Liberation Granted By The Morning Alarm

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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

I Went For A Walk In The Predawn Hours

I went for a walk in the predawn hours
I could feel something wasn’t quite right
’Twas a red sky morning/sailor take warning
Amiss; something’s gone bump in the night

There was a time I went walking in the woods
Fatigued; this existence has become too tense
It was there I encountered the damned zombies
They stole my peace along with my sensibility & sense

Now, I don’t do much walking outside of the wire
If I must, I seek protection from my Heavenly Lord
I never fail to bring along a prayer upon my lips
& in my hand the weight & might of the Wu-Tang sword

*found this graffiti in Wilhelmshaven, Germany in 2017

Treading Lightly On The Soft Highway

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Treading lightly on the soft highway
Searching onward for the Earthbound divinity
Through the desert with the primal scream
Broken decibels ring out, yet amount to infinity

Silver pistol tucked in drawer of hosiery
Known to man only by a chintzy nom de plume
I always preferred a thick bottomed almanac
Slowed, but we have big energy to exhume

Dawn rises, yet the Truth still silently sleeps
Looking for prophets in the glittering sun
Too bright for our modern, mortal myopia
Be still; be patient as time is not yet overrun

Another Tepid Morning, Waiting Silently

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Another tepid morning, waiting silently
Dawn yet to break, but my head feels that way
These dog days lapse like a bit of purgatory
Standing before St. Patrick with nothing to say

Teetering & more than slightly confused
Checking my watch; praying its not too late
Did my heart stop? How did I go so astray
Jolted back- the Almighty’s nectar begins to percolate

Awake Early In The Naked, Teal Morning

Awake early in the naked, teal morning

Still wet from dancing in the rain

My subconscious kissing her femininity

But the memories remain love-stained

Her fingers gripping my shoulders

Our souls constantly trying to absorb

Soft, low moans quietly evident

I’m enchanted by her fleshy orbs

We’re exposed in the light of dawn

A realness that won’t be concealed

We have a glow of our own

No words exist, but a truth she can feel

The Tyranny Of Our Modern Age

 

The tyranny of our modern age
The repulsive nature of our exploited rights
Coming for us before the dawn
Another stolen soul in the night

But pump the brakes there Swamp Thing
Florida is basically the Outbreak Monkey
We can’t be too safe these days
Besides, a lot of y’all were already funky

I’ll be hunkered down, away from idiots
This blanket fort is causing me to itch
Stay home, so we can eventually go outside
Like Carole Baskin, the Covid is a bitch