Our Solemn Tales Of Passion & Woe

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Our solemn tales of passion & woe
My life is to slyly denote
Vigor sizzles quietly away
We try any which way but by rote

Always there to circumvent
Employing a nudist typist
But you get the gist eventually
You know, he was there to assist

You rushed out of my life & into the library
I still lust for you in that black dress
Never ashamed of how I feel
Surprised you expected any less

Life Should Have More Dancing

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Life should have more dancing
More twirls, laughs, dips, lifts & general glee
We can make anything happen
Once she comes home with me


A dream can be a reality if she believes
I know the passionate way I would hold her
My own heart pumping infinite love
Visions of slipping that dress off her shoulders


I wish to caress her by candlelight
Looking into my eyes, asking for more
Whispering all the things she wants
Dancing close until our bodies are sore

Those Matchbox Fantasies

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Those matchbox fantasies
Gunmetal grey panties with soft pink polka dots
She placed a stiletto on her wooden leg
Character assassination plots go all for naught
Unassuming by way of distraction
She’s hiding a switchblade under that dress
She’s dangerous down to her core
A beautiful woman – you don’t want to mess
Beware of their corrosive accolades
There’s no exoneration in the line of fire
She’s insolent about your theoretical love
In the end, she’s killed you with her underwire

That Time For Announcing A Thankful Heart

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That time for announcing a thankful heart
Admittedly, I’m luckier than I could know
I’m grateful for a cozy home to return to
She’s statuesque; putting on a show

A very fine housedress with cleavage peeking
I can tell they’re lonely, in need of my kisses
Alas, it’s not the time for anything more
She’s busy, my housewife, my missus

I take her in my arms with tenderness
This wasn’t the next task she had planned
But it’s rather chilly outside
How else shall I warm my cold hands

Saddle Up To The Counter

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Saddle up to the counter
Anxiety requiring a shot or two
Feeling warmth of liquid bliss
Slowly beginning to feel like you

Tension of these recent events
But knowing he’s always on your side
Methodically flirting for good measure
You’re aglow; his fair-haired bride

Hand in hand to go dance in the rain
Never letting storms dampen your night
Electric kisses & a dress clinging as it drips
It’s perfectly transparent; albeit no longer virginal white

I Caught You Outside In Your Slip

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I caught you outside in your slip
The gossamer wisps within my view
A ripe side of the ever lovely
I couldn’t help but stare at you

Running through a Summer rain
Racing to the steps of a Victorian porch
Draped in a thin dress of pale tulle
The heavy heart of a burning torch

Amid the seduction of incantations
I knew your illusions were clear
Transparent upon the fresh flesh
& I thought only my intentions were sheer

I always look where no one looks
Trying to see what no one is willing to see
Saturated; glory beyond Heaven’s bounty
I’m out here shooting for immortality

I’m Tired Of Being So Dry

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I’m tired of being so dry
In need of an outlet to release my brain
Creativity gone; leaving me stagnant
Building into a wreck of anxiety & pain

My thoughts stunted by vapid feelings
Finding myself too tense, filled with stress
Needing to drink from restorative waters
Like those I found under her dress

I’m Not Saying I Don’t Appreciate

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I’m not saying I don’t appreciate
A lady of Paris, Milan & back again
A smartly dressed woman of the Times
Inspiration for me to re-dip my pen

I’m not saying I don’t cherish
A bold woman who’s a little bossy
Nudity as art upon tasteful scales
Teasing me through 8 x 10 glossies

I’m merely submitting a formal request
Publicly provide the proper image of classy
Though once their prying eyes are shielded
I’m going to need you to be gratuitous & sassy

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

Dressed To Instantly Kill

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Dressed to instantly kill
No use for a Wonderbra
The sass in your hips
You’re clearly bourgeois

Dancing beside the bar
Telling me some dirty jokes
A subtle, seductive attitude
Smiling between the sly tokes

The band is still playing
Accustomed to rooms so plush
Focusing on my quiet charm
Your attention makes me blush

I’m trying to keep up
But I’ve only been with local girls
You lead me by the hand
& soon only wearing those pearls

Midnight’s A Fine Time To Take The Jacksonville Train

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Midnight’s a fine time to take the Jacksonville train
Rolling double boxcars to decide our fate
Gotta get back to my lover’s bedside
‘cause women like that don’t hardly wait

Been dreaming of her since the days of steam
Finely dressed woman with incalculable sense
I’m lagging behind schedules & timetables
Hindered by a world of devastating pretense

Spellbound, in the terminal cloister, trying to keep track
Our destiny dwindling, chanced by the tumble of dice
Fearing snake eyes when we need eleven
For lightning isn’t going to strike us down twice

Separation has me feeling on the edge of sincerity
Bleary eyes blinked time & again for some sanity
I’m not emotionally set up for these tribulations
Fear of failing, yet no marks upon my frivolous vanity

Memories of forgotten moments in the text
Perhaps it’s time for me to remain fully alert
But I can’t ignore how my insides churn
The notions of the woman so beautifully pert

It’s risky to return my heart for ante
Somewhere she’s loosening her bustle
This venture is getting out of hand
When she’s applying her legendary hustle

