Good morning
Light stretching & taking hold
Too long under these covers
Happenchance favors the bold
Time to spread these sea legs
Arching my back & flexing my arms
It feels good to still be alive
We’ve shuttered close, yet escaped any harm
I’m not an artist, just a guy with a pen
Upon a lonely night, I started to write
I jotted down some rhymes for me
Teen angst channeled into the light
I’ve never looked back to think
I just keep writing over the decades
I don’t edit my feelings nor judge you
Purely an attempt for the soul not to fade
Rainy days along the intercoastal
Long mornings lead to stressful nights
The last cold hours before Spring
Reading quickly by the escaping light
You can keep your digital playgrounds
I care not for a Kindle nor a Nook
There’s no time for your technology
At the end of the day, just give me a book
The old fashioned kind, maybe a paperback
Anything without a power source
I don’t need your highbrow radiation
I’ll stick with tangible pages of course
I may hail from generations past
Perhaps I’m boorish, perhaps I’m a lout
But I’m pretty damn basic when the day is done
I’ll still have my pages when the lights go out
The darkness has not lifted
But the voices are getting mean
A subtle slippage in the light
I’m going to need more caffeine
Perhaps some fresh air to heal
When the dreaming has soured
I spy the image in a night shift
The lone lady out at this hour
The gloom begins to recede
With this sweet widow on the block
My heart in rhythm with her words
As the gentle hands on the clock
Unplugging from the mainframe
Remaining forever off the grid
Don’t need their connections
Don’t know if we ever truly did
The final tragic hero of a modern culture
The soul survivor of a discarded revolution
Histories & experience outside the norm
Dreams of freedom with divine attribution
Dealing with the conceits of perfection
The concepts of loneliness & betrayal
This world isn’t what we were promised
Token hints lost behind a fractured veil
The answers are hidden beyond this life
It may look bleak, but don’t you fret
We have the Source of Light
& they’re still riding that ol’ dialup internet
The rest of the world is frozen
Placed under Elsa’s frigid spell
But down here on the beaches
We’re out watching the swells
Sand dusted upon our tanned skin
With the sun hanging over us, high
Palm trees strung with Christmas lights
A warm day called winter, passes us by
Awake early in the naked, teal morning
Still wet from dancing in the rain
My subconscious kissing her femininity
But the memories remain love-stained
Her fingers gripping my shoulders
Our souls constantly trying to absorb
Soft, low moans quietly evident
I’m enchanted by her fleshy orbs
We’re exposed in the light of dawn
A realness that won’t be concealed
We have a glow of our own
No words exist, but a truth she can feel
Ill reputed minstrel & her fancy dolls
Forever punished for my dated sin
A hushed wish for something more
Images of the whiteness of porcelain
Do not lead me through vacant doors
No need to become another mistake
Removed from that dreadful life
Sparing additional pain for her own sake
Dancing lightly in the darkness
Admiring her spinning gown
Incapable of resisting delicate charms
Would do anything to replace that frown
Caught in a lightning storm
That kiss knocked me out
My heart with abnormal rhythms
That girl’s gonna make me shout
I was lost in the pitch black
Then she showed me her light
Tunnel vision with a rapid pulse
Never shall I ever forget this night
Discarded waves of soft dreams
Mislabeled by errant letter placement
Leaving bookmarks for posterity
Undue reams of self-abasement
Lighting dry wicks by morning
That sadness- we might alleviate
Exploring incantations in words
For a soul’s thirst to invigorate
Evading their ongoing tragedies
Forty summers spent down in the dirt
Withstanding the weight of apocalypse
Emerging; though slightly less overt
Blast furnace of the afternoon sun
Dali walking barefoot on Tampa’s shores
Pale riders within unabsorbed light
Embracing purity through perception’s doors
The paint of our secret love notes
But can only be read through the keyhole
