We used to know the truth
The fundamentals of our lives
Misplaced inspiration in youth
We, the lost children, who survived
Abandoned by artists searching for gold
Forgetting the dream of accepting yourself
Never admitting we’ve grown this old
Rejection of impending imperial wealth
Fuck your republicans & democrats
Those who sold the vision with betrayal
Insensitive bastards of a Cheshire Cat
Unsteady appeasement & divided we fail
I’m seeking a truth within these fragmented words
My thoughts won’t cooperate with how my fingers move
Typing on this old handmedown machine to transform
My mundane existence into a magical, deliberate groove
I am not afraid to expose the flesh of a wilted soul
There are no heroes in these parts, just broken misanthropes
Internalizing the segmented society & all the villains
Returning to coffee so black the void regains precious hope
You can keep your digital playgrounds
I care not for a Kindle nor a Nook
There’s no time for your technology
At the end of the day, just give me a book
The old fashioned kind, maybe a paperback
Anything without a power source
I don’t need your highbrow radiation
I’ll stick with tangible pages of course
I may hail from generations past
Perhaps I’m boorish, perhaps I’m a lout
But I’m pretty damn basic when the day is done
I’ll still have my pages when the lights go out
Gather around children
It’s time to listen to a tale
Of mean-spirited politicians
& how they’re trying to make society fail
Never trust those your parents elected
They’re out here banning books for kicks
Aggressively stupid speeches at rallies
While demonstrating fascist parlor tricks
Be careful to watch your language
Lest you offend an old white man
Your school libraries might be empty
But I’ll share all the books they ban
Smelling of lukewarm coffee & disillusion
Rough mornings coming from too little sleep
Nightmares of our mutual defaulted dreams
Yet you weren’t rumored to be that deep
Stagnant when we were supposed to be more
Odd vibrations upon the last & final pew
Still looking for Her among mismatched notes
But she can make old poems smell brand new
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
Collecting fresh faced girls with monogrammed asses
Spending the morning listening to the Blues
An old soul within that youthful mindframe
Toe tapping, blackout shades & misleading tattoos
I begin to think I’m the one lured
But all we have between us is coffee stained mug rings
Embrace the possibilities of the moment
Join in the beauty of desperate sorrow of BB King
This day is such a sunny tease
Through passion, we become another bedpost notch
A memory Today will keep for all posterity
As she makes me taste the glories of her vagazzeled crotch
Lost beneath the shipwreck
Down at the bottom of the cove
Suffering from the scurvy
With scant upon our old wood stove
No fresh water nor ripe fruit
Alone with only countless tales
Doomed with no audience nor friend
Fate of those who chase the whale
Drinking wine for old times’ sake
Swilling memories into miraculous rebirth
Our bodies are the height of impermanence
But we seldom understand what we’re worth
This Pirate is an old wives’ tale
Passed on by sorority sisters these days
Mythical pleasure & infatuation –
Fluttering love; let them count the ways
World renowned for his nautical exploits
But it’s not true they were all naughty
Legends told of a bad boy untrue, for
That infamous passion belongs to only one hottie
There are those who think me boring
There are those who think me droll
But I take all their judgements in stride
For I must stay true to my own soul
Their queries do not make me stir
For I no longer have anything to prove
But you better grip these sheets
Lookin’ lovely, hope you’re ready to move
Wasted my youth, obeyed all the rules
I’m enlightened; I’ve learned with time
These days I may be old & grey
But I’m still better than my prime
I’m a solitary figure these days
Although I’m too old to play the fool
Sometimes alone, through rarely free
No longer applying someone else’s rules
Quietly dancing solo these days
Who are we supposed to be then
You disdain my attempts at life
But it wasn’t God who sainted men
Dilapidated pirate cowboy
That won’t grow up
Searching for my Wendy Lady
At the bottom of a plastic cup
Time ticks alarmingly away
Each beat jarring my existence
I keep getting older
No matter my mind’s resistance
Not to keep returning the subject to myself
But there are certain truths I must understand
I’m no one special, a mere footnote
A history to be written, though not as planned
Dreams & hopes that never came to be
A rakish poet nor grizzled old typesetter
Through the years & false daily realities
It is inexplicable the mundane became better
So I find myself with a specific freedom
To be able to move without any sort of cosmic retort
For I have faith in love, fate & ultimate grace
Allowed to live without any innate need to stop short
I’m working on a deliberate sound
Tracking a feeling I’ve never found
Filtering & distilling a final abstract
Like passion was some sort of artifact
They’re still searching for their good luck
Let us dance holes in our old school Chucks
No need to worry about their errant thoughts
Let me strip naked – for I’m kinda hot
With the beat down to your toes
Secrets of my soul, I’ll cautiously expose
OMG! I’m getting old
I’m actively searching
For the edited version
Methodically perching
Watching their content
Preserving young minds
Cultivating the innocence
For you can never rewind
No matter how old I become
I’m still searching; I’m still seeking
Obtaining considerable sums
With any passion, go ahead & start peeking
