Typing, Hacking, Thinking – Smokin’ Hot

Typing, hacking, thinking – Smokin’ hotTyping your best to empty all thought Pouring your soul into force upon the keysYour woman walks past with a dress above the knees Now you can’t think or type or stammer straightThe hell with with deadlines – this one’s gonna be late You pray to the spirits of procastrination

Girls With Their Knee-Highs

  Girls with their knee-highs Haute Couture, exposed at the side But don’t believe everything you see Smashed & forgotten; a murdered bride Money left on the nightstand A life shouldn’t be thrown away for such Summer comes to erase memories But down here, it doesn’t take much She was already cast out, with her

Touched By The Whim Of God

Touched by the whim of God Revolutions in the unlikeliest of places Tasting the perfect tilt to her hips My benign lunacy comes in traces Diluted measurements by midmorning With inconvenient virtues & unholy glee Bringing small obsessions in my mind When the local widows invite me for tea Entering only after a courteous introduction

A Wink from Her To Get My Heart A-Revving

  A wink from her to get my heart a-revving Her pink negligee hanging below her knee Soft skin turns into hardened intentions The promise of a night of debauchery A bouquet not desired, but a single bloom Visions of adulation thoroughly taut I’m rigidly attuned with her frequency A fine suited man removing a

I Saw Her Through The Glittering Sun

I saw her through the glittering sunPerched high upon the lifeguard standPerfectly sculpted under bright skyKnees weak, tripping in the soft sandThe gulls echoing a distant cryDreams of love & what could beThe salt air marinating upon our skinI’ve lost my heart here upon the sea