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

Thought It To Be An Easy Read

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Thought it to be an easy read
Yet the words were hard to digest
Meaning dancing slowly in my mind
Subtly creeping past the singular rest

Retracing lines to navigate ritual
Where do we reform elegant words
Removed from obvious transparency
Heaped among the notorious & absurd

But we can still be returned to normal
Reassembled without any scars of the war
Truth absolved of the fictions we wrote
Back to the pages I quietly implore

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

I Wish To Whisper Elegant Tales

I wish to whisper elegant tales
They’ll allow you to follow me
Through the transfers of light
These are moments you’ll be free
I know you have never believed
In what I forever sought & dreamed
We could have been truly great
You always wanted better it seemed

Elegant Evenings; Long Gown Shimmering

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Elegant evenings; long gown shimmering
Cackling & racking back the slide
Uncomfortable theories in the moonlight
Recasting guilt on the day Jesus died

Some of us aren’t natural beauties
We must rely on intellectual fortitude
Ashamed to exist outside fantasy
Wishing for a more temperate latitude

Sweat pooling under our winks & grins
With anyone else, this would be a bummer
But I can’t get enough of your adventure
Basking in the pleasantries of a hot book summer

Red Lipstick & A Tight Ponytail

 

Red lipstick & a tight ponytail
The pretty piano player; a punk rockette
The domestic goddess with a need to be clean
Living on the edge of the cosmopolitain set

Hoarding her guilty pleasures fiercely
The moral ambiguity is a stubborn crutch
Ignoring nature’s perfectly placed laws
But she’ll only accept the light’s soft touch

Wearing an evening gown at her elegant leisure
Within her mind, no better way to take a selfie
She’s blunt with her standards & expectations
But lucky for us all, my poems are gluten free

 

Image by Kelsey Vere from Pixabay

There Are Many Fancy Writers

 

There are many fancy writers

Those who are great, they’ve decided

Elegant illustrations & plunging necklines

But hubris is often one-sided

There are many arrogant writers

Quick with the wit they’ve decried

Moans of pain suited to their fame

Loving with one eye open it’s often implied