Where is my absurd little coffee this morn Claiming to be something or other I rise slower, wiping Pixie Dust from my eyes Never forget the dreams they try to smother My gorgeous blonde lady sleeping peacefully Our love burnt brightly into a passionate fire I stretch my legs & smile at a job well done She’ll slumber for a while, for she’s kind of tired
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
Good morning, Beautiful
I’ve brought some coffee to share
Bathe me in your deep caresses
Make me abandon my laissez faire
Intentions have never been pure
I exist in complicated ways
I believe in healthy love & lust
& setting fire to our communiques
Don’t forget to repeat our truth in unison Stand up straight with proper military bearing Forget your conscience; such things are done Keep on moving toward the triumph of the daring
Unfurl the banners so that we might recite Let the people know what we’re fighting for Light the fires, so the boys may march by night Let them live out their dreams in the glories of war
Remain focused- don’t live within your heads For the battle is real, so is the carnage by the blade You need to stay loyal or your sons will wind up dead Listen to the drums, forget the thoughts we’ve forbade
This existence is painful, but hell will be hotter Don’t return with blood soaked memories to spurn Live up to the fullest; embrace the full-bodied slaughter Raise your swords to the sky & let the traitors burn
Within doctrines of the former realms Secular atonements when you cannot reap Our distorted narratives no longer at the helm Parched souls shudder when you cannot sleep
Notebooks wrapped in twine, lubricating my dreams Thinly veiled entitlements, rushing to meet the golden hour Misplaced refugees; tugging on our heart seams Stomp on rose colored lenses/before the vine turns sour
Standing tall amidst populism, still reading banned books Rejecting capitalism before you win a shopping spree Your enemy’s dilemma might be worth a look While upholding the realization of love’s prophesy
Embracing goblets of celebratory wine & errant notes Time to return to glory; fire dance upon wooden boats
She said I was, “trying to conjure the ghost of Bukowski” I told her there was better writers to admire I’m not in college anymore Drinking & degrading women won’t light my fire
I’m looking for inspiration to ignite my soul A need to be revolutionized from the daily grind Normalcy & the mundane will kill my spirit I’m pushing forward to nurture & excite this weary mind
Junky little notes Throwaway lines on the postmodern stage Cultural fragmentation in empty streets Truth whittled away on an evaporating page
The disillusionment of an appropriated life While the world’s on fire; downright ablaze The American Dream sold off to the lowest bidder Feeling dissociative in these recent raucous days
Our dishonest & unaccountable government Are trying to sell you their uninspired vision Trying to sway your vote by gripping your throat But their cockamamy pleas will be met with only derision
She wore white to the hanging
Fingers smudged from setting the patriarchy to burn
She wore a guilty smile
For they would never ever seem to learn
By her beauty, they were always distracted
But her brains they never could comprehend
Once the fire went viral
They wished they could call her a friend
They picked such an angelic foe
Yet kept her bound by tradition & canon & law
But you can never chain ideas down
Imprudence by the state was the final straw
Continual pandering as a cultural trait
Overwrought force; their idea as the solution
The spark still smoldering in her eyes
Never again the victim, she’s the whole damn revolution
*This is a reaction to rewatching the movie Cat Ballou with modern eyes.
Lost in the crumbs of the paper fiber A fresh nib shall never replace the quill Smearing the answers with lazy strokes The hazard of firing off missives at will
Sometimes you just need an excuse
To do something completely irrational…
Small moments creating larger smiles
This party is increasing – It’s going National
Jerry’s singing loud, making me dance
Wave that flag, wave it wide & high
Light the fires, let’s make it count
Happy Birthday, America! – on this 4th of July!
Emerging from the night of lost souls
A rough morning with make-up in your eyes
Playing with fire when you dressed like Hell
You believed the Devil when he whispered his lies
Another exhilarating night of sin extinguished
But your heart now belongs to the man of flames
You don’t remember how your dress got burnt
Or how your lovely chest was branded with his name
Disquieted moments in the afternoon These Springtime rays have a golden hour Reflecting youth into my weary eyes The reassuring notion of dreampower
Yet gone are the mornings we woke afresh Our mortal flesh reeling down on Earth Life; the thorn in the side of this existence Internal fire requires our souls a wider berth
The slings & arrows shall never fully hinder For love always eventually finds a way Darkness cannot extinguish the sun This truth discovered by the piercing light of day
Wilting roses by the fireside
Coffee warming bones chilled from the boat
Drifting thoughts to stagnant memories
Thawing words from poems you never wrote
Rubbing their fingers over the stereo knob The frequencies distorted on the airwaves Kings of the new world & thus apocalyptic Searching for something more pragmatic to crave
These technocrats with no concept of reality Tasking – without offering an alternate fate Demanding citizens for homages to be digital With no power to control – or else we attenuate
Words of peace have the chance to amplify Even when we’re feeling out of time/out of sync Don’t need their fiber optic lies to survive A blind man loses all when forced to blink
Tapping into a passion without any circuits Our transistors are live; we’re lovers thus discrete There’s no stopping us when their signal’s weak There’s nothing but fire & sparks when our wires meet
This life is forever altered now we’re here Do not attempt to adjust the squelch You’re listening to Radio Free America Standing proud & robust like Raquel Welch
Teetering on the edge of normalcy The unraveling of misguided forms This mind won’t settle into boredom Will not compromise the quelling of the storm Do not attempt to dampen this fire My spirit will continue to actively soar For I won’t be cajoled to become bland Feeling fresh & alive, always reaching for more
Never to be released from these institutions Saving our own souls is the remedy for us to see Before they forever lock us behind the parlor doors Setting fire to their house is the only way to be free