Wet Sunday Mornings

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Wet Sunday mornings
Grass still damp from the rain
Fresh air still cool to the touch
Rising without a hint of pain

Voluptuary visions upon a treasured bond
Hoping we might become bosom buddies
Remotely fond of the Bon Vivant’s taste
When I proposed to you in the study

My parochial quips; unacceptable in polite society
Profane & unprintable odes to her formidable posterior
Writing what catches my mind’s eye
I can’t help it if my motives might be ulterior

Vice & folly are complimentary rectitudes
But please stop staring at the lady’s chest
There’s only so much to explain away
& no one cares the origin of your Preppy crest

Tell me what constitutes good head
With my mind clinging to her curves
These dreams; had their own Silicone Valley
Yet, when she speaks I’m a pile of nerves

Boxing Day is the day for cunninglingus
Cauliflower ear from her thighs
Witnessing nature’s perfect curvature
Nonperishable lust eschews the dandy’s lie

Vanity is fundamentally unstable
Draping you in silks & laces so gaudy
New souls full of an easy virtue
Just know, how badly I want your bawdy

My Words Not Yet Upon The Honorable Shelf

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My words not yet upon the honorable shelf
Needing to be written before displayed
Returning to the beginner’s mind
Where a fresh outlook might be relayed

The quiet intent of seeking wisdom
But maybe we could apply it
Without toxic soapbox rhetoric
No use in deflecting nor to deny it

Navigating the rows of knowledge
The sheer beauty of words, staked by reams
Our hearts insulated from reality
By the rumination of our dreams

Sheep In Wolves’ Clothing

Sheep in wolves’ clothing
Alone in the natural spirals
A delicate peace teetering
In a time when hate’s gone viral

A profound wilderness
With the Shepherd long forsaken
Truth & reason at risk
With Faith’s foundations shaken

Does compassion still exist
Love faltering/dreams now monochrome
The Devil removing his mask
Once he’s comfortably at home

Feeling A Great Need To Create

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Feeling a great need to create
This is a crazy world today
When will we ever thrive when
We don’t remember what we say

Hidden slowly in your dreams
Reality hinders our solutions
Time tocks against us now
Feeling abstract absolution

Who Are You When You Aren’t The Woman Of My Dreams?

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Who are you when you aren’t the woman of my dreams?
Slight hesitation in the shimmer of your cocktail dress
Writing poetry when we should be making love
In a world of tragedy, how’d I become this blessed?

Smelling Of Lukewarm Coffee & Disillusion

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Smelling of lukewarm coffee & disillusion
Rough mornings coming from too little sleep
Nightmares of our mutual defaulted dreams
Yet you weren’t rumored to be that deep

Stagnant when we were supposed to be more
Odd vibrations upon the last & final pew
Still looking for Her among mismatched notes
But she can make old poems smell brand new

Intense.

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Intense.
Uncontrollably shake your foot
Another morning wide awake
Experience as black as soot

We can only be who we are
No sense living in the past tense
These are the ramifications
Blinded to your own suspense

I know who we once were
Though they are now gone
Not victim to anything
Excuses made you the pawn

Shed these moments of hate
Bringing you down another level
Dreams of agony by default
Embraced, but slightly disheveled

Regroup at the breakfast table
Another chance to forever adjust
Calming thoughts to carry through
After all, we’re merely cosmic dust

I Still See You When I Sleep

I still see you when I sleep
Heroine of my iridescent dreams
Basking in the rays of moonlight
Proving love exists between the seams

Marching forward into my mind
Catching lightning in a crystal ball
I am consumed by your beauty
Together we tumble, one for all

Unplugging From The Mainframe

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Unplugging from the mainframe
Remaining forever off the grid
Don’t need their connections
Don’t know if we ever truly did

The final tragic hero of a modern culture
The soul survivor of a discarded revolution
Histories & experience outside the norm
Dreams of freedom with divine attribution

