What Drawer Do You Keep Your Stockings

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What drawer do you keep your stockings
Without secrets this life would be boring
Realize we’re all a little vain
Or we’d never get dressed in the morning

Moonshine martinis for the quiet lady
We all need an excuse to clear our minds
Offering a compassionate ear
The clues exist once you pull back the rind

Finding lipstick stains in the spilled ink
Dangerous curves under a vintage coat
Hushed tones as to not spook such a woman
The peculiarities of each soul; I take note

Unsure Footing On A Spring Night

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Unsure footing on a Spring night
All dressed up, but the music’s wrong
She’s looking quite delectable
She’s tough, so my charm won’t run long

We used to have private parties
Back when we were young & dumb
The future always so far in front of us
I was too preoccupied with getting a crumb

But life goes quicker than we knew
Grappling with how our forties came by surprise
Time may be a fickle little bitch
But she’s still the apple of these eyes

Time Isn’t What It Once Was

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Time isn’t what it once was
No longer a never-ending resource
Now I feel the aches & pains
Groggy; consuming the steaming life-force

Wiping the startled sleep from my eyes
The attempts at a structured morning
Lost a step; hard to think these days
Age comes with little to no warning

Where Is My Absurd Little Coffee This Morn

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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

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

A Cup Of Coffee Sounds Mighty Nice

A cup of coffee sounds mighty nice
Talking away hours in the sun
Warmth after this long cold winter
Experiences overall count as one

Coming times to start all over
No need to hesitate or soften your walk
Forced feelings fall a little short
Take time & measure when you talk

A friend is a friend forever
But be weary as not to injure
Broken hearts never quite heal
Through a loving soul will always endure

Speak Up, Stand Up; Announce To The World

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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

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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