Please Don’t Question My Reality

Please don’t question my reality
You’re pandering to a common goal
I’m eradicating acute boredom
Freeing another fractured soul

Redefining fantasy on a personal level
The subtle witness under the veil
Finding happiness outside expectation
Wishing our dreams weren’t so frail

Our Solemn Tales Of Passion & Woe

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Our solemn tales of passion & woe
My life is to slyly denote
Vigor sizzles quietly away
We try any which way but by rote

Always there to circumvent
Employing a nudist typist
But you get the gist eventually
You know, he was there to assist

You rushed out of my life & into the library
I still lust for you in that black dress
Never ashamed of how I feel
Surprised you expected any less

Shipwrecked.

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Shipwrecked.
Isolated on foreign shores since then
Surrounded by predators
Judgement & leers by creepy men
Can only do her best to survive
Keeping quiet in their midst
Don’t want to provoke the beast
Won’t fade to obscurity she insists
It’s complicated to remain equal
These days one must be agile
She keeps them at bay with a grin
While remaining firm but not fragile

Life Should Have More Dancing

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Life should have more dancing
More twirls, laughs, dips, lifts & general glee
We can make anything happen
Once she comes home with me


A dream can be a reality if she believes
I know the passionate way I would hold her
My own heart pumping infinite love
Visions of slipping that dress off her shoulders


I wish to caress her by candlelight
Looking into my eyes, asking for more
Whispering all the things she wants
Dancing close until our bodies are sore

Forevermore Villanelle

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It’s not too much to ask for
Cold chilling to our bones
When we’re together forevermore

Wrap yourself tightly, I implore
Through love, we must atone
It’s not too much to ask for

Briskness recalls days of yore
Nostalgia to which we’re prone
When we’re together forevermore

Battered ships upon the same shore
Knowing we’re never alone
It’s not too much to ask for

Feeling the true price of this war
Pages of guilt written in stone
When we’re together forevermore

Tossed in the bottom drawer
Realities remaining unknown
It’s not too much to ask for
When we’re together forevermore

Standing Wobbly-Legged

 

Standing wobbly-legged
Spread stance, with a mock salute
Whispering; describing her desires
Soon, I hope she won’t be so mute

Passion of an fantastical nature
Possibly seeming like it’s unreal
Motioning me to come forth
Promises of a love I can feel

Building to a palpable potency
A tangible form of bemused intrigue
Charmed to dizzying arousal
Winding to a whirlwind fatigue

With which note to thoroughly enchant
Steps so sure that time cannot lapse
A smirk; mouthing words to erupt
But knowing I’ll finally leave her unclasped

I Want To Write

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I want to write
But I don’t have the words
So I watch the ink seep silently
I know you’re thinking I’m absurd

So many empty notebooks
To fill with small little doodles & swirls
Intimidated by the stark whiteness
I don’t know how to create lasting worlds

Pondering & delving into thought
Present in my feelings with offerings to burn
Slowly churning my fickle imagination
In the hopes a bit of creativity might return

Feigning The Glamorous Life

Feigning the glamorous life

Proof of the shiny being a mirage

Charlatan; promising a false idol

Arbiter of a fictional montage

The veil covering honest intentions

Quiet manipulation of time

Epiphanies with truth in reality

But I now know, I’d rather be in the grime

Awake Early In The Naked, Teal Morning

Awake early in the naked, teal morning
Still wet from dancing in the rain
My subconscious kissing her femininity
But the memories remain love-stained

Her fingers gripping my shoulders
Our souls constantly trying to absorb
Soft, low moans quietly evident
I’m enchanted by her fleshy orbs

We’re exposed in the light of dawn
A realness that won’t be concealed
We have a glow of our own
No words exist, but a truth she can feel

Watching The Condensation Seep Into The Desk

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Watching the condensation seep into the desk
I think of the glories that have gone away
The ice melting/mixing into my single malt
I’ve been nervous, but I’m okay by the end of the day

These days weren’t the ones we’ve been dreaming of
Idealistic thoughts when we were on foreign shores
Imagining celebrities dancing in their formalwear
Fancy & festive role models displayed forevermore

Upon the big screen & locked into our minds
Americana lost & the golden age of Hollywood
Stoking the passion of our fervid imaginations
Inspiring our dreams like nothing else ever could

Our hopes & desires abandoned & hung out to dry
March realizations our fantasies are mere celluloid
The cold night, withering on the streets alone
Upon the credits, leaving the theater broke & into the void

