Blowing The Dust Off Our Individuality

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Blowing the dust off our individuality
Making sure our hands have the proper grip
Clutching the pen to jot a delicate ode
Black coffee; bold inscriptions with each sip

Once awake, I turn to the written word
Exacting the notes conjured; never by rote
Lost with the margins of a fool’s errand
I’m quiet, but compassion might just be the antidote

Y’all, We Have Soccer Moms Trying To Ban Books

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Y’all, we have soccer moms trying to ban books
Wishing to shield things they don’t want you to know
But revolutions & thoughts just won’t burn
Intellect cannot be stopped, you merely make them slow

These fundamentalists get hot under the collar
When they see repression, they begrudgingly swoon
A weird fetish to extinguish ideas & desire
Appalled by anyone thinking of Love before noon

The censorious are coming for your hearts & minds
Seething with hate for anything silently inappropriate
Your Book declares thou with sin cannot cast thy stone
Minor scandals not so obscure when karma retaliates

Being fallacious isn’t as grand as it sounds
Yet, ya’ll out here in the streets committing slander
I refuse to pander to your anger & delusions
You’re just waiting to be shut in, unloved; smelling of dander

Do you ever find yourself lost within your misguided intent
I realize you’re genuinely hoping to shield the youth
But they don’t need your unfounded reservations
Nor do they respect your faulty judgement in hiding the truth

Please, cease & desist with your moral hubris
You’re foolish, stop before you fulfill the prophesies of 1984
You’re Orwellian without the perfect irony
But, you’re not ready to deal with the weight of evermore

Bradbury warned us about erroneous application of law
I can see we won’t keep our rights without a fight
Justice leading us into a deprivation of choice
You need to remember Jesus hung with ladies of the night

Within your imprudent latching, you’ve been misled
Matters not if you have delicate sensibilities, the Piper will get paid
I believe you to be rash, but I’m no one of any consequence
I may be deluded, but I believe you gotta get properly laid

I’m Not Your Reluctant Hero

 

I’m not your reluctant hero
I’m nothing along those lines
Don’t think so highly of a fool
With your lips crumbling into your wine

Please don’t raise me up to be much
I’m not what you see with your eyes
A figment of an imagination’s dream
I’m lost within these warm Florida skies

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

Unplugging From The Mainframe

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Unplugging from the mainframe
Remaining forever off the grid
Don’t need their connections
Don’t know if we ever truly did

The final tragic hero of a modern culture
The soul survivor of a discarded revolution
Histories & experience outside the norm
Dreams of freedom with divine attribution

Dealing with the conceits of perfection
The concepts of loneliness & betrayal
This world isn’t what we were promised
Token hints lost behind a fractured veil

The answers are hidden beyond this life
It may look bleak, but don’t you fret
We have the Source of Light
& they’re still riding that ol’ dialup internet

Delayed Motion Of Her Hand

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Delayed motion of her hand
Lost in thought; unable to translate
The slippery notion of time
Within the energy of a tangible fate

Let us remain discrete in our words
She tries to focus as I obnoxiously flirt
Concentrating on writing proper forms
Caught her unaware as I reached up her skirt

Watching The Condensation Seep Into The Desk

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Watching the condensation seep into the desk
I think of the glories that have gone away
The ice melting/mixing into my single malt
I’ve been nervous, but I’m okay by the end of the day

These days weren’t the ones we’ve been dreaming of
Idealistic thoughts when we were on foreign shores
Imagining celebrities dancing in their formalwear
Fancy & festive role models displayed forevermore

Upon the big screen & locked into our minds
Americana lost & the golden age of Hollywood
Stoking the passion of our fervid imaginations
Inspiring our dreams like nothing else ever could

Our hopes & desires abandoned & hung out to dry
March realizations our fantasies are mere celluloid
The cold night, withering on the streets alone
Upon the credits, leaving the theater broke & into the void

Sheets & Reams Of The Nonsensical

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Sheets & reams of the nonsensical
Literary blood lost in the shadow of ink
The lifeforce of a simmering soul
Marginal hearts writing love against the kitchen sink


Leaving behind the caricature of an artist
Contributions to society felt in these empty sheets
Fingersmudges marking pages not so white
Starkly exposed with revolutionary words in the streets


Traces of hereditary ideals eroding away
Igniting pages shall still be a stilted sin
Yet we rise again from our desert floor
Eternally grateful our finite letters aren’t porcelain

Lost In The Silhouette Of A Shadow

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Lost in the silhouette of a shadow
Emerging as the heat begins to recede
We cannot know what the day holds
Only the way our imagination feeds

