Feeling the soft, thick cotton
Upon my firm foundation
This bottom is solid
Do not be fooled by the twinkle in my eye
Feeling The Soft, Thick Cotton
eye
Wet Sunday Mornings
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
The Uneasiness In Beauty’s Proximity
The uneasiness in beauty’s proximity
Erasing the value once one’s pleasing
Can’t be looked upon as respectable
When they’re out here coy & teasing
I’m embarrassed I caught your eye
& for you being pleasantly riled
I accidentally sent you reeling
All because I innocently smiled
A paradox in moral judgement
A blush when you find a stranger appealing
Flush with these strange emotions
Owed an apology ‘cause of how you’re feeling
Your sensibilities won’t allow you
To be caught with the last temptation
Eroded virtue of a wandering character
But we’ll call the whole thing an aberration
A Gleam In Your Eye
A gleam in your eye
Like we’re getting away with it
A quiet moment for ourselves
Not exactly what you expected
A touch more intense than you’re used to
But I only know how to kiss deeply
I’m trying to reach your soul
& feel every heartbeat
Passing Quietly In The Night
Passing quietly in the night
Unbeknownst to a blind eye
Distractions turning nervous
Youthful visions of a divided sky
Perpetual beauty left ravished
Smudged but steady on course
Redemptions readily available
Without the gale’s full force
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
Hymns For Modern Children
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
Don’t Look Her In The Eye
Don’t look her in the eye
For it might tip your move
Just a simple guy
With nothing to prove
She wants nothing from you
& your humble ways
Society envies her
Stack that against the strays
Don’t show her any interest
& she’ll question her worth
Twisting this back on you
Like you’re the last man on earth
Keep to yourself
Don’t be any more than polite
She’ll come calling
With a need for you to quench her plight
You Don’t See Me
You don’t see me when you look my way
Like a ghost – I just don’t seem to appear
Faded into the background of life
Unable to compete with all you hold dear
My kind smile & open arms aren’t a reality
Merely static in your fashion-conscious day
I’m over here trying to catch your eye
Yet my shadow is not even in your way
What more can I do to attract you
The uncool of America
Not enough flash
Eagerly & quietly industrious
But we’re still short on cash
You’re out here ridin’ high on your horse
I’m down here with my heart broken
You’re clearly oblivious to my existence
I wonder if you’ll ever be woken
Reading The Errant Pages
Reading the errant pages
Crumpling after each one is read
A gentle eye befallen the paper
Revising what each one has plead
Wastebasket- a lifetime away
Hoping it’s not the destiny of them all
Slowly, sacred thoughts form
Living in the weird space of my scrawl
It’s December, But It’s Warm
It’s December, but it’s warm
Driving faster, turning up the stereo
Eying you all pretty & classy
Hop with me & here we go
Slide right in & kiss me sweet
Be gentle girl, gotta maintain the road
It gets curvy around these parts
& you’re about to make my mind explode
Transparent Dresses Hanging In The Mud Room
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
My Eye Keeps Twitching
My eye keeps twitching
My soul being crushed by this stress
No one wants to hear my bitching
Pondering how to get out of this mess
I’ve got to look out for #1
Everyone else is doing the same
Need to survive until the setting sun
I’ve always heard I’m in a losing game
Endless Hours
Endless hours of love on café sidewalks
The world was beautiful & we were free
We were together; we were holding hands
& we were as happy as we could be
But then we were separated & deprived
The days are not so lovely & bright
I shall never let them get the better of us
For I shall spend every day in this fight
When they ask me why I can still smile
‘I know what true love is’ will be my reply
This world is weak compared to my love
Know that you are always the gleam in my eye
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
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
Looking For A Tepid Note
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
Hanging With Beach Bums & Bashful Babes
Hanging with beach bums & bashful babes
Swimming in the surf on late Spring days
Colorful flavors poured gently over ice
Skin glowing after hours in the pleasant rays
I thought I saw a Sea Hag along the sand
Though she revealed herself to be a Siren
Coaxing & teasing me with her demure allure
Whispering that I might be a modern Lord Byron
Uncomfortable with compliments of any sort
I quietly pull out my pen to jot down an ode
Her eyes grow wide, then a smirk & a wink
Simultaneously my mind, heart & loins explode
Incomplete Rants Are Broken Thoughts
Incomplete rants are broken thoughts
Antique shutters dangle in the breeze
Vaccinated by expired truth serums
Eye twitches; our hostess is ill at ease
Yet remaining upright on the page
Our fate wrapped in a trickster’s charm
Subtle strokes without remorse
Only dried ink leaves us disarmed
Subverting all the easy answers
Sacred is our fundamental right to choose
However your speculations drift
Cut the devil’s throat and wrap him in Winter’s hues
The Twinkling Of Stars At Night
The twinkling of stars at night
Dispatched souls with nothing to lose
Our lost matchbook fantasies
Dwindling into aging suburban blues
Not fond of Covid nor the Spanish Flu
I’d rather have some Spanish Fly
Mix it in my cup, “yo baby, what’s up?”
I’m still that awkward ass, abnormative guy
Fading time to time into darkness
But I try to emerge into the light these days
A bounce in my step/mischief in my eye
Growing younger in spirit despite all these grays
Keep A Passing Eye On Fortune
Keep a passing eye on fortune
Elevated from a closing remark
Cutting eyes in a curious direction
Distracted by life on a lark
Captain Q 