Your Idols Weren’t Half The Men

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Your idols weren’t half the men
They thought they were half a bottle in
Cowardly hiding behind unjust traditions
Sinning while gulping juniper medicinal gin

Their women languishing in the shadows
Cast off from any chance to reach the light
Yet those damsels can see through the dark
The perfect heroine to save an errant knight

Misconstrued notions of dynamic parity
Swabbing the deck with your fallen idol
Ink smudges & literary drudges
Methinks – their mothers should’ve used spermicidal

Where Are Our Notions Of Excellence

Where are our notions of excellence
Who was it who decided upon the benchmark
I’m not concerned with the notches in your belt
Nor the inferiority you felt after dark

We need to find a solution within this realm
To expel those who feed off society’s blues
To exterminate the politicians & profiteers
Our war, our blood & our catastrophic fate

Hot.

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Hot.
That’s all I can think about you
But I’ll restrain myself
Such notions simply won’t do

Lovely, gorgeous or beautiful
I choose to roll off my tongue
You deserve to be treated better
Your praises shall be sung

I Can’t Explain

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I can’t explain
I don’t have the frightful words
Just know I can still feel
Yet my notions contain the absurd

These nuisance actors linger
Youthful mistakes I always regret
The musty smell of a cracked spine
Odes & reams I can never forget

Disquieted Moments In The Afternoon

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Disquieted moments in the afternoon
These Springtime rays have a golden hour
Reflecting youth into my weary eyes
The reassuring notion of dreampower

Yet gone are the mornings we woke afresh
Our mortal flesh reeling down on Earth
Life; the thorn in the side of this existence
Internal fire requires our souls a wider berth

The slings & arrows shall never fully hinder
For love always eventually finds a way
Darkness cannot extinguish the sun
This truth discovered by the piercing light of day

I Think You Have The Wrong Notion Of Me

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I think you have the wrong notion of me
I could be wrong, but it’s what I believe
I’m neither the saint nor the villain
In which your notions are trying to achieve

I’m not nearly as arrogant as I portray
That’s merely the manifestation of a fictional role
I know confidence is sexy & I’m trying my best
But I have doubts regarding the quality of the contents of my soul

A Study In Inexact Notions

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A study in inexact notions
Differences upon the prospective scene
Our unruly burdens confound us
Nothing to save us when life turns mean

Yet we can never let apathy rule the day
In these times, we must be all the more aware
Knowing truth can be unpopular
Yet compassion is the way to genuinely care

Wandering In The Forest

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Wandering in the forest without a notion
With my lovely bride by my side
Looking up at the wonders of nature
Between the trees there’s no room to hide

Finding seasons we don’t know at home
Rain, snow & all other forms of emotion
Transparent dreams offer no resistance
Treasures washed away by the errant ocean

Trying To Overcome An Existential Crisis

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Trying to overcome an existential crisis
Harking back to those foundational years
Emerging out of my own wounded shadow
Striving headlong into those ancient fears
Transitionally limping along these days
But my injuries aren’t those to be seen
Nor the stretch marks upon my soul
Yearning for the notion of becoming clean
Throughout it all, forever fond of the Blonde
Woman, hold me close to your breast
Tell me this life is going to be all right
That together, entangled; we’ll always be blessed

You Have Your Notions Of Me

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You have your notions of me
Whether it’s my rugged good looks
Or I’m a notorious scalawag
Though, I’m neither a hero nor a crook

I’m not a man of much persuasion
Nor am I a wild west outlaw
I choose to wear the eyepatch
But I’m more of a gentleman with flaws

I write fast & love slow
Without a care of what they say about me
When you have faith
You never have to wait & see

I quietly find my secrets within
Descended from that beautiful literary brogue
To hell with the naysayers; we’re gonna have fun
I’ll be your host tonight, the swash-unbuckling rogue

Many out there won’t warm to my charm
Not their cup of tea or simply they’ve no style
But you of good taste & renown class
Come share a spot with the one with the mischievous smile

Broken Umbrellas & Sturdy Desks

Broken umbrellas & sturdy desks
Making no distinctions for the loss of time
Sketching out all the possible plots
Willful heartache remains the worst kind of crime
Put away your stencils & fountain pens
These days call for someone to be original & bold
Toss aside oaken casks of yesteryear’s notion
This world isn’t ready for those who shattered their own mold
Tea cups & china dolls should stay by the wayside
They won’t last long out here if they can’t put up a fight
Early days already simmering, making my coffee feel cold
Survivors must gather; let love be the fruit by which we write

I’m Not Anywhere Near Perfect

I’m not anywhere near perfect
Contrary to your fictitious notions
Examining me through a skewed lens
Though I’ve been cleansed by the ocean
I’m not what you think you want
Flawed in all the wrong places
Underlining fragility & a fractured soul
But you’re still focused on the pretty faces
I can’t explain all the improper deviations
I’m not what you’ve wished you might discover
You’ve transcribed me into a possibility
But I’m already tethered to my perpetual lover
Don’t sacrifice your dreams
For what probably won’t ever be
Hold tight to your illusions
For only then can life set you free

Midnight’s A Fine Time To Take The Jacksonville Train

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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

 

 

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