Getting outside while the city still sleeps
Early, but I need to get air into these lungs
Darkness illuminates my quiet solitude
Exposing the songs we need to be sung

I feel lost & ineffectual most days
But I haven’t given up living yet
Stretching this old body once more
Finding answers once I’ve sweat

I’m Not A Joiner

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I’m not a joiner
I’m deliberately choosing not to join your group
Breaking free of these inconsistencies
Past sins & missteps on an endless loop

I inherently distrust any gathering of people
Seeing we’re doomed to live out the follies of youth
We lost our way & never came back
Now spurned forward by the allure of truth

Writing Sonnets For My Beloved

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Writing sonnets for my beloved
But I cannot speak in pentameters
The lines & sentiment lost on my tongue
Erasing the stray marks upon the parameters

Mother Nature is exhausted
Discovering it’s time to hibernate
Humble beauty of the landscape
Folding into herself unto the infinite

Hearing the last strains of Autumn
But the air is still hot
Clinging to a customary belief
While we hide behind a fig leaf
But we all know leaves fall and rot

They No Longer Play Poetry On The Radio

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They no longer play poetry on the radio
No longer exposed to life’s contextual details
We’re all lost; floating through time
Enchanted; told to swallow modern fairytales

But I’m trying to work out the specifics
Finding the reasons between the transistors
I’m guessing we’re still prone to biology
& physical failures of why I can’t resist her

Hymns For Modern Children

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Hymns for modern children
A return to morbid fairytales
Truth being slowly digested
Compassion when beauty fails

Lost in this troubled society
Where equality goes to die
Slaughtered dreams
& a speck in your brother’s eye

Life can be tough, harsh even
It seldom matters if you’re right
Morality often seems hijacked
& then they bid you a sweet goodnight

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

They Don’t Have Men

They don’t have men
Down at the newspaper anymore
Dusty ages disagree
They’ve forever closed the door

They’re hiding the truth
In the time of an information superhighway
Where they locked away Dignity
They’re not telling, they won’t say

We’re on our own out here alone
You think we’re lost & have much to fear
Stranded under this desert sky
Be still thy soul, for I was born out here

Picking Out Tunes From A Lost Childhood

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Picking out tunes from a lost childhood
Icons from an isolated life; memories fleeting
Can’t keep track of my overblown tragedies
My own imagination responsible for these beatings

My past is a weight, tugging at my fragile soul
Written missives, but she flew off to Ontario
Shunning my offerings for a comprehensive life
I speak of love, but she merely turns up the stereo

Knowing The Bottom Of The Depths

Knowing the bottom of the depths
Untold theories where passion lies
Encased all in a delicate French lace
The truth that logic & gravity defies

Earthbound creatures can’t be understood
It’s simply not in our fallible DNA
Attempted in conversational tones
But we’ve lost connection anyway

Trying to find a way back to the meaning
Reason doesn’t apply to moments like this
Disregard the pressures of our past
That we might create our own sustainable bliss

Image by Dayron Villaverde from Pixabay 

Riding The Cooler Winds Back East

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Riding the cooler winds back east
Someday my simple dreams will prevail
Spent too many nights frozen & cold
Once again lost, I know he’s on my trail

Speak to me, for I’ll know if you tell the truth
Look at me, so I’ll know we’ll make it through
This soul damaged in these distant years
Wanting to be pure & return back to you

I need to shine down a path for your life
I want to be an example for you as you grow
May you always have shelter to weather a storm
I contain a perfect love you’ll come to know

You don’t know it yet, but you’re going to save me
A lifetime of joy just waiting for us to find
Adventures & endless discoveries ours to share
A new life, released from that which binds

*written many moons ago before the birth of my first child

Oh, Where Does Our Journey End

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Oh, where does our journey end
Or begin, as it so often might seem
Futile attempts to erase the past
The unknown details of our dreams

The open road panders to a false escape
The mere opportunity to rewrite a sojourn
Jesus perambulating with Uncle Walt
Debating the path; perchance to learn

Shaky prospects in apportioned time
Manifest destiny teases Ginsburg & Kerouac
Further roads leading to ornate wisdom
& we keep it concealed out in the back

Thoreau mocking society with his solitude
Knowing alone is the greatest we could ever be
Thoughts come to us in gentle waves
That perhaps our visions should become the sea

A reinterpretation of westward expansion
Route 66 cross-contaminating Highway 61
All roads have never led us home
Emily tempting Death with her life left undone

The growing wisdom of our consumed space
Emerson’s penning pre-revolutionary blues
Introducing our souls to unrefined grace
The Good Lord providing Her unfiltered muse