Pulling into the station, I know my lot
A few hours late; enough for passion to be reclaimed
I’ve tried my best, but crapped out again
In my weakness, I become loved; that’s when the angels came

Image by Khusen Rustamov from Pixabay

Typing, Hacking, Thinking – Smokin’ Hot

Typing, hacking, thinking – Smokin’ hot
Typing your best to empty all thought

Pouring your soul into force upon the keys
Your woman walks past with a dress above the knees

Now you can’t think or type or stammer straight
The hell with with deadlines – this one’s gonna be late

You pray to the spirits of procastrination or whatever you think of
Burn this project right now, sacrifice it in the name of love

A Palpable Desire

A palpable desire
Feeling it from deep within
Drowning my anxiety
Beneath 4 olives, vermouth & gin

Supposed to be a functioning adult
But I say bollocks to all that noise
It wasn’t all that long ago, still
Running the streets with the boys

Though I dress better now
The soul leaking through the cracks
My heart is a fragile commodity
Foreboding the oncoming attack

Emerging From The Night Of Lost Souls

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Emerging from the night of lost souls
A rough morning with make-up in your eyes
Playing with fire when you dressed like Hell
You believed the Devil when he whispered his lies
Another exhilarating night of sin extinguished
But your heart now belongs to the man of flames
You don’t remember how your dress got burnt
Or how your lovely chest was branded with his name

 

Image by Анастасия Гепп from Pixabay

Been Listening To Chet Baker All Day

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Been listening to Chet baker all day
A friend said it’d make me a better person
I’m closing my eyes while the sounds take over
I’m imagining a lost era

Every man knowing how to wear a suit
Every lady in a tailored dress

Mad Men fiction – but with a tangible feel

A stiff drink to calm my modern nerves
& realize I yearn for well dressed people

With manners.

Excuse Me, Miss

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Excuse me, Miss
I need help between the books
You look down your glasses at me
Don’t worry about their errant looks
You’re dressed mighty nice
I think it’s by the back shelves
It seems I’ve gotten us lost
Oh my, I think we’re by ourselves
I pull you in close
A hand sneaks under your skirt to play
You moan aloud; onlookers’ smile
Apparently we’re still on display

 

Image by Eli Digital Creative from Pixabay

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

Blue Skies Are Returning

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Blue skies are returning
We’re running headlong into Spring
Shake out all these Winter cobwebs
Let the sunshine wake my soul to sing

The flowers are returning to the earth
Seasons change and its turning warm
Let’s smile as we head outside
Time to stretch out your glorious form

Your dress looks lovely upon your skin
Alas, its time to remove some of these clothes
Let them fall away with Wintertime sadness
A blessing of rising mercury, Heaven knows

My thoughts are strikingly inappropriate
I suggest we blame it on this stifling heatwave
We’re in need of getting into the fresh air
To be free and once again unabashedly misbehave

Frayed Cuff On Antique Khaki

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Frayed cuff on antique khaki
Knowing thy state of dress
I wasn’t as dapper as she was used to
Hoping she wouldn’t think any less

He wasn’t any better than a prig
Her dance card drawing sideways looks
Quietly, she enjoyed my wicked tongue
& the way we shared our crooked books

Shaking the dust off our neglected spines
Certain steps lead to an awkward courtship
But faith in the power of pristine passion
That’s when I met her puckered cherry lips

Textured Mornings

Textured mornings
Sitting around waiting on the French press
Remnants of dreams & pleas
Filtered through a truncated dress
Beneath lies details
Of scattered lace & bows
But in the end, emotion far outweighs my prose

Counting All My Cufflinks

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Counting all my cufflinks

You tied my perfect tie

Another night by the bay

Lost within the foggy sky

Seeming to float as you walk

Affection rose by a mere kiss

Evening air cool upon your soul

Never knew we could be like bliss

Your dress flailing behind

Setting down an opaque trail

Everything a dream could be

Forever wrapped by the sail

 

SkyFall

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It’s not a crime to be pretty
Wearing rented dresses, searching for a breadwinner
Socialites & other plastic people
No redeeming qualities, but she wants to be thinner
Her vagina will accept almost anything
Whether it be dollars, pounds, marks or kroner
A consummate professional at all times
She expects to be well paid for every geriatric boner
You don’t look gift whores in the mouth
Searching for a sugar daddy, anyone will do
Sitting in the bullpen, hoping to get promoted
Waiting to pluck her next victim, how many already gone through
That swath leaving nothing to the imagination
Offended when the whispers mention a gold digger
Everyone can spy those silicone scars
Next time she’ll go a couple of cups bigger
Sucking more than the marrow out of life
She’s trading her youth for money & security
But once tarnished, innocence forever besmirched
Time is constantly magnifying all your impurities
There are certain priorities in this life
A father must keep his daughters off the pole
But something much less discussed nowadays
What do you do once she grew without a soul
This scene is littered with heinous & fickle creatures
Cloaked, it slowly begins to scandalize & appall
Men with large billfolds & absolutely no shame
It’s the current failure of society & they call it Skyfall

 

 

 

*sorry, feeling quite caustic today