Yardarms swing with the coming storm
The moored ships rock on the rising waves
Only those tied loose will withstand the blow
Sailors don’t have tombstones to adorn a grave
VI. Yardarms Swing With The Coming Storm
loose
Why Are We Out Here Struggling?
Why are we out here struggling
Working our asses off to make ends meet
Inflation keeps on rising
Can only afford to walk down the street
Searching for the righteous path
So I won’t hinder my sisters & brothers
Don’t want to dislodge Oliver’s bowl
Please Mr. President, may I have another?
But he’s in the back, fiddling slowly
Inhaling the fumes from foreign petroleum
While the value of the dollar mmm drops
Loose strings dangle, but he’s not controlling ‘em
Ready to tax any of the alms we might receive
Taking our currency without any thanks
Not looked upon as human beings
Merely a vote they use as their personal piggybanks
Watching The Paper Soak Up Errant Coffee
Watching the paper soak up errant coffee
Spillage; correcting the bland, empty page
Blocked before you wasted the elixir of life
Words summoned now like a pensive sage
Freely letting loose a volley of images
We are released to our new mode of narration
Blinded aesthetics on a crisp winter morning
Forever allowed to remain alive in short bursts of inspiration
Tamping Out The Excess Inspiration
Tamping out the excess inspiration
Shake the thoughts loose & free
Don’t care for your learned quips
If they don’t allow me to see
I’m tired of all the accusations
Yet there remains nary any proof
Let us return our quills to the muse
& turn the future over to the youth
Liberation Granted By The Morning Alarm
Liberation granted by the morning alarm
Still alive; this body aching with rippling fatigue
October visions, yet I’m safe from obvious harm
Visions dwindling; remnants of horrific intrigue
Seeking out coffee to loosen this slumber
A stretch & chance to deliberately mourn
These dreams encrusted in burnt umber
Sworn to abide by the wisdom of Nat Hawthorn
The terror that befalls us when we’re unaware
Soon free from the slow tolling of the funeral bell
Needful sleep caught us within a nightmare
Unconsciously breaking from a manufactured hell
Visions of dropping acid with William Blake
Dawn is our escape; returning to peace as we wake
Midnight’s A Fine Time To Take The Jacksonville Train
Midnight’s a fine time to take the Jacksonville train
Rolling double boxcars to decide our fate
Gotta get back to my lover’s bedside
‘cause women like that don’t hardly wait
Been dreaming of her since the days of steam
Finely dressed woman with incalculable sense
I’m lagging behind schedules & timetables
Hindered by a world of devastating pretense
Spellbound, in the terminal cloister, trying to keep track
Our destiny dwindling, chanced by the tumble of dice
Fearing snake eyes when we need eleven
For lightning isn’t going to strike us down twice
Separation has me feeling on the edge of sincerity
Bleary eyes blinked time & again for some sanity
I’m not emotionally set up for these tribulations
Fear of failing, yet no marks upon my frivolous vanity
Memories of forgotten moments in the text
Perhaps it’s time for me to remain fully alert
But I can’t ignore how my insides churn
The notions of the woman so beautifully pert
It’s risky to return my heart for ante
Somewhere she’s loosening her bustle
This venture is getting out of hand
When she’s applying her legendary hustle
Pulling into the station, I know my lot
A few hours late; enough for passion to be reclaimed
I’ve tried my best, but crapped out again
In my weakness, I become loved; that’s when the angels came
Image by Khusen Rustamov from Pixabay
Loosen The Screws
Loosen the screws
Scale down the intensity
You’re living too stressed
As is your propensity
Kick off your shoes
No purpose for those heels
Time for a life change
Soak in something you can feel
Walk a ways with me
Let the sunshine impede
My hand; avoid the tide
For this is all you need
Finding An Edge To Life
Finding an edge to life
Loose thread; ripping out the seams
Setting out for an independent life
No purpose if they’re not your dreams
Perplexing choices to those
Who forgot to shake in quaking fear
You hope to wither in the memory
Of these who are content to remain here
I Didn’t Mean To Get Too Personal
I didn’t mean to get too personal
I merely noticed your exposed slip
My thoughts took me to uncharted waters
Thinking of us – alone- a subtle skinny dip
An abandoned wedding gown crumpled
The satin too white against your lace
I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel
Though I could see the muted joy in your face
You kicked off your heels & removed your gloves
Walking too close you whispered ‘yes’ to my surprise
I loosened my tie before you took charge
I’ll never forget how you looked with your laughing eyes
Only Loyal To The Dead
Only loyal to the dead
Keeping faith with those gone before
Thoughts hard to shake loose
My left foot dragging on the floor
What did I drink last night
Her voice pounding in my head
Regret fills me from within
I know I should have drank water instead
Captain Q 