Feeble humanity; lost across the tracks
Original sin that we’ve taken on the chin
Sifting thought; we might be welcomed again
But knock off the Devil’s dust before you come in

Cold Coffee & A Stash Of Lost Dreams

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Cold coffee & a stash of lost dreams
A distant memory of those rail yards
But we weren’t ourselves with honesty
Not the renegades or anything that hard


Images of what we might yet become
Grabbing self-regard before it fades
Destroying their notions of modernism
Returning to polka dotted shirts & dark shades


We all have our morbid skeletons
The vague semblance of a broken soul
But somewhere are the clues to the truth
Somewhere when lightning meets a weary, old skull

My Hands Shake

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My hands shake
As I raise an overfull cup of coffee
Perhaps already had enough
But I’ll continue to be me

These roads, waterways & paths
The most beautiful moments I’ve come across
I love you, but I sometimes I have needs
Today I’m going to purposely get lost

I’m So Happy, I’ll Dance You A Jig

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I’m so happy, I’ll dance you a jig
With my eyes open, these dreams so big

Still living this life with childhood eyes
Truth always revealed as the tears dried

Sailing ships, battered by wind & storm
Ignoring reason, logic & the accepted norm

Life gets hectic, it’s often a terrible mess
Never grow up, push past into happiness

Fairy influence & the magic it might behold
Let us go now & create a story that’s yet untold

Where love & insanity will always meet
The freedom within our wild heartbeats

Close your eyes, finding something lost
Your favorite memory forever embossed

Tossed into slumbering pages of a book
Captive audiences held by Captain Hook

The golden cutlass, the prize of his plunder
Sharp, but wit marks our Boy Wonder

The best things in life are never planned
Without remorse, we return to Neverland

Suburban Arcades & Record Stores

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Suburban arcades & record stores
Love notes left jammed in the teletype
Ancient technologies lost to whims of time
Sacrilege of consuming before it’s ripe

Littered by dreams of public-school poets
Falling to the feminine side of healing
Whose obedience to authority lingers
But only the lonely are rhymin’ & stealin’

Our literary antihero catching the cliff notes
A repressed childhood is still better by half
Trying to make up for that deleted time
But you can’t get far by writing on decaf

Standing with arms braced to the wind
Needing antiquity to know how we perform
Rolling empty dice against our loaded fates
Summer on the coast ensures the storm

Emerging From The Night Of Lost Souls

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Emerging from the night of lost souls
A rough morning with make-up in your eyes
Playing with fire when you dressed like Hell
You believed the Devil when he whispered his lies
Another exhilarating night of sin extinguished
But your heart now belongs to the man of flames
You don’t remember how your dress got burnt
Or how your lovely chest was branded with his name

 

Image by Анастасия Гепп from Pixabay

Crawling Away From Sudden Shores

Crawling away from sudden shores
Locked away in anterior rooms
Sunlit beauties try to remain pale
Complexities of intimate bedgloom

Modern mermaids express themselves
Repelled by their former clamshell
Their silence betrayed the insane
Meeting up again behind the bandshell

Eastbound Portola around the curve
Writing hard to retain your shape
Lost in the Inner Sunset
Catching the N Judah to escape

Ocean Force Winds

sailing-vessel-1861783Crisp ocean force winds

Gentle fresh citrus scent

Lost upon the eternal sea

Forgot where beauty went

A treatise of delicate love

Evidence of a ghost

Smile your sweet smile

I’ve left for the coast

Sound of muted voices

She’s a little too cute

Allowing no more secrets

Down through my roots

Been Listening To Chet Baker All Day

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Been listening to Chet baker all day
A friend said it’d make me a better person
I’m closing my eyes while the sounds take over
I’m imagining a lost era

Every man knowing how to wear a suit
Every lady in a tailored dress

Mad Men fiction – but with a tangible feel

A stiff drink to calm my modern nerves
& realize I yearn for well dressed people

With manners.