I’m not one to judge an attitude
I can be sinful so I won’t go there
I’m no Christian Grey, but I’m no prude
If you come unannounced, you’ll find me rather bare
I’m too old to chase you
Regardless of beauty, understood
Taking a step back to see if you wish to continue
For I never want you to walk away for good
Times are tough- its not easy to love forever
I can’t guess how you feel or what it will take
But silence leads to a sharpened sever
I wish to stop this inevitable heartbreak
I’m not naive enough to think things shiny & new
But my pulse is weak; unsure what it can go through
Stretching yoga to Hello Nasty
Bending this body in awkward positions
Head bobs & an elderly b-boy stance
Personal history leads me to contrition
Doc says my ticker isn’t what it once was
My mind is young, but I’m not at my peak
Slowly degrading upon each sunrise
Not quite old, yet bordering on antique
On the shores of Ol’ Patagonia
While the citizens did sleep
Youthful fear of affection
Yet into the woods, they silently creep
Don’t let on how you feel
For you might get what you want
The pain of admitting you care
& perchance it might forever haunt
The burden of carrying embarrassment
& possibly feeling regret this long
Thy youth’s clear true love
But hindsight tells me I was wrong
For I wasn’t brave enough to trust
Too busy being incorrect by name
Fear welling into my soul
But I loved her all the same
It’s not fair to bring up old times
Immaturity & self-reject are not a virtue
I don’t deserve her thoughts nor sentiments
In the end, never good enough for you
Still thinking of what might’ve been
Or an excuse to freshly misbehave
Angst & teenaged awkwardness
Take a shot & take it all to my grave
Working on this beach bod
Lived my whole life up in my head
Trying to become something lovable
Society left me mostly ignored instead
Attempts to create an unique existence
Purging the dreadful; want something more
An authentic soul bent on sincerity
Giving you my all, but you’d rather have Thor
I can’t be anything that I’m not
I’m lifting weight, going for a run
Never listen to what a fool transcends
Getting old is not any fun
Remember the old ways
Scribbling out passionate jots
Secret notes to my beloved
Sharing all my lucid thoughts
Remember feelings of yesteryear
& how we were perfectly aligned
Don’t lose who we used to be
Through time – love remains undefined
Let me get out into the world
While everyone else is still in bed
Let me move these old bones
I need to get fresh air into my head
Too many stagnant mornings
With nothing to show for the exertion
Feeling low in my spirits
Like I’m a soul still prone to desertion
I need to discover a permanent solution
To rid my life of heartbreak & pain
I don’t want to struggle anymore
Results from my effort & not simply remain
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
Smelling like an old man
But a man nonetheless
Reapplying the Old Spice
Sovereignty against the stress
Too many fragrant like chicks
No way for a dude to smell
Are you confused by nature
For I surely cannot tell
Immune to a power surge
I sit alone & quietly type
Not affected by technology
Refuse to be your modern gripe
I switched off my terrestrial radio
But I’ll still pound at these keys
I’m not cool or a trendy guy
I’m reserved, doing as I please
There’s never been an audience
Just a few genuine folks
Sharing myself sparingly
I’m better with these slow strokes
I’ll continue to conjure ideas
Preferring to use my typewriter
Nothing fancy; just a love of words
Old, but I can still pull an all nighter
Our old & forgotten worlds reflect
Manifest destiny lost to distant memory
Totems cast to our missing energy
Fleeting virtues laid upon either plea
Our dissipated youth with judgement paid
Never to return; so get out of your own way
Be in this moment, choose positivity
Plan for the future, but be alive today
Perhaps I’m a bit more prudish
Than I ever expected myself to be
Shying away from their exhibitions
Folding my soul back into propriety
Maybe I’m not as cool as you thought
I’m more of a meandering old fellow
Writing out lines of cautious fantasy
Whereas reality reveals itself to be rather mellow
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
Prophets of a dwindling modern era
Looked upon as mere mischief of ravings
Old souls not to be believed
Our heart’s antidote in the pencil shavings
Our olden fantasies
Not quite matching casual conversation
The heart’s silent secrets
Masked by our gilded incantations
A kind smile to hide our fears
The dreams left by the tragic shore
But there’s always a way back home
To drink from the hopeful waters to finally restore
Battered old blank pages
Waiting to be smeared by ink
Disheveled by passing time
Often fraught with more than we think
Crisp white canvas no longer
Absorbing life as a passerby
So pause before you type
A silent witness to these lies
Stepping out into the light
My eyes can’t adjust to the sunshine
Night left me with nary a sleep
Stumblin’ home to all that’s still mine
Life comes at you hard & fast on the inside
Wondering when the pitches stopped comin’ in underhand
Won’t wallow in misery nor memory of elsewhere’s joy
These speeches fail to convey truth I can’t understand
Where do we go to return to the proper roads
Did I miss the signal for the game to truly begin
I’m old these days; confused by angles & trajectories
Yet I can still & once again wipe myself clear of my sin
“With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.”
― William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice
“I am not young enough to know everything.” – Oscar Wilde
Captain Q 