Dealing with the conceits of perfection
The concepts of loneliness & betrayal
This world isn’t what we were promised
Token hints lost behind a fractured veil

The answers are hidden beyond this life
It may look bleak, but don’t you fret
We have the Source of Light
& they’re still riding that ol’ dialup internet

The Infinity Of Love

The infinity of love
The entirety of a single breath
Odd footnotes to a shapely evening
After kissing the feet of Sister MaryBeth
The important ones are those you forgot
Distant notes too unbelievable to remember
But there’s a gravity to these infatuations
Still wearing Fair Isle, though it no longer December
Our dreams aren’t always tangible by birth
Effort & perseverance required, but you can’t relate
You won’t know it, but it’s worth the heartache
We’re doomed to live our days as humans & it’s called fate

Please Don’t Question My Reality

Please don’t question my reality
You’re pandering to a common goal
I’m eradicating acute boredom
Freeing another fractured soul

Redefining fantasy on a personal level
The subtle witness under the veil
Finding happiness outside expectation
Wishing our dreams weren’t so frail

Watching The Condensation Seep Into The Desk

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Watching the condensation seep into the desk
I think of the glories that have gone away
The ice melting/mixing into my single malt
I’ve been nervous, but I’m okay by the end of the day

These days weren’t the ones we’ve been dreaming of
Idealistic thoughts when we were on foreign shores
Imagining celebrities dancing in their formalwear
Fancy & festive role models displayed forevermore

Upon the big screen & locked into our minds
Americana lost & the golden age of Hollywood
Stoking the passion of our fervid imaginations
Inspiring our dreams like nothing else ever could

Our hopes & desires abandoned & hung out to dry
March realizations our fantasies are mere celluloid
The cold night, withering on the streets alone
Upon the credits, leaving the theater broke & into the void

Wipe This Life Down With Bleach

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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

Where Is My Absurd Little Coffee This Morn

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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’ll Take My Coffee Black

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I’ll take my coffee black
Darker than my dreams
Wake from this slumber
Shake her from the reams

Low Evenings Persistently Intrude

Low evenings persistently intrude
Fancy parties & sensitive souls
Facades draped in lush decor
Strong mixed spirits don’t leave you full

Trashy nights with unseen acquaintances
Low cut blouses & nylon dreams in heels
Witnessing dancers locked in solitude
Push away the day
We don’t need another slow reveal

Those Ebina Slums Are More Nervous

Those Ebina slums are more nervous
Than a pair of skinned cats
I don’t remember you warning me
But you couldn’t have known that

In the end, these experiences
Won’t amount to all that much
They’ll dissipate with the wind
Gone with the ghosts & such

You may struggle with a rose
Striking hard against your bone
Sunshine guides your dreams
Days encompassing your unknown

*poem written circa 2008

*photo taken circa 2022

Walking Down The Street On All Saints’ Day

Walking down the street on All Saints’ Day
Victrolas on display at the corner store
A flirtatious greeting with the local beauty
She always smiles, but never asks for more

You’ve created another aura within her
Casting her as red-blooded in your pulp fantasy
A polite lady with those vicious high heels
Mental interludes without consent, it seems to me

Take your dreams & exit stage left
You tried to court & failed, life’s not fair
Let a true gentleman whisper elegant words
She’ll open up her passion, exposing her silky pair

I Don’t Use Umbrellas, Dear

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I don’t use umbrellas, dear
I’d rather dance in the rain
Let it cascade gently over
Cleansing us of lingering pain
Let me take you in my arms
Into your dreams – my words will push
Looking deep into my eyes
As I squeeze your tush

Discarded Waves Of Soft Dreams

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Discarded waves of soft dreams
Mislabeled by errant letter placement
Leaving bookmarks for posterity
Undue reams of self-abasement

Lighting dry wicks by morning
That sadness- we might alleviate
Exploring incantations in words
For a soul’s thirst to invigorate

