Late nights blend into early mornings
Up with the weirdos on the street
Seeing visions where the shadows were
My mind tripping; my instincts in retreat
All the sand has fallen from the hourglass
Dangerous curves when I’m confused
Punching time clocks when I should slumber
Paycheck feels light/ feel like I’m being used
Leaving my underwear in the middle of the floor
I need more, but its high time for bed
To sleep, to dream; an impossible task
Passing ships with everything left unsaid
External pressures without comparative edges
Weighing down the spirit of our voice
The uneasy relationship with original thought
Fate passes us by when we cannot rejoice
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
Passing quietly in the night
Unbeknownst to a blind eye
Distractions turning nervous
Youthful visions of a divided sky
Perpetual beauty left ravished
Smudged but steady on course
Redemptions readily available
Without the gale’s full force
Taking time to reside in detail
Coaxing ghosts off the Sunshine Coast
A temper & a crooked smile
The truth when we needed it most
Knowing differences of our secrets
Diligent with passing the changes
I’m fluid in these manipulations
But for her I am, keeping me strange
Reading cracked-spine paperbacks
Wandering by; gently grabbing her waist
Creating space & sending archaic signals
Standing proud, knowing silence accustomed to taste
The passing of time is a mixed blessing
Tapping your foot with your vision blurred
Doing our best, but remaining guilty
Still searching for a way to be cured
Wrapping wrists around the tarnished rosary
Youthful dreams faded from when I wanted to be a saint
My heart still ticks, albeit a little weaker
Remembering those days, but the voices now faint
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
Ghosts in the library – off the rack
Where truth far outweighs the prose
Tender voices of passed miracles
Remembering eventually that’s how life goes
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
Keep a passing eye on fortune
Elevated from a closing remark
Cutting eyes in a curious direction
Distracted by life on a lark
Captain Q 