Shying away from all public renditions
Her passionate words left imprinted on my soul
Don’t forget to repeat our truth in unison
Stand up straight with proper military bearing
Forget your conscience; such things are done
Keep on moving toward the triumph of the daring
Unfurl the banners so that we might recite
Let the people know what we’re fighting for
Light the fires, so the boys may march by night
Let them live out their dreams in the glories of war
Remain focused- don’t live within your heads
For the battle is real, so is the carnage by the blade
You need to stay loyal or your sons will wind up dead
Listen to the drums, forget the thoughts we’ve forbade
This existence is painful, but hell will be hotter
Don’t return with blood soaked memories to spurn
Live up to the fullest; embrace the full-bodied slaughter
Raise your swords to the sky & let the traitors burn
Summer girls/winter women
Refreshing my sullen mind
Taste of joyous inspiration
Love heightened upon rewind
Basking in the light of sunshine
Energized by glorious visions
The heat dwells deep within
Passion rising in absolute precision
Image by mskathrynne from Pixabay
Finding refuge in my dreams
Traipsing through Baudelaire’s flowers
I sing a silent dirge to my soul
Tracing her petals within Summer’s shower
Caught in the currents of missteps
Former words no longer voiced
Lightness of a delicate vision
We heard the morning’s rain rejoice
Politely declining a dreadful umbrella
Walking out, always been man enough to weep
Soaked; tears all the way through
Drowning; maybe now the sunset will let me sleep
Just wanting these eyes to close & slowly linger
Fatigue from society & the domesticated sheep
Intentionally & lightly dipping her ginger fingers
Focused breaths when you only wish to sleep
Timid changes to the way we survive
Ducking our heads when the water finally rises
Perpetual fatigue ponders if we’re still alive
Each heartbeat wrapped within fervent surprises
Another day emerges from the absence of light
This mug of swill – my only source of heat
Creaking past the endless repetition of night
Punch drunk, but still standing; never admitting defeat
I’m the footnote to your memory
Everyone will remember how you touched their soul
I’m just the quiet guy in the background
Working hard to help make your vision whole
I’m not the one to be seen nor heard
But to fade away when they extinguish the lights
Forgotten once the dream falls to recess
Sealed once we find our departing flights
I never wished to distract from you
I humbly serve your silent grace
No aim to conjure something more
Merely to bask in beautiful refraction of your face
Raincoats do little to lighten the mood
So we stay away from the elements
Waiting for drier days to participate
Shore leave was no more than an accident
Disturbed themes & distant thrombosis
A hitch in your giddy-up when it’s time for tea
Transcendental visitations
From dreams may come answers to our makeshift reality
Pouring over the brackish tomes with devotion
Gentlemen & ladies of letters; luminaries of thought
But truth doesn’t cure our limited capacities
Bare harbingers of the illiterations we’ve wrought
We’ve taken ill in our posh-marked libraries
Leaving fingerprints on memories we loved the most
We maunder through our raging debates
Knowing full well they’re all books about ghosts
Darkness creeps in on our musty resolve
Syntax prescribed with an utmost surgical query
Descending by the light of our candelabra
If we survive, we’ll be counted amidst the weary
Dreams of pretty dancing girls
Tartan skirts & gold buckles on their shoes
Legs draped in such fine stockings
High kicks, but treasure out of view
The fantasy of a joyous party
Spirited music playing a bit loud
Fiddles & bagpipes; what a scene
You pulled me out of the dense crowd
Beauty of drinking black beer all day
My stature begins to slightly tilt
You quietly asked me for a light
But there’s no pockets in this kilt
Envisioning what the night might bring
Is it possible that you could be this real
Sharing a pint in a secluded corner
A second Guinness is considered a meal
The sun rose again today