We Kept Dancing

We kept dancing

Long after the record stopped spinning

On the verge of your dreams

The fire’s low; the air is thinning

What happens tomorrow 

& long after we’ve awoken

Will these dreams ever return

Will this spell be forever broken

The Carcasses Of Inspiration

 

The carcasses of inspiration
Wine glasses with Burgundy residue
Speaking to late nights & early mornings
Scribbles in the margin on the follow through
Feeling parched as I wake
Noticing your lipstick stains
Upon the rim of the glass
Reminding me of the dreams that remain
Bleary eyed, drinking the coffee grounds
Searching for a fate within the dregs
Fumbling over these typewriter keys
Lightheaded when I see your naked legs
Your smile is a distraction
But you pop a button & then one more
I’m at your complete mercy
Once the nightgown hits the floor

Image by TastyCinnamonn from Pixabay

 

I’m Drinking Scalding Coffee

I’m drinking scalding coffee
To shake me from these dreams
I’m taking the hottest shower
The burn revives from the steam

This warmth spreads deeper yet
Cohering to my restless bones
After another cup of darkness
Maybe then I won’t feel so alone

Don’t Forget To Repeat Our Truth In Unison

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Don’t forget to repeat our truth in unison
Stand up straight with proper military bearing
Forget your conscience; such things are done
Keep on moving toward the triumph of the daring

Unfurl the banners so that we might recite
Let the people know what we’re fighting for
Light the fires, so the boys may march by night
Let them live out their dreams in the glories of war

Remain focused- don’t live within your heads
For the battle is real, so is the carnage by the blade
You need to stay loyal or your sons will wind up dead
Listen to the drums, forget the thoughts we’ve forbade

This existence is painful, but hell will be hotter
Don’t return with blood soaked memories to spurn
Live up to the fullest; embrace the full-bodied slaughter
Raise your swords to the sky & let the traitors burn

The Sultan Of Suntan

The sultan of suntan
Smelling like oils & lotions
Sand clinging to your soul
Cleansed by the water’s motion

Purged of evaporating dreams
We can focus on existence
Wringing it all out
At love’s steadfast insistence

All secrets illuminated
Nothing remains within
Cover of cheap shades
Truth permeates the skin

I Saw Her Through The Glittering Sun

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I saw her through the glittering sun
Perched high upon the lifeguard stand
Perfectly sculpted under bright sky
Knees weak, tripping in the soft sand

The gulls echoing a distant cry
Dreams of love & what could be
The salt air marinating upon our skin
I’ve lost my heart here upon the sea

Hymns For Modern Children

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Hymns for modern children
A return to morbid fairytales
Truth being slowly digested
Compassion when beauty fails

Lost in this troubled society
Where equality goes to die
Slaughtered dreams
& a speck in your brother’s eye

Life can be tough, harsh even
It seldom matters if you’re right
Morality often seems hijacked
& then they bid you a sweet goodnight

Creep Villanelle

Resisting the urge to flatter
Never taking such a leap
Beauty the heart of the matter
Ignored in your idle chatter
Left feeling like a forgotten heap
Resisting the urge to flatter
The thoughts come, but soon scatter
Keeping me from peaceful sleep
Beauty the heart of the matter
Love served on a silver platter
A tarnished memory much too cheap
Resisting the urge to flatter
My soul simmered to splatter
But our dreams aren’t that deep
Beauty the heart of the matter
Your image makes me all a-patter
Never wanting to come off as a creep
Resisting the urge to flatter
Beauty the heart of the matter

Within Doctrines Of The Former Realms

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Within doctrines of the former realms
Secular atonements when you cannot reap
Our distorted narratives no longer at the helm
Parched souls shudder when you cannot sleep

Notebooks wrapped in twine, lubricating my dreams
Thinly veiled entitlements, rushing to meet the golden hour
Misplaced refugees; tugging on our heart seams
Stomp on rose colored lenses/before the vine turns sour

