Surrounding Myself With Ancient Friends

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Surrounding myself with ancient friends
Wisdom & experiences laid upon my shelf
Bare for all to quietly consume
Providing a chance for a better version of self

Absorbing past lives without pause
Silhouettes of women from long ago
Angst from existential rights in time
Visions of dreams I wish to forgo

These books are mere placeholders
For the contents of my heart upon hardwood
Gentle reminders of our former intellect
& the hope we might return to being good

To My Beloved Friends

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To my beloved friends
Though we live in far off places
& may not have the honor
Of gracing each other’s faces

The sands of time are finite
& we have so many demands
On how we spend each grain
Whether I’m at sea or on dry land

Yet know, I keep you with me
Close to this weary heart
Gather in for a New Years’ toast
Opportunity for a fresh start

Telling Stories After Dark

Telling stories after dark
Occasionally with Tom Waits in the lead
Fantastical little allegories
Bringing a light to those souls in need

No need to whisper in the shadows
Luminous words to prepare the way
Removing barriers to our enlightenment
Witticisms fleshed out & on display

Short tales to get creative juices flowing
Harking back to dreams that we might meet
Subtle differences between the pauses
Allowing our imaginations to properly greet

Scenes from our own round table
Foreplay within our cheeky banter
Conjuring visions of a keen passion
Diluted memories at the bottom of our decanter

Bad behavior leads to a more examined life
Though through fiction we can live eternal
A little more sensitive than you want to believe
Yearning to be held by a beautiful dame so maternal

Out here with our hearts raised to the sky
Searching for better answers on the midnight shore
With the freedom to imagine wisdom laid bare
Parsed theories for when we sent them off to war

Subtle manipulation within our romantic esthetics
Unreliable narrators marching; our literary brigade
There’s no vernacular for hearts’ folly
Pushing forth our gentle notion love might persuade

In the end, dear friends, our parable is contrite
In this heinous world, we all have a simple choice
I lay myself to slumber, a fatigued sailor
Wishing for a lullaby coming from Nick Cave’s voice

 

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Mornings Naturally Rise

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Mornings naturally rise
Catching sunshine in my eyes

Distracted by the obvious glare
Misdirected like you really cared

Left feeling a bit obtuse
Never in pity, what’s the use

Taking a moment to feel low
Then return to what we all know

Be smarter, don’t get deceived again
Or merely rewrite it all with your pen

At this point, there are no rules
Ignore their taunts, the damn fools

Karma will get them in the end
52nd layer of hell is for fake friends

The Man Has You Grinding Away

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The man has you grinding away
The organ makes the monkey dance
You’re looking for the Promised Land
But you never really had the chance

You’re writing your soul on the page
Friends support & love all they heard
But the critics cry foul & laugh bitterly
You’re only as good as your last word

Lewis Carroll

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“The time has come, my little friends, to talk of other things

Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings

And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings

Calloo, Callay, come run away / With the cabbages and kings”

– The Walrus