I may be an eccentric lover
Quirks, kinks & otherwise secrets of sensual scale
The deliberate & passionate engagement
Though a mere man; my love will never fail
I May Be An Eccentric Lover
deliberate
Wipe This Life Down With Bleach
I’m gonna wipe this life down with bleach
My words deconstructing Samson’s beams
While I slowly & deliberately devour your peach
Alas, you discovered too late I was the man of your dreams
I’m Not A Joiner
I’m not a joiner
I’m deliberately choosing not to join your group
Breaking free of these inconsistencies
Past sins & missteps on an endless loop
I inherently distrust any gathering of people
Seeing we’re doomed to live out the follies of youth
We lost our way & never came back
Now spurned forward by the allure of truth
I’m Working On A Deliberate Sound
I’m working on a deliberate sound
Tracking a feeling I’ve never found
Filtering & distilling a final abstract
Like passion was some sort of artifact
They’re still searching for their good luck
Let us dance holes in our old school Chucks
No need to worry about their errant thoughts
Let me strip naked – for I’m kinda hot
With the beat down to your toes
Secrets of my soul, I’ll cautiously expose
The Impossibilities Of Transcribing The Heart
The impossibilities of transcribing the heart
Finding the usual tricks do less than impress
Flustered; tripping over language
Like when you see Summer’s first sundress
Yet we still have to exist in nature
Bodies moving slowly as the sun rises
Love’s hibernation deliberately stretched
The disguises that passion often emphasizes
Cautiously keeping patience in this heat
As the mercury continuously expands
Rushing to the shore to discover relief
Risking the mirage & being burnt by the sand
Liberation Granted By The Morning Alarm
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
Vibrations Coursing Through Your Corset
Vibrations coursing through your corset
Am I still making you nervous, my dear
Does your heart beat louder in that chest
Whenever I come near
Walk slowly across the room to me
Let me watch your beauty in motion
The deliberate steps in those heels
Your passion overtaking the ocean
Admiring the view of your new tights
You spoil me something mighty, Miss
My love has never been more obvious
I’ll explain it all through this kiss
We’re Going Streaking!: 365
Now That I’m Old…
Now that I’m old, there’s no chance to be cool
I’m that creepy lurker passing the delicates isle
Finding myself lost in nebulous thought
Youth dropping their eyes while I try to smile
You can’t be friendly when you’re a certain age
Somewhere along the line, I missed my cue
Oblivious to the graffiti on the decaying walls
I’m slowly dying, more with each day that’s through
Stuck before I can be the wisened old fellow
Conversations with alter egos as I deliberate
Taunting life with my aggressive apathy
Father Time impatiently waiting for my cryptic fate
A litmus test for fragile character upon my days
Emerging from adulthood with wisdom in my head
Never again a victim to society’s whims
Pushing past expectations; my own hero instead
Rising higher than their own trite requirements
Still not accepted & still the silly old fool
Sketchy, weird & perpetually the outcast
Damn, there went my last chance to finally be cool
Empty Wine Bottles Clink; Devoid Of All Inspiration
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
Transfiguring Lips Into Fabergé Petals
Transfiguring lips into Fabergé petals
Feeling decadent painting the night sky
Let us rejoice with our illustrious words
Palpitating deliberately when bliss is nigh
These fanciful & bountiful thoughts of yonder
Possibly plentiful but not quite enough for us
Imaginative; creating a softer substantial side
We’re most serene when we’re a bit mussed
I’m Seeking A Truth
I’m seeking a truth within these fragmented words
My thoughts won’t cooperate with how my fingers move
Typing on this old handmedown machine to transform
My mundane existence into a magical, deliberate groove
I am not afraid to expose the flesh of a wilted soul
There are no heroes in these parts, just broken misanthropes
Internalizing the segmented society & all the villains
Returning to coffee so black the void regains precious hope
Captain Q 