Middle Of the Ocean Blues

Paddling around the remotest parts
Looking for hope where there’s no merriment
Our souls evaporating in the open air
Put through this vise of a social experiment
Living out here minus the love & support
There’s only so much a man can endure
Mother Nature whirling up the darkest storms
Blowing away my dreams I’m terribly sure

Hey, hey, hey, pretty mama
Please send me some news
It’s lonesome out here
I’ve got the middle of the ocean blues

Thankful for a little spit of dry land
Feeling a bit wobbly & out of sorts
Having a nice cold one under a palm
Time to recharge my batteries in this port
Soon enough, we’ll be back floating
Feeling the Earth’s rotation upon this burn
Long days of sweat & toiling work
Wearing my body out before I return

Hey, hey, hey, pretty mama
Please send me some news
It’s lonesome out here
I’ve got the middle of the ocean blues

Rigormortis Of The Soul

Photo by Szelei Robert on Pexels.com

Rigormortis of the soul
Dejected along emotional failings
Tempered seas begin to roll
White knuckles; hold fast to the railings

Sorting feelings like a rolodex
Trampled yearning from Jaguar years
Unprepared for survival
Causing the most elaborate of your fears

Processing out foreign memories
But the answers just get in the way
Undisciplined in self-diagnosis
A sturdy smile in the face of the seaspray

Two Lost Souls, Like Beachcombers

Photo by Susn Dybvik on Pexels.com

Two lost souls, like beachcombers
Looking for lost things; love & such
Distant memories of happiness
The feeling of being needed; a touch
Nestled within a Siren’s lullaby
We never could grasp our fate
Shrugging off the daily struggles
Our only choice is to circumnavigate

Just A Guy With A Pen

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

I’m not an artist, just a guy with a pen
Upon a lonely night, I started to write
I jotted down some rhymes for me
Teen angst channeled into the light
I’ve never looked back to think
I just keep writing over the decades
I don’t edit my feelings nor judge you
Purely an attempt for the soul not to fade

Green Mermaid Lady

Green mermaid lady
I’m still in love with you
Always been good to me
My affections are overdue
Dimly lit stages for hire
Writing out these feelings
Jittered & confused tonight
Staggered & now kneeling
Inspiration to keep on going
Confidence in my finer words
Blocked out memories past
Forgetting what was heard
Know where you want to be
So I’ve come back to you
Capitalism be damned!
Pour me something new

Image by marvette critney from Pixabay 

Crafting Words & Dilapidated Feelings

Crafting words & dilapidated feelings
Withdrawing the essence of existence
Distilling the meaning of love’s texture
To stir my soul to our mutual subsistence

Remember The Old Ways

Remember the old ways
Scribbling out passionate jots
Secret notes to my beloved
Sharing all my lucid thoughts
Remember feelings of yesteryear
& how we were perfectly aligned
Don’t lose who we used to be
Through time – love remains undefined

I’m Tired Of Being So Dry

I’m tired of being so dry
In need of an outlet to release my brain
Creativity gone; leaving me stagnant
Building into a wreck of anxiety & pain
My thoughts stunted by vapid feelings
Finding myself too tense, filled with stress
Needing to drink from restorative waters
Like those I found under her dress

Creep Villanelle

Resisting the urge to flatter
Never taking such a leap
Beauty the heart of the matter
Ignored in your idle chatter
Left feeling like a forgotten heap
Resisting the urge to flatter
The thoughts come, but soon scatter
Keeping me from peaceful sleep
Beauty the heart of the matter
Love served on a silver platter
A tarnished memory much too cheap
Resisting the urge to flatter
My soul simmered to splatter
But our dreams aren’t that deep
Beauty the heart of the matter
Your image makes me all a-patter
Never wanting to come off as a creep
Resisting the urge to flatter
Beauty the heart of the matter

Honoré de Balzac

“Women are always true, even in the midst of their greatest falsities, because they are always influenced by some natural feeling.”
― Honoré de Balzac, Père Goriot

Frida Kahlo

 

“I tried to drown my sorrows, but the bastards learned how to swim, and now I am overwhelmed by this decent and good feeling.” – Frida Kahlo