Picturesque; Popular Version Of Perfection

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Picturesque; popular version of perfection
Flawlessly designed for an afternoon tryst
But there’s something broken in her smile
It appears her panties are in a twist

Few could have complaints on her form
With that yoga toned & sculpted derrière
Feeding on kale & interweb attention
But her soul smelled more like dairy air

She Wore A Smart Suit

She wore a smart suit
Setting her apart from the rest
She was a fine specimen
Altered from her years out West

The tailor created perfection
It loved her feminine curve
The details you won’t miss
Feeling beauty in your structured nerves

Those blonde curls, nice & tight
Noticing underthings peeking through
Regaining my composure in time
Don’t want my excitement to be misconstrued

Image by Daria Nepriakhina from Pixabay

Strapped Into A Mourning Gown

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Strapped into a mourning gown
That might survive our winter garden
Rebasing all these dreams
This predicament has begun to harden;
I beg your pardon
Slowly peeling off your layers
Caught us in a lightning storm
Feeling excited electricity
Between our adrenalized forms
Standing naked before the darkness
Illuminated only by midnight flashes
Perfection within a moment
Emotion dripping from your eyelashes

A Wink from Her To Get My Heart A-Revving

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A wink from her to get my heart a-revving

Her pink negligee hanging below her knee

Soft skin turns into hardened intentions

The promise of a night of debauchery

A bouquet not desired, but a single bloom

Visions of adulation thoroughly taut

I’m rigidly attuned with her frequency

A fine suited man removing a Windsor knot

Fastened to my bedpost; a sailor can surely tie

Settling down with this libertine, methinks

A pretty picture of a delicious woman

Purely polished reflections in my cufflinks

Post coital; passion overflowing this room

Perfection amid people imperfectly real

Precious moments that I’ll never forsake

My woman’s love, allowing me to constantly heal

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

I Trace Your Lips

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I trace your lips with my finger
Such pouty perfection in this face
I want to devour you right here
But in public is not the proper place
So I whisper one word: “tonight”
& let you think upon that all day
You’ll stew & simmer & imagine
How all this love will be conveyed

These Stories Are Figments Of Hope

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These stories are figments of hope
Simple words from a mind of an everyday man
These theatrics of an unknown sort
Living through each day without scope or plan
Journey to the water’s edge to find a salve
To bathe our souls in God’s great sea
I’m not close to your idea of perfection
But I’m forgiven; a better concept to be

Released From The Burden Of Perfection

 

Released from the burden of perfection
Onward to complete this chance
Soaking in my soul’s refraction
I’m not grandiose, but I’ll enhance
Ripening with a golden age
This is nothing but a jagged gleam
A smudge on the stark white page
Determined to be more than a dream

Edgar Allan Poe

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“I have no faith in human perfectibility. I think that human exertion will have no appreciable effect upon humanity. Man is now only more active – not more happy – nor more wise, than he was 6000 years ago.”
― Edgar Allan Poe