As it often tries to do
The light leaves me feeling
Naked & exposed to you
Hiding within the coastal pines
Hoping that you won’t see
That in spite of all the words
I’m still only me
She said I was, “trying to conjure the ghost of Bukowski”
I told her there was better writers to admire
I’m not in college anymore
Drinking & degrading women won’t light my fire
I’m looking for inspiration to ignite my soul
A need to be revolutionized from the daily grind
Normalcy & the mundane will kill my spirit
I’m pushing forward to nurture & excite this weary mind
Surviving by the bright light of day
Pouring coffee directly into my weary eyes
Can’t sleep at night since I must remain alert
Anxious; trying to hide my soul’s invisible cries
Gathering my wits to merely successfully exist
Waiting for the other shoe to drop & Hell to begin
Tired of cowering away in forgotten silence
Appearing strong since no one sees the enemy within
Lighting the wicks on a rainy day
Blowing the dust off the vinyl
Finding comfort in the subtle tones
& knowing these days aren’t final
Seeing those palm lined drives
Standing out in the mist
Reassuring my lonely soul
& remembering lips I wish were kissed
Her love hidden in the liner notes
Buzz words & other incantations
Knowing she’s my answer
& becoming my perfect temptation
Dissidents wishing for anarchy
Amid the noise at the city’s edge
Marching toward the inevitable
With blinders afixed & a solemn pledge
Roustabouts & preachers agreeing before light
Yet the jury will always cry out for more
Cannot tolerate the president’s folly
The juxtaposition of hippies going to war
Dreams & fates return forthwith
Stars falling from under her dress
Elegantly raised up from her seat
Floating lightly with each soft caress
The town is alive tonight
Her body spun upon her painted toes
A culmination of efforts built upon
The bunched cloth forgotten in the throes
I wish to whisper elegant tales
They’ll allow you to follow me
Through the transfers of light
These are moments you’ll be free
I know you have never believed
In what I forever sought & dreamed
We could have been truly great
You always wanted better it seemed
But the simple fact is grace is unearned
We live our lives as if we’re undeterred
Ignorant to sin & repercussions thereafter
Yet hoping for the winds to remain unstirred
Truth & love are bound to our dreams
The inconvenient reality of the harsh pain of day
Trudging through our irksome tasks
Bright light stuns us into a stuttering delay
Fall to your knees in complete repentance
Submit your soul to the warmth of His sunshine
Release the burden of mortal expectation
Forever embrace the perfect love of the Divine
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
Image by Eli Digital Creative from Pixabay
Treading lightly on the soft highway
Searching onward for the Earthbound divinity
Through the desert with the primal scream
Broken decibels ring out, yet amount to infinity
Silver pistol tucked in drawer of hosiery
Known to man only by a chintzy nom de plume
I always preferred a thick bottomed almanac
Slowed, but we have big energy to exhume
Dawn rises, yet the Truth still silently sleeps
Looking for prophets in the glittering sun
Too bright for our modern, mortal myopia
Be still; be patient as time is not yet overrun
The sun entering the bedroom
She tasted like natural ginger root
Satisfied before she began her day
A short skirt & high heeled boots
A perfect way to leave her
A lovely morning with such a sight
I watched her until I couldn’t see
Everyone should be so lucky at first light
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
Returning to the world
Finding life left unraveled
A smile never so grand
Home the best place traveled
Warmth of simple comforts
Never trading precious delights
Beauty in these open arms
Darkness eclipsed by light
Sometimes you just need an excuse
To do something completely irrational…
Small moments creating larger smiles
This party is increasing – It’s going National
Jerry’s singing loud, making me dance
Wave that flag, wave it wide & high
Light the fires, let’s make it count
Happy Birthday, America! – on this 4th of July!
