Sitting here at the end of the world Running my fingers through the sand Watching the weight of the waves Finally time is a theory I can understand
Stripped down without societal guilt Seeking answers down along the shore Confused it took me all these years Yet, that doesn’t mean there isn’t still more
On the shores of Ol’ Patagonia While the citizens did sleep Youthful fear of affection Yet into the woods, they silently creep
Don’t let on how you feel For you might get what you want The pain of admitting you care & perchance it might forever haunt
The burden of carrying embarrassment & possibly feeling regret this long Thy youth’s clear true love But hindsight tells me I was wrong
For I wasn’t brave enough to trust Too busy being incorrect by name Fear welling into my soul But I loved her all the same
It’s not fair to bring up old times Immaturity & self-reject are not a virtue I don’t deserve her thoughts nor sentiments In the end, never good enough for you
Still thinking of what might’ve been Or an excuse to freshly misbehave Angst & teenaged awkwardness Take a shot & take it all to my grave
Wish goodbye to frumpy politicians & their senile glances Robber baron approach to public service After we gave them too many chances
I don’t care for your foreign correspondents Time to stay home & let the meek be the victors War machines don’t benefit those who march Deceit & impropriety measured upon the Richter’s
I don’t understand disdain for fellow humans I don’t care if you worship in a synagogue or under a steeple In the end, we’re all God’s children Here on Earth, we must remember it’s We The People
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
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
The illustrious words of Hunter (the elder)
We ante’d more than our parents’ share
Broken cups of mottled modeling clay
Abstinence leaving you lonely & bare
Chanting Yeats without a voice
A rye smile at the lively night’s end
Cocktail girls when only a wife will do
Looking to the heavens to make amends
Time is failing on a tractional level
Bleak mornings to come calling back
Needing to move without giving notice
Resurrection only possible with coffee this black
But the machine will keep on rolling
Until we end the tolerance of systematic lies
This is the only chance we have here
Life is not lived if it ends in a tempered sigh
Daylight creaking up over the Atlantic First light’s rays struggling over the sea My bones seem to have a bit of rust Better lubricate with some more coffee
Dancing upon the shores of the St. John’s We don’t need carpets; red or otherwise We only need our bare skin to touch Ending with me whispering between your thighs
thinking nostalgic thoughts on an empty stomach rediscovering grunge tunes stuck at home in a pandemic remembering the pain of high school couldn’t fit in anywhere reliving dark moments where it could’ve ended remembering lost loves & how warm they made you feel but you know it wasn’t real leaving you cold & alone abandoned until life truly began.
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
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
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
This is it
The end of where I care
You won’t make me cower
I won’t return there
I’m going to dance out loud
I’m going to rock that kazoo
You can’t make me regret
I’ll shake my tush like Baloo
Sitting here dissenting all forms of gov’t
Looking for answers in these coffee grounds
Uncovering more & more hatred, with less hope
These political ovations do nothing but compound
Society has gone astray, Jesus take the wheel
We’re all being watched by a perched black bird
Incoherent shrieks & mumbles of “Nevermore”
Universities stacked with all the quotes they misheard
Where are the heroes to protect democracy of the republic
In the wake of fraudulent saints & a presidential pretender
We must devise a prophecy to overtake our future
Lady Liberty’s hem is ablaze; with no elder statesmen to defend her
We’re led by fools, fractures & frauds
Finding ourselves at crossroads armed like Checkpoint Charlie
History won’t be kind to the weak or evil all the same
Needing a guardian like Justice Ginsburg on a Harley
I’m raising a small army of Lost Girls
Feminist soldiers marching – in all but the name
Seeking love, peace & equality for all the people
Hindering harmony will leave you squarely to blame
We all have our differing loyalties
But truth will prevail when time comes to an end
Our trials will be but mere footnotes to antiquity
Faceless angels guiding youth; they shall forever be a friend
*previously posted, but I think we need to come together and stop fighting amongst ourselves.