The Warmth Of The First Coast Has Returned

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The warmth of the First Coast has returned

But the ocean haze is beating out the sunshine

Sitting on the boardwalk, cold drink in my hand

My love reading me the pages of ‘Dandelion Wine’

Summer hasn’t arrived with its full force

In the breeze, the air cool, yet warm for March

Sideways glances, thinking of her last night

Her beauty mine to behold, her back perfectly arched

Watching children playing in the surf

These quiet beaches surrounded by thick mangroves

A wilderness of paradise’s perfect setting

Your whole life waiting for such an idyllic trove

Where there’s no concern for silly tan lines

The sunshine kissing our bodies like a magic wand

Getting lost, leaving unmentionables on the line

Removed from sight, her underbrush covered by palm fronds

It’s different once your cross into the sand 

Slow your mind, pour a frozen drink & a slice of Key Lime

Colors, flavors & appetites are all enhanced down here

Mother Nature’s sun, precise remedy for the Wintertime

Image by Paul Brennan from Pixabay

Now That I’m Old…

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Now that I’m old, there’s no chance to be cool
I’m that creepy lurker passing the delicates isle
Finding myself lost in nebulous thought
Youth dropping their eyes while I try to smile

You can’t be friendly when you’re a certain age
Somewhere along the line, I missed my cue
Oblivious to the graffiti on the decaying walls
I’m slowly dying, more with each day that’s through

Stuck before I can be the wisened old fellow
Conversations with alter egos as I deliberate
Taunting life with my aggressive apathy
Father Time impatiently waiting for my cryptic fate

A litmus test for fragile character upon my days
Emerging from adulthood with wisdom in my head
Never again a victim to society’s whims
Pushing past expectations; my own hero instead

Rising higher than their own trite requirements
Still not accepted & still the silly old fool
Sketchy, weird & perpetually the outcast
Damn, there went my last chance to finally be cool

Excuse Me, Miss

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Excuse me, Miss
I need help between the books
You look down your glasses at me
Don’t worry about their errant looks
You’re dressed mighty nice
I think it’s by the back shelves
It seems I’ve gotten us lost
Oh my, I think we’re by ourselves
I pull you in close
A hand sneaks under your skirt to play
You moan aloud; onlookers’ smile
Apparently we’re still on display

 

Image by Eli Digital Creative from Pixabay

Willfully Getting Lost In The Woods With My Woman

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Willfully getting lost in the woods with my woman
Far from the hordes of the sick & infected
Shutting doors & leaving society behind
Once away, fresh air & peaceful intent detected

Outside, I can find the crispness of nature
& my pure, unencumbered path to be free
Wrapping my soul within Winter’s chill
These unharnessed elements might be the key

Empty Wine Bottles Clink; Devoid Of All Inspiration

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Empty wine bottles clink; devoid of all inspiration
But that’s not the way you remembered they bled
Choosing the perfect wording for posterity
A trembling shadow of what the poets once said

We once set out to create a fresh universe
But that’s not the way I can any longer think
Falling in love with strange, beautiful women
The source & reason for all the dedicated ink

Our souls entwined in deliberate communion
But that’s not the way that I came to be lost
Specific writings to engrave our cosmic lust
Forever entombed within this highland frost

thinking nostalgic thoughts

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thinking nostalgic thoughts
on an empty stomach
rediscovering grunge tunes
stuck at home in a pandemic
remembering the pain of high school
couldn’t fit in anywhere
reliving dark moments
where it could’ve ended
remembering lost loves
& how warm they made you feel
but you know it wasn’t real
leaving you cold & alone
abandoned until life truly began.

The Twinkling Of Stars At Night

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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

Lost In A Deteriorating Moment

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Lost in a deteriorating moment
What more can we do to be free
Close our eyes to the darkness
Tiptoeing quietly, down to the sea
Searching franticly for the answer
But the obvious truth is often a ghost
False memories are unruly traipses
Inclinations leading me, down the coast
Is there a way to be clean again
To bathe in the ocean’s gentle roar
Hope against hope; possibly a way
To find sunshine that might restore

The Indoctrination Is Complete

 

The indoctrination is complete
They molded you just right
Removing the will to struggle
Stripping you of the desire to fight
You work for them these days
A concise, common goal
Gone are the thoughts of freedom
An iron fist smashing your soul
No longer an individual
Lost all your character traits
You belong to the system now
Let your bones fill with hate

Counting All My Cufflinks

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Counting all my cufflinks

You tied my perfect tie

Another night by the bay

Lost within the foggy sky

Seeming to float as you walk

Affection rose by a mere kiss

Evening air cool upon your soul

Never knew we could be like bliss

Your dress flailing behind

Setting down an opaque trail

Everything a dream could be

Forever wrapped by the sail

 

Tom Waits

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“If you’re in the middle of the ocean, with no flippers and no life preserver and you hear a helicopter, this is music. You have to adjust to your needs at the moment.” – Tom Waits

Milton

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“What though the field be lost?

All is not lost; th’unconquerable will,

And study of revenge, immortal hate,

And courage never to submit or yield.

 

– Milton: Paradise Lost, 1667