My whole life on scraps of paper
My soul jotted down on the page
Plot lines between scribbles
Character development as we age
Everything that I am, right here
Pushing to further keep my mind trained
My heart’s secret smudged
Within these lines my identity is contained
Searching cavernous souls
Racking what I might believe
Splitting hairs of fragrant
Ideas wandering down my sleeve
But I’m not more righteous
Than the boys down on the beat
I’m flawed, sensitive – prone to anger
Stuck in a commuting rut; weakly on repeat
There’s quiet secret I might contain
Love & passion bubbling just beneath my skin
I think in poetry, but you desire a hero
Can’t compete with expectations; our mutual chagrin
When my time is finished
You may say whatever you want about me
That I never grew up
That I contain no redeeming qualities
My words were hollow & juvenile
My attempts at piracy weren’t any good
But one thing will never be said
That I didn’t love her the best I could
My fetish is powerful women
Standing proud in front of a crowd
Holding court with authenticity
Firmly entrenched without having to get loud
Mesmerized by the way she carries herself
Controlling me with a compassionate glance
She’s my incandescent muse
My reason for believing in happenstance
She’s regal without being out of touch
Properly expressing how it feels to be real
But I know she’s never going to give in
No matter our depravities, she will never kneel
Containing the ability to remain soft & lovely
While always making me hard
She can be inconvenient to worship
Not a plot point, won’t let you simply discard
Who am I to say no?
When she asks me to open up for the Queen
I’m the victim of my own volition
But I love it all, if you know what I mean
Your painted lips upon the tea cup
A bountiful feast spread before you
A grateful life filled with laughter
There is nothing you wouldn’t do
Thinking of everyone else first
Within that most beautiful chest
Contains a self-sacrificing heart
Please know I’ll always love you the best
A poetess of no structure
I bet you taste sweeter
Your passion runs deep within
You shall not be contained
By any man nor concept
You hold the power
To your own release
I can’t explain
I don’t have the frightful words
Just know I can still feel
Yet my notions contain the absurd
These nuisance actors linger
Youthful mistakes I always regret
The musty smell of a cracked spine
Odes & reams I can never forget
I won’t judge you for your past
I don’t care how your body looks
Inward – we all contain equal souls
We can all absorb the beauty of books
Go read! Fitzgerald, Kerouac, Twain
Emerson, Rand, Tolstoy, Hemingway
Thoreau, Dostoyevsky, Neruda, Yeats
Great words are forever here to stay
It is solely up to you
To build up your literary wealth
But I will constantly judge you
For the contents of your bookshelf
Bluer than words allow
God’s great oceans set free
Not to be contained
You cannot own the sea
Technological advances
Now seem so moot
Driftwood without direction
A sailor has no roots
What do I do with my words
How do I contain when they start to leak
Like the Little Dutch Boy
Who’s listening when I start to speak
But I can’t worry about the audience
I’ve got to keep playing my own tune
The steady groover with the proper notes
When it comes to our hearts, no one is immune
I know I’m high maintenance
Requiring a lot of attention, affection & affirmation
But I return it all with utmost devotion
Drowning out apathy’s lazy fulminations
Not one to be quiet & demure
She’s the lady I can’t refuse
Always tempted by her presence
Banners at the ready; sing out the news
I contain a physical style of love
Many out there don’t like my PDA
Wishin’ I’d be more subtle
But I’m blessing her with this passionate bouquet
Image by Vitabello from Pixabay
Captain Q 