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
Watching the condensation seep into the desk
I think of the glories that have gone away
The ice melting/mixing into my single malt
I’ve been nervous, but I’m okay by the end of the day
These days weren’t the ones we’ve been dreaming of
Idealistic thoughts when we were on foreign shores
Imagining celebrities dancing in their formalwear
Fancy & festive role models displayed forevermore
Upon the big screen & locked into our minds
Americana lost & the golden age of Hollywood
Stoking the passion of our fervid imaginations
Inspiring our dreams like nothing else ever could
Our hopes & desires abandoned & hung out to dry
March realizations our fantasies are mere celluloid
The cold night, withering on the streets alone
Upon the credits, leaving the theater broke & into the void
On a clear day you can see Fuji
I think that’s what Streisand said
Riding trains toward Shinjuku
Existence hanging by a thread
Bundled in these foreign streets
So simple we often tend to forget
Life-changing inertia rolling along
A tempered life without mixed regret
Why are we out here struggling
Working our asses off to make ends meet
Inflation keeps on rising
Can only afford to walk down the street
Searching for the righteous path
So I won’t hinder my sisters & brothers
Don’t want to dislodge Oliver’s bowl
Please Mr. President, may I have another?
But he’s in the back, fiddling slowly
Inhaling the fumes from foreign petroleum
While the value of the dollar mmm drops
Loose strings dangle, but he’s not controlling ‘em
Ready to tax any of the alms we might receive
Taking our currency without any thanks
Not looked upon as human beings
Merely a vote they use as their personal piggybanks
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
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
Captain Q 