Standing tall amidst populism, still reading banned books
Rejecting capitalism before you win a shopping spree
Your enemy’s dilemma might be worth a look
While upholding the realization of love’s prophesy

Embracing goblets of celebratory wine & errant notes
Time to return to glory; fire dance upon wooden boats

It’s Not About Me

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It’s not about me
Focus away from my chipped soul
Fragile dreams creaked as I reach daylight
Caught in our midsummer’s lull

Drinking wine out of a teacup
This soul embarrassing when exposed
Hoping to numb our sensibilities
While we lay naked & juxtaposed

Finding Refuge In My Dreams

Finding refuge in my dreams
Traipsing through Baudelaire’s flowers
I sing a silent dirge to my soul
Tracing her petals within Summer’s shower

Caught in the currents of missteps
Former words no longer voiced
Lightness of a delicate vision
We heard the morning’s rain rejoice

Politely declining a dreadful umbrella
Walking out, always been man enough to weep
Soaked; tears all the way through
Drowning; maybe now the sunset will let me sleep

The Passing Of Time Is A Mixed Blessing

St.Albans Cathedral – Tomb of Saint Alban by Martin Addison is licensed under CC-BY-SA 2.0

The passing of time is a mixed blessing
Tapping your foot with your vision blurred
Doing our best, but remaining guilty
Still searching for a way to be cured

Wrapping wrists around the tarnished rosary
Youthful dreams faded from when I wanted to be a saint
My heart still ticks, albeit a little weaker
Remembering those days, but the voices now faint

I Never Said I Was Good At This

I never said I was good at this
I have no fancy training or school
I just close my eyes & spill my soul
Without any regard if it will be cool

I’m a bush league hack at my best
Wandering my way through eternity
Endless reams within your dreams
But I’ll never be a victim of your modernity

I’m Not Anywhere Near Perfect

I’m not anywhere near perfect
Contrary to your fictitious notions
Examining me through a skewed lens
Though I’ve been cleansed by the ocean

I’m not what you think you want
Flawed in all the wrong places
Underlining fragility & a fractured soul
But you’re still focused on the pretty faces

I can’t explain all the improper deviations
I’m not what you’ve wished you might discover
You’ve transcribed me into a possibility
But I’m already tethered to my perpetual lover

Don’t sacrifice your dreams
For what probably won’t ever be
Hold tight to your illusions
For only then can life set you free

Waking Early Before The Morning



Waking early before the morning
Monitoring the world, as I sip my achromatic brew
The front window, my porthole to beyond
From this security, I decipher what is true

I try to formulate tangible creations
Converting inspiration into mere words
Observations from my suburban perch
Sharing stories with Poe’s bleak-hued bird

Writing down the secrets she might share
Enlivening my dreams on this quiet block
Churning thoughts into hopeful spools
In which might allow my mind to dynamically unlock

Disturbed Themes & Distant Thrombosis

Disturbed themes & distant thrombosis
A hitch in your giddy-up when it’s time for tea
Transcendental visitations
From dreams may come answers to our makeshift reality

Pouring over the brackish tomes with devotion
Gentlemen & ladies of letters; luminaries of thought
But truth doesn’t cure our limited capacities
Bare harbingers of the illiterations we’ve wrought

We’ve taken ill in our posh-marked libraries
Leaving fingerprints on memories we loved the most
We maunder through our raging debates
Knowing full well they’re all books about ghosts

Darkness creeps in on our musty resolve
Syntax prescribed with an utmost surgical query
Descending by the light of our candelabra
If we survive, we’ll be counted amidst the weary

Dreams Of Pretty Dancing Girls

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Dreams of pretty dancing girls
Tartan skirts & gold buckles on their shoes
Legs draped in such fine stockings
High kicks, but treasure out of view

