Dowager Queen dressed like a nun
Looking for courtesies in murky nights
Whispering to me “this is gonna be fun”
Shadows dance in tranquil candlelight
I’m all in as she shucks her brassiere
Mixing metaphors with her gin
Titillated whenever she comes near
Pulling lace away from her original sin
Your idols weren’t half the men
They thought they were half a bottle in
Cowardly hiding behind unjust traditions
Sinning while gulping juniper medicinal gin
Their women languishing in the shadows
Cast off from any chance to reach the light
Yet those damsels can see through the dark
The perfect heroine to save an errant knight
Misconstrued notions of dynamic parity
Swabbing the deck with your fallen idol
Ink smudges & literary drudges
Methinks – their mothers should’ve used spermicidal
Summer’s dog days of the forgone
Experiencing a crisis of fate
Sharpening our wits on bathtub gin
Wondering if it’s worth the effort to curate
A palpable desire
Feeling it from deep within
Drowning my anxiety
Beneath 4 olives, vermouth & gin
Supposed to be a functioning adult
But I say bollocks to all that noise
It wasn’t all that long ago, still
Running the streets with the boys
Though I dress better now
The soul leaking through the cracks
My heart is a fragile commodity
Foreboding the oncoming attack
The eccentricities of life result in a varied solution
Notes & experience written into the far margin
Surrealist details woven into mundane worlds
A quiet cocktail of banned books & Bombay gin
The clouds descend upon us
Stress compounding at this time of year
Getting darker as the days build
Waxing upon the fruition of fear
This world is a bloody hell
A disaster proven before the ink dries
Scorn for a distant foundation
Futility in which all hope slowly dies
The darkness returns
Looking for a story to wryly begin
Miscommunications falter
& I wade through my vermouth & gin
Image by Peggy und Marco Lachmann-Anke from Pixabay
Captain Q 