Don’t Forget To Repeat Our Truth In Unison

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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

I’m Trying To Listen To Your Body

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I’m trying to listen to your body
Trying to feel my way to your heart
I’m looking to recover my innocence
That which I lost from the start

I’m decidedly envious of your hands
For they always remain with you
Forever within reach of your flesh
When I must bow & bid thee adieu

I’m continuously jealous of your locket
& the home it has been given to rest
The natural glories akin to Heaven
God alone could bestow such a treasured chest

Running Headlong Into The Woods

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Running headlong into the woods
With your meaningless tropes
Escaping any notion of your gaze
Slipping confinement & your stubborn hope

Never wished to be dubbed “wild”
At least not in your repetitive sense
Feeling numb to your expectations
Not remaining to hear your bland defense

Each step leads me further on my trek
Compounding the rules I unwittingly defied
Down the trail & away from your excuses
I didn’t listen, but I’m sure it’s all justified

Listening To Wollstonecraft On The Radio

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Listening to Wollstonecraft on the radio
“Don’t turn that dial!”, that’s what the DJ said
Not tied to any system; I’m still analog
I’m dangerous; so the advertisers pled

Hereditary responsibility to the common good
Therefore I don’t believe what I’ve been taught
I see y’all got opinions, from your suburban thrones
& these school systems regurgitating corporate rot

Criminal malpractice leaves us with poor examples
But we’ve seen far worse on both sides of the aisle
Bribing the lowest common denominator for votes
Rewrite history, but perhaps that’s not in your files

I’ve been cast off, labeled a subversive heretic
But I’m easy – so I’m doing my best to unlearn
To unwind these falsehoods they tried to entrench
The slow burn; time to take candor for a turn

Rash choices based upon juvenile aesthetics
The understanding that we all might partake
Though one must know speaking the truth too loud
Turns into testimony & they might burn us all at the stake

A Dancing, Twirling Girl

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A dancing, twirling girl
Caught up in the bedglow
Free from the concerns
A proper lady to surely know
Chamber chorus versus Jazz
She couldn’t guess where I’d be
That’s what kept us apart
Improvisational styles she couldn’t see
Cocktails in the early afternoon
She liked her whiskey neat
A traditional, proper beauty
But couldn’t meet when it came to the sheets
Striking poses within silhouettes
Admittedly swooning from my words
A wry smile & another sip
We sit naked, listening to ‘Trane & Bird

I Love What’s Feminine

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I love what’s feminine for its own beautiful sake
Walking out into Mother Nature & breathing in Earth
I’m collecting thoughts & addicted to smiling
A deliberate course to truly live ever since my birth

Feeling the distinct notion of life’s pulse
To emerge from here unbroken & mostly unscathed
To seek out joy & embrace hope where it lives
A stroll in pure sunshine; to be regeneratively bathed

No longer shall I listen to competing voices
I’m going to soak up compassion until I’m through
Outside of the distractions, I’ll grow softer
Finding contentment admits love’s eternal residue

Image by pixel2013 from Pixabay

What Do I Do With My Words

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What do I do with my words
How do I contain when they start to leak
Like the Little Dutch Boy
Who’s listening when I start to speak
But I can’t worry about the audience
I’ve got to keep playing my own tune
The steady groover with the proper notes
When it comes to our hearts, no one is immune

Overcast Navy Sailing Away

Overcast Navy sailing away
Pull up your trousers (black silk)
Your stay here has been cut short
Prominent sundresses & of that ilk
Humid weather slowing me down
Manicured hands releasing winds to blow
Settle into your newly structured mind
We never asked you to row so slow
Not listening to rumors on the deckplates
There’s a truth down there you can’t feel
Displacement registered in the silence
Absolutism shook along the keel
I still know you in spite of your success
For I knew you when you were poor
Beauty does not replace kindness
It merely opens up another door

Rubbing Their Fingers Over The Stereo Knob

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Rubbing their fingers over the stereo knob
The frequencies distorted on the airwaves
Kings of the new world & thus apocalyptic
Searching for something more pragmatic to crave

These technocrats with no concept of reality
Tasking – without offering an alternate fate
Demanding citizens for homages to be digital
With no power to control – or else we attenuate

Words of peace have the chance to amplify
Even when we’re feeling out of time/out of sync
Don’t need their fiber optic lies to survive
A blind man loses all when forced to blink

Tapping into a passion without any circuits
Our transistors are live; we’re lovers thus discrete
There’s no stopping us when their signal’s weak
There’s nothing but fire & sparks when our wires meet

This life is forever altered now we’re here
Do not attempt to adjust the squelch
You’re listening to Radio Free America
Standing proud & robust like Raquel Welch

I Want To Know The Secrets

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I want to know the secrets
The ones you have buried deep within
I want you to whisper your love
Kiss me so long they’ll think it’s a sin

Running away from sunsets & goodbyes
Feeling the lead of stained windowpanes
These houses don’t hold strained memories
Washed away in the softening of Winter’s rain

I’m freely exposed in these dimmer days
Wrap me with the sound of rigorous hymns
I listen, but don’t fathom your parlance
I can’t keep up with your acronyms

Collecting Fresh-Faced Girls With Monogrammed Asses

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Collecting fresh faced girls with monogrammed asses
Spending the morning listening to the Blues
An old soul within that youthful mindframe
Toe tapping, blackout shades & misleading tattoos
I begin to think I’m the one lured
But all we have between us is coffee stained mug rings
Embrace the possibilities of the moment
Join in the beauty of desperate sorrow of BB King
This day is such a sunny tease
Through passion, we become another bedpost notch
A memory Today will keep for all posterity
As she makes me taste the glories of her vagazzeled crotch

Ray Bradbury

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“I have never listened to anyone who criticized my taste in space travel, sideshows or gorillas. When this occurs, I pack up my dinosaurs and leave the room.”
― Ray Bradbury, Zen in the Art of Writing