The fantasy of a joyous party
Spirited music playing a bit loud
Fiddles & bagpipes; what a scene
You pulled me out of the dense crowd

Beauty of drinking black beer all day
My stature begins to slightly tilt
You quietly asked me for a light
But there’s no pockets in this kilt

Envisioning what the night might bring
Is it possible that you could be this real
Sharing a pint in a secluded corner
A second Guinness is considered a meal

William Butler Yeats

“But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.” – William Butler Yeats

Image by Brin Weins from Pixabay

Dark Clouds Forming Over The Horizon

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Dark clouds forming over the horizon
Storms threaten to assuredly comply
A day drifting away without recourse
Dreams hang-dogged in the evening sky

The slow buildup to another slumber
I tried to be reasonable, but I think too deep
Took a leap, but might’ve been too far
In the end, relegated to remaining the black sheep

Be Careful When You’re Out In The Woods

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Be careful when you’re out in the woods
Dancing under the fairies & good folk
Between the dreams & murky mists
Listening to every single word we spoke

There are no secrets when you’re here
You become one with the falling leaves
Magic & Pixie Dust in the air
Before you ever see, you must first believe

Oh, Where Does Our Journey End

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Oh, where does our journey end
Or begin, as it so often might seem
Futile attempts to erase the past
The unknown details of our dreams

The open road panders to a false escape
The mere opportunity to rewrite a sojourn
Jesus perambulating with Uncle Walt
Debating the path; perchance to learn

Shaky prospects in apportioned time
Manifest destiny teases Ginsburg & Kerouac
Further roads leading to ornate wisdom
& we keep it concealed out in the back

Thoreau mocking society with his solitude
Knowing alone is the greatest we could ever be
Thoughts come to us in gentle waves
That perhaps our visions should become the sea

A reinterpretation of westward expansion
Route 66 cross-contaminating Highway 61
All roads have never led us home
Emily tempting Death with her life left undone

The growing wisdom of our consumed space
Emerson’s penning pre-revolutionary blues
Introducing our souls to unrefined grace
The Good Lord providing Her unfiltered muse

Feeble humanity; lost across the tracks
Original sin that we’ve taken on the chin
Sifting thought; we might be welcomed again
But knock off the Devil’s dust before you come in

Walking Quietly Along The Dusty Rows

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Walking quietly along the dusty rows
I’ve forgotten dreams, but that’s how it goes
Bought the leather bound tome for 35 quid
Trying to uncover God, but she remains hid
Secret to life on the page, but that’s all anyone knows

Dreams & Fates Return Forthwith

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Dreams & fates return forthwith
Stars falling from under her dress
Elegantly raised up from her seat
Floating lightly with each soft caress

The town is alive tonight
Her body spun upon her painted toes
A culmination of efforts built upon
The bunched cloth forgotten in the throes

The Winter Winds Keep Us Bundled

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The Winter winds keep us bundled
Sending us shivering & reeling
Dreams of a warm drink by the hearth
Caught up in those distant feelings

Our checklists remain unchecked
Hustle, bustle & we’re forever hurried
There must be a moment to calm ourselves
To enjoy coffee in the midst of this flurry

But The Simple Fact Is Grace Is Unearned

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But the simple fact is grace is unearned
We live our lives as if we’re undeterred
Ignorant to sin & repercussions thereafter
Yet hoping for the winds to remain unstirred

Truth & love are bound to our dreams
The inconvenient reality of the harsh pain of day
Trudging through our irksome tasks
Bright light stuns us into a stuttering delay

Fall to your knees in complete repentance
Submit your soul to the warmth of His sunshine
Release the burden of mortal expectation
Forever embrace the perfect love of the Divine

But Our Dreams Drip

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But our dreams drip
Memories frothing to the surface
Unknown to the exterior
Remnants of our innocence Miss

Complications of misinterpretations
Dwelling in this unfailing mess
Stepping gently away at this time of night
Always remember you in that short gingham dress

