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

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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

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

Endless Hours

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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

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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

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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

Hanging With Beach Bums & Bashful Babes

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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

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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

Civil Disobedience

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Civil disobedience
Marching against their sullen grain
Public executions of our citizens
The ones whom systematically resemble our pain

Exhibitions of our worst character traits
The trembling hands with transcribed blood
Outside of the panoramic eye
Yet all the same, caught in the seismic flood

A taciturn refusal to simply exist
Check your feed for what revolutionaries say
Bold proclamations & campaign slogans
But eventually the media hype fades away

Some other crime or scandal to catch your eye
Lights, cameras & we all return to normal instead
Forgetting those who can’t whore for Zuckerberg
But the people still live with a price on their head

The Twinkling Of Stars At Night

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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

The Carcasses Of Inspiration

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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

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