Riding The Winds Of The Hurricane

Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

Riding the winds of the hurricane
Knowing we’re going to lose power
Stacking the ends of loose leaf paper
Don’t know the time/ don’t know the hour

Pouring a drink, settling in this night
Toast the storm, this one’s going to be a fighter
But when all is said & done
Imagination is how I fuel my typewriter

Rubbing Their Fingers Over The Stereo Knob

Photo by Victoria Borodinova on Pexels.com

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

The Twinkling Of Stars At Night

Photo by Jeswin Thomas on Pexels.com

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

Love Letters To Myself

Photo by Samuel Silitonga on Pexels.com

Love letters to myself
A hug written upon a notecard
Scribbles for no one else
Sometimes life is just too hard
Taking moment away from the herd
Break off from all that I know
Losing myself in nature’s glory
Words can slow the overflow
Breathe – just letting it happen
Soon, I’ll be able to take some more
Reflecting my small truths
It’s easier to recover upon the shore

Ernest Hemingway

beach-677785_1920.jpg

 

“The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.”

Ernest Hemingway, Men Without Women