Transparent Dresses Hanging In The Mud Room

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Transparent dresses hanging in the mud room
Saran-Wrapped for mild protection
Eyes closed to foreign tales
Tempered thoughts of stifled affection

Painted prose with regurgitated eyes
Our dreams left choking on the floor
Scribbling beliefs with thick gouges
Manufactured truth with cries of Nevermore

Redundant weight of classical heroes
Forcing us into bastardized Groupthink
Yet my mind still wanders to her opaque passion
Chasing her dragon with endless ink

I’m No Hero

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I’m no hero
Just trying to make it through the night
Terrors & dreams haunting me
Still, daylight expects a man of might

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

She Takes Off Her Horn-Rimmed Glasses

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She takes off her horn-rimmed glasses
She rubs her eyes, “what a mess”
I take her in my arms, whispering,
“It’s time to remove this dress”

I send her towards a waiting bath
Time to reconstitute our dreams
I love that woman something fierce
I smirk, planning the night’s schemes

Let’s Go Get Lost

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Let’s go get lost
Under the towering trees
Let’s go lose our way
Where Redwoods meet the sea

Let’s close our eyes
& let Mother Nature steer
Let’s never come back
No dreams left for us here

Looking For A New Sunshine

Looking for a new sunshine
Eclipses as the morning grows
Coffee slowly loses its warmth
The way only the fatigued might know

Sleepless nights convort to visions
Dreams well placed into our eyes
Caffeine not enough to shake souls
Waking to these cotton candy skies

Spinning my empty cup on the table
Attempts at any fully formed thought
My mind completely wiped clean
I spy my woman’s naked form; damn she’s hot!

Middle Of the Ocean Blues

Paddling around the remotest parts
Looking for hope where there’s no merriment
Our souls evaporating in the open air
Put through this vise of a social experiment
Living out here minus the love & support
There’s only so much a man can endure
Mother Nature whirling up the darkest storms
Blowing away my dreams I’m terribly sure

Hey, hey, hey, pretty mama
Please send me some news
It’s lonesome out here
I’ve got the middle of the ocean blues

Thankful for a little spit of dry land
Feeling a bit wobbly & out of sorts
Having a nice cold one under a palm
Time to recharge my batteries in this port
Soon enough, we’ll be back floating
Feeling the Earth’s rotation upon this burn
Long days of sweat & toiling work
Wearing my body out before I return

Hey, hey, hey, pretty mama
Please send me some news
It’s lonesome out here
I’ve got the middle of the ocean blues

You Don’t Think You’re Beautiful

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You don’t think you’re beautiful
Because of the pain you feel inside
Existence finds itself with a teetering lull
The path to happiness merely not identified

But you need to write your own dreams
Never settle for what others might demand
Seek out adventure & self-discovery
Find the surprising beauty of the unplanned

Finding An Edge To Life

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Finding an edge to life
Loose thread; ripping out the seams
Setting out for an independent life
No purpose if they’re not your dreams

Perplexing choices to those
Who forgot to shake in quaking fear
You hope to wither in the memory
Of these who are content to remain here

She’s Watching Me

She’s watching me
Trying to act shy & coy
She wants me to think
I’ll be her very first boy

She’s loving me
Sold on a negative trip
Acting so confident
Notice her exposed slip

She’s needing me
What a beautiful mess
Pick up her dreams
& her fallen dress

I’m Tired Of All The Mouthpieces & Talking Heads

 

I’m tired of all the mouthpieces & talking heads
I don’t trust anything on the network news
Congress & corporations are intertwined
Aimed at denying our dreams if they could choose
But I’m not going to buy into their systems
I’m not going to line up for them to call me by name
We have to figure out a better way
Or we’ll all be taken under by institutionalized shame
I don’t want to live in a world propelled by evil
I believe this hateful environment is only getting hotter
Can we not treat our neighbors as equals
What kind of world are we leaving for our daughters?

