Shipwrecked.

Photo by Just Name on Pexels.com

Shipwrecked.
Isolated on foreign shores since then
Surrounded by predators
Judgement & leers by creepy men
Can only do her best to survive
Keeping quiet in their midst
Don’t want to provoke the beast
Won’t fade to obscurity she insists
It’s complicated to remain equal
These days one must be agile
She keeps them at bay with a grin
While remaining firm but not fragile

She’s Alone

Photo by Muhammad Huzaifa on Pexels.com

She’s alone
In spite of all the adoring eyes
Propped firmly on the pedestal
A solitary witness when lust dies

She’s been up there in isolation
The heroine of the bell tower
A slight teeter in her stance
Still defying gravity on the hour

Her alabaster skin shines at night
A chance to quietly & decidedly atone
The decadence of her marble bust
Fingerprints on her heart of stone

Another teary-eyed princess
With a vintage, tarnished crown
Yet, I cannot stop worshipping her
For who’ll catch us, when we all fall down

But from this distance
I cannot properly love her

I Can Still Make Mature Women Blush

Photo by Anastasia Shuraeva on Pexels.com

 

I can still make mature women blush
Knowing the proper placement of words
Using my tongue to enunciate firmly
The rhythm of recitement, she slowly purred

The fertile experience of rapturous joy
Pause a moment, so she won’t catch her death
Letting her pulse settle to reasonable levels
Returning to the living, joy in each & every breath

The bold blonde with big, bouncy curls
Much-maligned missionary souls
Falling in love was always my fatal flaw
Especially once I’ve relinquished control

It Was A One-Eyed Kind Of Morn

It was a one-eyed kind of morn
With evening’s festivities going awry
I scrawled out all I could remember
Once a gentleman, turned drunken guy

Slight images of a lovely form
Olfactory sparks upon my brain
Sketching the party’s guest list
But no new faces could remain

Racking my skull for a proper memory
Writing down every & each detail
Compiling a list to rediscover
I’m trying to think, but it’s to no avail

A faceless gown with affectionate gloves
Somehow my mind is able to recall
Cognitive fragments begin to linger
Clouded out by last night’s alcohol

Scenes slowly begin to return
I believe we’re out on the dance floor
An embrace of smoldering desire
Yet I couldn’t figure out any more

Scraps of notes spread before me
No identity to place upon the truth
Scant reason to be shy in my search
Basking in honesty of my lapsed youth

Cobwebs have been sparsely lifted
Won’t think of her in the past tense
Her ghostly touch encourages me yet
We shall meet again, I firmly sense

To hold her with determined spirit
Seems fantastical at this sad rate
Yet she’s left fingerprints upon me
Remaining until I succumb to my fate

I’m Not Feeling Strong These Days

nature-2591766_1920.jpg

I’m not feeling strong these days
With my soul in traction
Weakness seems to manifest itself
Sustaining a chain reaction

I’m not feeling invincible anymore
With my heart on the gallows block
Life can crush your spirit
While we’re busy serving the clock

I’m not feeling perfect, quite honestly
But I know there’s toughness somewhere
Upon a solid foundation I shall rise
With a firm grip on love & a fist in the air

Speak Up, Stand Up; Announce To The World

Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko on Pexels.com

Speak up, stand up; announce to the world
Spread the news of truth’s availability
Don’t be shy; we’re all in this together
Easy now, no need to hate on my virility

I honestly distrust anything popular or sacred
Passing them by & allow them to hide
I have to figure it out 20 years later
Force-filtered through life & time & tide

Opposing magnetic poles claiming Orwell
Both deluding themselves he’s their saint
But he was human & all the related flaws
His divinity seems a little too quaint

We need people with a firm, decisive choice
No interest in your ineffectual, intellectual porn
There’s no time for pussyfooting around
We must find the truth & feed it to the bullhorn

My Fetish Is Powerful Women

Photo by Matheus Bertelli on Pexels.com

My fetish is powerful women
Standing proud in front of a crowd
Holding court with authenticity
Firmly entrenched without having to get loud

Mesmerized by the way she carries herself
Controlling me with a compassionate glance
She’s my incandescent muse
My reason for believing in happenstance

She’s regal without being out of touch
Properly expressing how it feels to be real
But I know she’s never going to give in
No matter our depravities, she will never kneel

Containing the ability to remain soft & lovely
While always making me hard
She can be inconvenient to worship
Not a plot point, won’t let you simply discard

Who am I to say no?
When she asks me to open up for the Queen
I’m the victim of my own volition
But I love it all, if you know what I mean

Securely Sheltered In Your Castle

Photo by Kasonya Wilcox on Pexels.com

Securely sheltered in your castle
He makes sure you’re secluded
Always firmly safe from all harm
Obviously he’s benignly deluded

The loneliness still quietly invades
The walls upward of 10 feet high
Locks, bolts & your skeleton keys
Helpless against memories of a guy

Your suburban paradise glitters
But you’d rather be alive instead
Perfection laid at your feet, but
The punk of your youth isn’t dead