I’m A Solitary Figure These Days

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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

I Once Had A Chicken That Went Meow

I once had a chicken that went meow

I need to go I need to get out now

They’re after me, you must understand

Please help me, gimme a hand

I’m constantly having to watch my back

To keep them from giving me the smack

Soon I’ll be taking flight

I’ll be gone before the night

The moon still shines in the day

It’s part of their sinister plan

When they get me, I’ll say

Who’s you, man?!

Sun, beaches & waves

To save yourself, you must be brave

I must not make a sound

Or else I’ll be found

They’ll torture me till I’m blue

I’ll cry & scream out for you

Would you come rescue me

Would you come set me free

My childhood comes wanting to play

How long till oppression they will ban

Soon my mind will stray

& I’ll say, who’s you, man?!

Circa 2000

(An old poem that reminds me how simple life once was)

Make Sure You Call Her Beautiful

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Make sure you call her beautiful
Don’t refer to her as merely ‘hot’
Don’t say tits or tatas
Be respectful of all that she’s got

Be charming when you speak of your lady
Be a gentleman; know how the game is played
Don’t divulge any of her secrets
When you shut your mouth; a better chance to get laid

They No Longer Play Poetry On The Radio

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They no longer play poetry on the radio
No longer exposed to life’s contextual details
We’re all lost; floating through time
Enchanted; told to swallow modern fairytales

But I’m trying to work out the specifics
Finding the reasons between the transistors
I’m guessing we’re still prone to biology
& physical failures of why I can’t resist her

Dressed To Instantly Kill

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Dressed to instantly kill
No use for a Wonderbra
The sass in your hips
You’re clearly bourgeois

Dancing beside the bar
Telling me some dirty jokes
A subtle, seductive attitude
Smiling between the sly tokes

The band is still playing
Accustomed to rooms so plush
Focusing on my quiet charm
Your attention makes me blush

I’m trying to keep up
But I’ve only been with local girls
You lead me by the hand
& soon only wearing those pearls

The Drippings Of My Mind

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The drippings of my mind
The office, a soul in paper mâché
Books & notes of imagination
A collection of stories we played

It’s a subtle knowledge herein
Years of experience slightly compressed
Nicks, faults & scars smoothed over
Though I remain unimpressed

Scratching away at this drivel
Nothing created in which to be content
Scrambling for fresh ideas
At this pace, I’ll never relent

What Do I Do With My Words

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What do I do with my words
How do I contain when they start to leak
Like the Little Dutch Boy
Who’s listening when I start to speak
But I can’t worry about the audience
I’ve got to keep playing my own tune
The steady groover with the proper notes
When it comes to our hearts, no one is immune

Excuse Me, Miss

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Excuse me, Miss
I need help between the books
You look down your glasses at me
Don’t worry about their errant looks
You’re dressed mighty nice
I think it’s by the back shelves
It seems I’ve gotten us lost
Oh my, I think we’re by ourselves
I pull you in close
A hand sneaks under your skirt to play
You moan aloud; onlookers’ smile
Apparently we’re still on display

 

Image by Eli Digital Creative from Pixabay

I Won’t Impress You

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I won’t impress you
Doesn’t matter who you are
I drink cheap wine
But enjoy Cuban cigars
I won’t play that game
There’s no benefit to me
This heart is not for sale
Honest, humble & eternally free