Quiet Practice Of Language

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Quiet practice of language
Where saints lay desecrated
Discarded words & their meanings
Grizzled by dreams we’ve created

Continuing on is our only option
In spite of our demon’s desires
Internal resolve beats steadily
Rising once more; trial by fire

I’m So Happy, I’ll Dance You A Jig

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I’m so happy, I’ll dance you a jig
With my eyes open, these dreams so big

Still living this life with childhood eyes
Truth always revealed as the tears dried

Sailing ships, battered by wind & storm
Ignoring reason, logic & the accepted norm

Life gets hectic, it’s often a terrible mess
Never grow up, push past into happiness

Fairy influence & the magic it might behold
Let us go now & create a story that’s yet untold

Where love & insanity will always meet
The freedom within our wild heartbeats

Close your eyes, finding something lost
Your favorite memory forever embossed

Tossed into slumbering pages of a book
Captive audiences held by Captain Hook

The golden cutlass, the prize of his plunder
Sharp, but wit marks our Boy Wonder

The best things in life are never planned
Without remorse, we return to Neverland

A Creative Declaration Of Independence

 

A creative declaration of independence
We broadcast we won’t go quietly without a fight
Announcing to this fractured society
That, together, we’ll destroy all that isn’t right

The artists & dreamers of the world annex the ether
We claim control of the world’s grasp of our dreams
Through love & imagination, we’ll find a true peace
& we’ll forever disintegrate your hate, right at the seams

While We Were Off Sleeping

 

While we were off sleeping
The rains whipped themselves up in a squall
The flowers rose from their dormant stature
We were left to discover what never was at all
Stripped away our delinquent delusions
Forced to find the truth of this precipitation
Life is a fragile balance of our dreams
Love draws us close while fusing our imaginations

 

Image by dexmac from Pixabay

I Have Stacks Of Unused Paper

I have stacks of unused paper
Like the untouched dreams in my head
We all have the forks in our roads
But often take the easier path instead

So many distractions in my way
To give in to them would leave me mundane
I don’t wish to live an ordinary existence
I’d much rather push the envelope & become insane

The results always lead to the same ending
We’ll all wander into death before we’re through
I don’t want to take a straight line to get there
I hope to zig, all the while forever holding onto you

Ignore My Fantastic Ideas

Ignore my fantastic ideas
For they come out in reams
Please close your eyes
Lest you believe in dreams

My Love Is Uncompromising

 

My love is uncompromising
I want you & only you
For the rest of my life
Making our dreams come true

 

Image by Andry Richardson from Pixabay

Strapped Into A Mourning Gown

 

Strapped into a mourning gown
That might survive our winter garden
Rebasing all these dreams
This predicament has begun to harden;
I beg your pardon
Slowly peeling off your layers
Caught us in a lightning storm
Feeling excited electricity
Between our adrenalized forms
Standing naked before the darkness
Illuminated only by midnight flashes
Perfection within a moment
Emotion dripping from your eyelashes

There’s A Difference

 

There’s a difference
In what we’ve seen
You’ve sat idly
I’ve been in the machine
The belly & the bowels
Breathing fire & steam
I’ve stood the watch
While you’ve had pleasant dreams

Looking For A Tepid Note

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Looking for a tepid note
Passion hinted in the scrawl
Something lost that night
When we last lovingly balled
One eye never shuts now
Always searching for you
No dreams to rile or navigate
I’m wandering without a clue

Unfolding Broken Dreams

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Unfolding broken dreams
The distant & diluted flow
Our hopeless choices astound
The truth? We still don’t know

But we can never give up
Clinging to the last of our visions
Memories cultivated on dark nights
Leaving us exposed with obvious incisions

How do you translate a morning
When your soul bears undiagnosed pain
Scars from a life well lived
For in the end, disillusioned cannot remain

