I’m not proud of my strength
& the tension at its core
Heartbreak of awkward youth
& the pain it always bore
But time passes & we tend to forget
Replaced by tragedy on the evening news
No longer transcribing loss
Nor remembering that fatal bruise
Veering away from mainstream society
Never trusting faces on the news feed
Sensory overload from these endless reels
Algorithm demanding it knows what you need
Don’t try to overthink for yourself
For we have standards to maintain
Get in line, wait for your turn to be free
You’ll go numb; assuredly there won’t be any pain
Rereading Orwell and taking notes
Not going to be ruled nor romanced
By an adolescent philosophy
Anyone’s faulty & retched political stance
We need to think for ourselves again
Too many left for dead it seems
Generation of choreographed absurdity
& gathering the news by sharing memes
But I have faith we can regain our promise
By exposing kindness & compassion instead
It is possible to lead by inspiration
Instead of ruling by threats & dread
***
and another thing;
a note to those in power
we need to rename political parties
CSPAN is the lamest way to spend an hour
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
Paddling around the remotest parts
Looking for hope where there’s no merriment
Our souls evaporating in the open air
Put through this vise of a social experiment
Living out here minus the love & support
There’s only so much a man can endure
Mother Nature whirling up the darkest storms
Blowing away my dreams I’m terribly sure
Hey, hey, hey, pretty mama
Please send me some news
It’s lonesome out here
I’ve got the middle of the ocean blues
Thankful for a little spit of dry land
Feeling a bit wobbly & out of sorts
Having a nice cold one under a palm
Time to recharge my batteries in this port
Soon enough, we’ll be back floating
Feeling the Earth’s rotation upon this burn
Long days of sweat & toiling work
Wearing my body out before I return
Hey, hey, hey, pretty mama
Please send me some news
It’s lonesome out here
I’ve got the middle of the ocean blues
I’m tired of all the mouthpieces & talking heads
I don’t trust anything on the network news
Congress & corporations are intertwined
Aimed at denying our dreams if they could choose
But I’m not going to buy into their systems
I’m not going to line up for them to call me by name
We have to figure out a better way
Or we’ll all be taken under by institutionalized shame
I don’t want to live in a world propelled by evil
I believe this hateful environment is only getting hotter
Can we not treat our neighbors as equals
What kind of world are we leaving for our daughters?
Our fragile egos remain outright
Yet still free – not compelled by those
In the trenches we find disaster
Inspired to richly & sullenly compose
How do we heal? How do we grow?
Absorbing vibrations & her headspace blues
Redefinition of cool among the vulnerable
Rising morale since she turned off the news
Erratic dreams of dismantling love
The early signposts to the apocalypse
Gentle rise becomes glaring to our eyes
Summer mornings feel fresh on our nips
Ground control to juxtaposed fallacies
Squandering purest moments we’ll know
With no intention to rattle a dull saber
Paradise; when I only wanted a cup of joe
I’m not good at keeping secrets
My face said all that needed to be said
I’m judging all the stupid people
I refuse to be soft & cuddly instead
We have too many selfish people
In a time of catastrophe worldwide
Worried about their own cabin fever
Not the repercussions of this time & tide
I called you a fucking moron
But you said I was a little vague
You’re commingling with society
In the midst this Nebonic Plague
I’m from the Fred Durst part of Florida
Not known by the likes of Joe Exotic
& the ignorant coeds on Spring break
Licking doorknobs or whatever they find erotic
I’m on lockdown, cautiously watching the news
Florida’s redneck population can be embarrassing
I’m peeking out from between my fingers
But you still won’t find me watching the Tiger King
Image by Pierre-Laurent Durantin from Pixabay
I know I’m high maintenance
Requiring a lot of attention, affection & affirmation
But I return it all with utmost devotion
Drowning out apathy’s lazy fulminations
Not one to be quiet & demure
She’s the lady I can’t refuse
Always tempted by her presence
Banners at the ready; sing out the news
I contain a physical style of love
Many out there don’t like my PDA
Wishin’ I’d be more subtle
But I’m blessing her with this passionate bouquet
Image by Vitabello from Pixabay
Captain Q 