Blowing the dust off our individuality
Making sure our hands have the proper grip
Clutching the pen to jot a delicate ode
Black coffee; bold inscriptions with each sip
Once awake, I turn to the written word
Exacting the notes conjured; never by rote
Lost with the margins of a fool’s errand
I’m quiet, but compassion might just be the antidote
To lick history off the back page
Ingesting dust spores & all that came before
Communing with the dead souls
Whose words are always coming back for more
Delirium induced by broken memories
Shudders left lacking in female attention
Visions remain long after waking
Thus resulting in fragile retention
Those ministrations forever known
Dusting off the scarred, forbidden plot
When did the journey cease to please
Chained to the past with defective thoughts
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
The rest of the world is frozen
Placed under Elsa’s frigid spell
But down here on the beaches
We’re out watching the swells
Sand dusted upon our tanned skin
With the sun hanging over us, high
Palm trees strung with Christmas lights
A warm day called winter, passes us by
Lighting the wicks on a rainy day
Blowing the dust off the vinyl
Finding comfort in the subtle tones
& knowing these days aren’t final
Seeing those palm lined drives
Standing out in the mist
Reassuring my lonely soul
& remembering lips I wish were kissed
Her love hidden in the liner notes
Buzz words & other incantations
Knowing she’s my answer
& becoming my perfect temptation
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
We’ve survived another night
I wake to pinks, purples & blues
The Almighty with a new creation
When She draped the sky in royal hues
Stretching, creaking & yawning
With chaos falling all around me
Rising slowly before dust settles
It’s time to pour myself fresh coffee
What I need is a good ol’ western storm
To wash out my soul
To cleanse these dusty roads
The low thunder returning me to whole
Celestial bodies writhe
She may not be an answer
But perhaps she’s the key
At the end of the Earth
You’ll find no more ground
Dust falling off the coast
Sail around for awhile
Nurture love & freedom
Return to find me here
Within her, I find truth
A value to be upheld
Know the stark secret
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
Captain Q 