Red lipstick & a tight ponytail
The pretty piano player; a punk rockette
The domestic goddess with a need to be clean
Living on the edge of the cosmopolitain set
Hoarding her guilty pleasures fiercely
The moral ambiguity is a stubborn crutch
Ignoring nature’s perfectly placed laws
But she’ll only accept the light’s soft touch
Wearing an evening gown at her elegant leisure
Within her mind, no better way to take a selfie
She’s blunt with her standards & expectations
But lucky for us all, my poems are gluten free
Image by Kelsey Vere from Pixabay
I often catch myself
Glancing up at your windowpane
Occasionally seeing a silhouette
Memories of youth still remain
Possibly spying a lacy chemise
But now you’re wearing the curtains
Or maybe there was nothing on
But I couldn’t know for certain
The morning light not quite seen
I might feel like a common creeper
Alternate lifetimes in my mind
Yet I know you’d still be a keeper
I see your beautiful soul hiding
That passionate soul now a mere outline
Locked away in your precious life
I’m sure you’d say you’re ‘doing fine’
Possibly spying a lacy chemise
But now you’re wearing the curtains
Or maybe there was nothing
But I couldn’t know for certain
I see boundaries in your thought
I’m not intending to be rude
You can make your own decisions
I don’t wish to trespass nor intrude
You’re the princess in your castle
Not a figment of my invention
Locked eyes before you look away
Somehow grateful for the attention
Wash away my sins
Lightning striking us twice
Coming summer rain (soft & light)
That lovely woman – cold as ice
Yet I head for her still
Not one to be dissuaded
She’ll warm to my charms
When I leave her hair unbraided
My sweatshirt still lingers with her scent
Pondering what all the flirting meant
Remembering the clouds glowing from the lights
Sitting on the hood, enjoying her company that night
I can still see her – with her long blonde hair
She looked so beautiful standing out there
Daylight creaking up over the Atlantic
First light’s rays struggling over the sea
My bones seem to have a bit of rust
Better lubricate with some more coffee
Dancing upon the shores of the St. John’s
We don’t need carpets; red or otherwise
We only need our bare skin to touch
Ending with me whispering between your thighs
Disquieted moments in the afternoon
These Springtime rays have a golden hour
Reflecting youth into my weary eyes
The reassuring notion of dreampower
Yet gone are the mornings we woke afresh
Our mortal flesh reeling down on Earth
Life; the thorn in the side of this existence
Internal fire requires our souls a wider berth
The slings & arrows shall never fully hinder
For love always eventually finds a way
Darkness cannot extinguish the sun
This truth discovered by the piercing light of day
Trying to recreate life
In spite of these ink-stained fingers
The smudges in the interior margins
Forgotten, yet where light tends to linger
These days aren’t so easily understood
I contradict back onto myself
Leaving traces in my erratic wake
All I know – Love has been my only true wealth
Maybe the morning
Doesn’t; it just doesn’t have to be
You rise a little softer on that day
Emerging from a cocoon for me to see
Winter blankets fall away like nebulae
Taller than is expected from a Belle
Not so confident at first light
The arching sun; the pillory of hell
Stretching in my threadbare shirt
A shake of your hips
When first the brew hits your lips
But I want to watch
As you take another vainglorious sip
Our private thoughts remain unimpeded
Keeping the ghost light on those theater steps
Daily life can become a sullen drudgery
Yet still remembering when my heart last leapt
The love of a bygone era
Doing our best to not die of boredom or neglect
Creating light to lead others from the darkness
Distant theories to remedy our ailments, I suspect
The twinkling of stars at night
Dispatched souls with nothing to lose
Our lost matchbook fantasies
Dwindling into aging suburban blues
Not fond of Covid nor the Spanish Flu
I’d rather have some Spanish Fly
Mix it in my cup, “yo baby, what’s up?”
I’m still that awkward ass, abnormative guy
Fading time to time into darkness
But I try to emerge into the light these days
A bounce in my step/mischief in my eye
Growing younger in spirit despite all these grays
The frivolity of her words
Wishing they had deeper meanings
Sunk down low in her chair
The cafe the source of her scheming
Dim lights allowing her to see
Answers within these tea leaves
Burned memories & villainous hexes
It only mattered if she truly believed
Gripping lightly to the banister
Our lives slipping away into the ether’s shadow
Gracefully stepping down each marble step
Never succumbing to their expectations of the afterglow
Holding your head up high in dignity
Wear the fancy clothes; wear your favorite scent
Knowing they’ll despise your happiness anyway
Remaining this awesome was never an accident
Stepping out into the light
My eyes can’t adjust to the sunshine
Night left me with nary a sleep
Stumblin’ home to all that’s still mine
Life comes at you hard & fast on the inside
Wondering when the pitches stopped comin’ in underhand
Won’t wallow in misery nor memory of elsewhere’s joy
These speeches fail to convey truth I can’t understand
Where do we go to return to the proper roads
Did I miss the signal for the game to truly begin
I’m old these days; confused by angles & trajectories
Yet I can still & once again wipe myself clear of my sin
Captain Q 