Sheets & Reams Of The Nonsensical

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Sheets & reams of the nonsensical
Literary blood lost in the shadow of ink
The lifeforce of a simmering soul
Marginal hearts writing love against the kitchen sink


Leaving behind the caricature of an artist
Contributions to society felt in these empty sheets
Fingersmudges marking pages not so white
Starkly exposed with revolutionary words in the streets


Traces of hereditary ideals eroding away
Igniting pages shall still be a stilted sin
Yet we rise again from our desert floor
Eternally grateful our finite letters aren’t porcelain

Have We Forgotten That We’re A Rebellious People

Have we forgotten that we’re a rebellious people

Cashing checks under a drifter’s pseudonym

But together, we race across time, surviving

Embracing the unity of singing outlawed hymns

 

Lately, crying about a falsified history

Disillusioned, disappointed, disingenuous

I have no faith in movements and isms

They’re tinged with the superfluous

 

I believe in honor & service to the people

Treat each as an individual, never a group

Freedom & liberty distilled down to purest forms

Or else, we’ll see this hatred played out in an endless loop

 

 

*Here’s another older one that I think we could all use the message in these trying times.

Too Many Punks

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Too many punks
But only in the aesthetically pleasing sense
Bought their shirts at the 5 & Dime
Along with safety pins
& commercially foraged tattoos

(Can we discuss how punk’s not supposed to be safe?)

Where’s the independence?
Where’s the penchant to damn the man?

Find your sovereign spirit
For no one’s really punk
Until everyone thinks they’re uncool

She’s Alone

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She’s alone
In spite of all the adoring eyes
Propped firmly on the pedestal
A solitary witness when lust dies

She’s been up there in isolation
The heroine of the bell tower
A slight teeter in her stance
Still defying gravity on the hour

Her alabaster skin shines at night
A chance to quietly & decidedly atone
The decadence of her marble bust
Fingerprints on her heart of stone

Another teary-eyed princess
With a vintage, tarnished crown
Yet, I cannot stop worshipping her
For who’ll catch us, when we all fall down

But from this distance
I cannot properly love her

Lost In The Silhouette Of A Shadow

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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

Too Many Loud Souls/When Silence Will Do

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Too many loud souls/When silence will do
Fools too busy collecting trophies & stickers
Not focused on truth of what matters
Sneaking glimpses of soul-revealing knickers

But they’re plastic; not of a proper diet
A mere aesthetic for the internet’s sake
The superficial appetites of modern times
I long for days when passions weren’t fake

Somewhere there is something incorruptible
Something pure that we might know
To purge our lives of superfluous antics
To feel a little more real & a little less faux

Collecting Fresh-Faced Girls With Monogrammed Asses

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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

Sitting Above The Town

Sitting above the town
Talking low in the neon’s glow
Discussing romance & bathtub gin
We’re no experts, save what the shadows know

Rejecting chemical imbalance theories
Sunshine blocked out by the billboards
Late afternoon excursions to avoid reality
A gentle touch to escape the heinous hordes

But the truth cannot be forever skirted
Some days you must wake & simply endure
But the beauty of life will shine on though
With a taste of happiness that’s always pure

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

The Magic Of The Holidays Still Gets To Me

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The magic of the Holidays still gets to me
You’ll find me wiping my tears with a sleeve
I’m not ashamed to outwardly proclaim it
I still believe

These days I walk the streets with childlike innocence
Searching for anything with the Christmas spirit
But I find most of the world has become Scrooge
A sad truth & many of you don’t wanna hear it

But I know we can be better than this
All of us can always return back here
To the love & magic of the Holidays
Let me be the first to pour you a cup of cheer

Riding Out These Rough Seas

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Riding out these rough seas
Trying to shield our shipwrecked daughters
Storms moving in on us rather quickly
Feeling Hell’s heat & it’s only getting hotter
From port to port, not knowing where to go
Remaining free & clear is the only way to live
Every day out on this cleansing ocean
I pray to the Lord, in the chance He might forgive

Where Is My Absurd Little Coffee This Morn

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Where is my absurd little coffee this morn
Claiming to be something or other
I rise slower, wiping Pixie Dust from my eyes
Never forget the dreams they try to smother
My gorgeous blonde lady sleeping peacefully
Our love burnt brightly into a passionate fire
I stretch my legs & smile at a job well done
She’ll slumber for a while, for she’s kind of tired

There Are Those Who Think Me Boring

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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

