
But rejecting the notion of captivity
Breaking chains & spreading your legs
Blinded by your own claim at depravity
Simplistic Attempts Lurking Beneath
claim
The World Can Only Hold So Many Poets
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
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
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
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
Where Is My Absurd Little Coffee This Morn
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
Captain Q 