Where is my absurd little coffee this morn Claiming to be something or other I rise slower, wiping Pixie Dust from my eyes Never forget the dreams they try to smother My gorgeous blonde lady sleeping peacefully Our love burnt brightly into a passionate fire I stretch my legs & smile at a job well done She’ll slumber for a while, for she’s kind of tired
Plastering the interweb with fragmented thought
Cultivating an insane kind of fame
Convincing an illiterate society
That you’re more than just a silly name
Penning out frivolously piddly odes
Basking in the lack of their attention span
Trying so hard to be cool, plus
Your slams make me not want to give a damn
The barely legible equivalent of an Insta-model
Don’t you know, writers write & speakers squeak
A farce played out in bits & bytes
Preying on the vapid, the stupid & the weak
You’ve grown your hipster beard
You fancy yourself as suave & dapper
But I know your dirty little secret
That you’re no PaRappa the Rapper
Notions of perfection
Falling to fatigue on my soul
Expectations taking control
Society little more than an infection
I’m choking; expiring through this hole
A picture postcard perfect appearance Modest, yet smoldering beauty beneath A festive spirit expounding – Winter’s tales Out singing carols & hanging a wreath
But once you come home for the day Put on those hooker lips & pirate boots Time to release your animalistic desire Tired of being demure & a little too cute
Speak up, stand up; announce to the world
Spread the news of truth’s availability
Don’t be shy; we’re all in this together
Easy now, no need to hate on my virility
I honestly distrust anything popular or sacred
Passing them by & allow them to hide
I have to figure it out 20 years later
Force-filtered through life & time & tide
Opposing magnetic poles claiming Orwell
Both deluding themselves he’s their saint
But he was human & all the related flaws
His divinity seems a little too quaint
We need people with a firm, decisive choice
No interest in your ineffectual, intellectual porn
There’s no time for pussyfooting around
We must find the truth & feed it to the bullhorn
Junky little notes Throwaway lines on the postmodern stage Cultural fragmentation in empty streets Truth whittled away on an evaporating page
The disillusionment of an appropriated life While the world’s on fire; downright ablaze The American Dream sold off to the lowest bidder Feeling dissociative in these recent raucous days
Our dishonest & unaccountable government Are trying to sell you their uninspired vision Trying to sway your vote by gripping your throat But their cockamamy pleas will be met with only derision
Life isn’t as perfect as we make it seem It gets a little messy outside our dreams But newly rise in the early morning hours Sex sweat/coffee fueled; ready for a shower Time to live – life isn’t somethin’ you can stream
I’m not a perfect dream But I’m not a perfect mess I’m somewhere in between But I’m probably a little less I’m out here trying my best Usually in darkness before the day I find at times I just need a hug & for her to tell me I’ll be okay
It’s the littlest things in life
The way you sleep
The way you snore
& I know that I’m the only one
Who gets to see the traits
What I keep loving more & more
Perfect tags & titles Simple little names Fitting nicely into a box You should be ashamed How long did we fight For the people to be free You fold under pressure Not the way it’s supposed to be