Alone With My Thoughts

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Alone with my thoughts
Shut up in this temporary, two room apartment
Thinking through imagination
Rack my brain to conjure anything Heaven sent

Ink spilled, but nothing to write home about
Languished notions in an attempt at creation
Yet a vision of satire is all that I am
Craving a spark; anything to produce elation

Those Matchbox Fantasies

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Those matchbox fantasies
Gunmetal grey panties with soft pink polka dots
She placed a stiletto on her wooden leg
Character assassination plots go all for naught
Unassuming by way of distraction
She’s hiding a switchblade under that dress
She’s dangerous down to her core
A beautiful woman – you don’t want to mess
Beware of their corrosive accolades
There’s no exoneration in the line of fire
She’s insolent about your theoretical love
In the end, she’s killed you with her underwire

Our Nakedness Is Best

Our nakedness is best

Embracing the natural glory of bridal lust

Silken sheets draped over vulnerable flesh

Nothing more generous than her copious bust

Searching for each other in the dark

Feeling the nerves of the unnamed

Blamed for objectification of beauty

Obscured by passion of the untamed

Invoking the obstacle to love

Falling voiceless midstream

Our consensual fantasies

Not a normal woman, yet a rare dream

Let me compose my magnum opus

Moans & silences are highly deductive

We cling to each other forever

Yet the eye contact is steadily seductive

Perfect tendencies as I slowly caress

Knowing the words to make you blush

Grand moments of our unrestrained union

Grateful you’re still my soul-revealing crush

I Love You, Woman

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I love you, dear woman
You make this life worth living
You always know how to make me smile
You really care & are always giving
I’m proud to call you my wife
You’re beautiful with ample –
Damnit –

What rhymes with cleavage?

Attempting To Maintain Where Imperfections Shunned

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Attempting to maintain where imperfections shunned
Marching toward time with the burden of flaws
Waking to find age has not been kind
Slowly decaying according to physics and natural laws

Mortality; a stark reminder of life
Leaving me kneeling with a heart full of hymns
My soul rejecting this modern existence
Yet, no matter what, I refuse to be society’s Hester Prynne

That Time For Announcing A Thankful Heart

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That time for announcing a thankful heart
Admittedly, I’m luckier than I could know
I’m grateful for a cozy home to return to
She’s statuesque; putting on a show

A very fine housedress with cleavage peeking
I can tell they’re lonely, in need of my kisses
Alas, it’s not the time for anything more
She’s busy, my housewife, my missus

I take her in my arms with tenderness
This wasn’t the next task she had planned
But it’s rather chilly outside
How else shall I warm my cold hands

I’m Not A Joiner

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I’m not a joiner
I’m deliberately choosing not to join your group
Breaking free of these inconsistencies
Past sins & missteps on an endless loop

I inherently distrust any gathering of people
Seeing we’re doomed to live out the follies of youth
We lost our way & never came back
Now spurned forward by the allure of truth

Writing Sonnets For My Beloved

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Writing sonnets for my beloved
But I cannot speak in pentameters
The lines & sentiment lost on my tongue
Erasing the stray marks upon the parameters

Mother Nature is exhausted
Discovering it’s time to hibernate
Humble beauty of the landscape
Folding into herself unto the infinite

Hearing the last strains of Autumn
But the air is still hot
Clinging to a customary belief
While we hide behind a fig leaf
But we all know leaves fall and rot

Let’s Normalize Matrons Flashing

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Let’s normalize matrons flashing
I fancy the unexpected & a little brash
She gets my eyes swirling & I’m lightheaded
Fully transfixed; my heart’s going to crash

I can’t help but stare at her dancer’s legs
My eyes keep placing them in second position
The way they move without effort
My pulse quickens; a love in transition

To the glee of an unsuspecting audience
The mesmerized & enchanted crowd
Now forever willing to do her bidding
She winked at me & couldn’t be more proud

Those Ebina Slums Are More Nervous

Those Ebina slums are more nervous
Than a pair of skinned cats
I don’t remember you warning me
But you couldn’t have known that

In the end, these experiences
Won’t amount to all that much
They’ll dissipate with the wind
Gone with the ghosts & such

You may struggle with a rose
Striking hard against your bone
Sunshine guides your dreams
Days encompassing your unknown