A Woman Not Marked

A woman not marked, boiled in thought
Slowly escaping melancholy with each sip
Sitting, staring out her kitchen window
Contentious dreams emitted from parted lips

Coffee can stimulate a bored mind
The house to be prepared for a festive banquet
A morose morning, lingering in the cool air
Providing a bounty for the Heavenly set

Wading Through Seawater In Your Dress

Wading through seawater in your dress
Clinging to your delicious curves
Exposing the universe to me
Standing at attention; all my nerves

You’re the anomaly of this world
Virtue & flexibility of our seams
Wrap your legs around my mind
Allow me the most sensuous dreams

Never to rejoin this delinquent society
Let me lead you with hands on your hips
To paradise removed from their hate
With nothing but flirtation on your lips

Gimme sass with a shake of that ass
Raising toasts to love in a crystal chalice
Our passion overflows conventional wisdom
Since I’m directed by the sapience of my phallus

I promise to hold you close all our days
& to occasionally provide your kind of cuddle
But I’ll always do that thing you like so well
The one that never fails to leave you in a puddle

Life Isn’t As Perfect As We Make It Seem

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Life isn’t as perfect as we make it seem
It gets a little messy outside our dreams
But newly rise in the early morning hours
Sex sweat/coffee fueled; ready for a shower
Time to live – life isn’t somethin’ you can stream

Our Olden Fantasies

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Our olden fantasies
Not quite matching casual conversation
The heart’s silent secrets
Masked by our gilded incantations

A kind smile to hide our fears
The dreams left by the tragic shore
But there’s always a way back home
To drink from the hopeful waters to finally restore

Swapping Daisy Buchanan For Lady Brett

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Swapping Daisy Buchanan for Lady Brett
Dreams & visions traded for a martini glass
The swirls of ice resemble their hearts
The disappearing notion of the dignified class
So we raise a toast for decent luck
These three olives constitute her daily menu
Dancing off silently out onto the veranda
Subtly becoming her own performance venue

Maybe Those Were The Days

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Maybe those were the days
I wasn’t so perfect, structured or neat
Rebelling against all humanity
Couldn’t tell the difference in defeat
A crooked line to follow
A wrinkled brow upon the figurehead
Our dreams fractured when applied
Lost within reality’s pragmatism instead

Our Dreams Hold Us Hostage

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Our dreams hold us hostage
Chained to our high ideals
Lost to our intemperate youth
The past reaches out & steals
Time lost to us; never again
What’s forgotten can’t be regained
Our lives are our creation
Figments we’ll never fully explain

I Poured You Copious Amounts Of Wine

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I poured you copious amounts of wine
Frank was singing ‘The Lady Is A Tramp’
We danced until you went home on the train
Your dreams ended up being quite damp

Those Words Come To Me In Those Coffee Dreams

 

Those words come to me in those coffee dreams
A spontaneous marvel of literary delight
There’s a difference between manufactured beauty
& a real beauty, founded by nature’s authentic right
But I can’t explain the nuances with the definition
I’m not one to judge such subjective whims
Focusing on my own qualms & dangling thoughts
Let us sit, pour another cup, let’s solve these problems
I’m not bothered by such trifling issues as rules
Let them worry about my intents & being misconstrued
I let my chosen pages explain all I’m willing to
I’m more concerned if that pot has finished it’s brew

Robert Hunter

“…mercy’s a business, I wish it for you
More than just ashes when your dreams come true…”

-Fire On The Mountain- Grateful Dead, words by Robert Hunter

Frida Kahlo

 

“They thought I was a Surrealist, but I wasn’t. I never painted dreams. I painted my own reality.” – Frida Kahlo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Image by Jinali Parikh from Pixabay

William Butler Yeats

“But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.” – William Butler Yeats

Image by Brin Weins from Pixabay

Never Smart Enough

Never smart enough to succeed
My numb fingers worked to the bone
Dreams of providing a good life
But I need another path to be shown