*poem written circa 2008

*photo taken circa 2022

Ill Reputed Minstrel & Her Fancy Dolls

Ill reputed minstrel & her fancy dolls
Forever punished for my dated sin
A hushed wish for something more
Images of the whiteness of porcelain
Do not lead me through vacant doors
No need to become another mistake
Removed from that dreadful life
Sparing additional pain for her own sake
Dancing lightly in the darkness
Admiring her spinning gown
Incapable of resisting delicate charms
Would do anything to replace that frown

In Defense Of The Outcasts & Weirdos

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In defense of the outcasts & weirdos
Those strange fellows who demand to be free
Exposing thought & sincerity to open air
To live one’s own life & forever reject conformity

Counting oneself amongst the abnormal
Involuntarily immersed in thought & deed
The action of creating poetic existence
For some days, that might be all we need

Walking Down The Street On All Saints’ Day

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Walking down the street on All Saints’ Day
Victrolas on display at the corner store
A flirtatious greeting with the local beauty
She always smiles, but never asks for more

You’ve created another aura within her
Casting her as red-blooded in your pulp fantasy
A polite lady with those vicious high heels
Mental interludes without consent, it seems to me

Take your dreams & exit stage left
You tried to court & failed, life’s not fair
Let a true gentleman whisper elegant words
She’ll open up her passion, exposing her silky pair

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

Saddle Up To The Counter

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Saddle up to the counter
Anxiety requiring a shot or two
Feeling warmth of liquid bliss
Slowly beginning to feel like you

Tension of these recent events
But knowing he’s always on your side
Methodically flirting for good measure
You’re aglow; his fair-haired bride

Hand in hand to go dance in the rain
Never letting storms dampen your night
Electric kisses & a dress clinging as it drips
It’s perfectly transparent; albeit no longer virginal white

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 Caught You Outside In Your Slip

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I caught you outside in your slip
The gossamer wisps within my view
A ripe side of the ever lovely
I couldn’t help but stare at you

Running through a Summer rain
Racing to the steps of a Victorian porch
Draped in a thin dress of pale tulle
The heavy heart of a burning torch

Amid the seduction of incantations
I knew your illusions were clear
Transparent upon the fresh flesh
& I thought only my intentions were sheer

I always look where no one looks
Trying to see what no one is willing to see
Saturated; glory beyond Heaven’s bounty
I’m out here shooting for immortality

I’ve Been To The City

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I’ve been to the city
But I didn’t like what I saw
There’s no air to breathe
Such congestion of humanity
Infestation should be against the law

Authoritarians canvasing your timeline
Dourly grudging along in their jackboots
Manipulating digital ledgers & statements
Nothing worse than those savages in suits

No, I’ll stay here where Divinity is clear
The minor sophistications are plain to see
Occasionally sidestepping hillbilly nonsense
But at least my soul is still free

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)

A Dreamer Of Hope In This Jaded World

A dreamer of hope in this jaded world
The cutting edge of a disinherited brigade
Avant-garde though we’re quite tame
Collecting ideas, though dusty, will never fade

Manifest destiny is a crippling crutch
A mere novelty for a spoilt rich kid
Mankind doesn’t deserve such trumpery
& these militant spirits can never be hid

Be proactive in your revolutions
The rhetoric tied to the strings in their back
Politicians are ideologues with ripped seams
Promising anything to increase their stacks

Opinions are constitutionally protected lies
Our submissions will dictate the norm
Disguising etiquette with a 20 Pound note
Anti-conformity is another path to conform

*I wrote this in a pre-pandemic world.

Transactionally Stealing Poetry From Her Diary

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Transactionally stealing poetry from her diary
Thinking pretty thoughts, my lady crooner
Shedding our shared idealized past
Ravishingly disheveled from another nooner

These things are seldom spoken aloud
Angels sing out; no longer so distant
Breached actions distorting our thoughts
Heartbroken; leaving you feeling resistant

I’m out here worshipping my secular goddess
Looking for quiet now & avoiding unsolicited advice
Passion not always akin to pleasure
Focused to ensure my kisses are nice & precise

I Don’t Speak Of The Dark Times

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I don’t speak of the dark times
For I don’t know how to describe
Numb from the constant rows
Beating my head against the tide

All the while, I’m trying to keep in step
Attempts to parry everything exterior
Concurrent remedies do nothing
Resulting in the residue of the inferior

Intentions to escape these trappings
Quietly absconding along the coast
Ambitions to enliven another day
& thus a creation of a ghost

Not To Keep Returning The Subject To Myself

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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

Drinking From These Suburban Tropes

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Drinking from these suburban tropes
We’ve remained lost after so many tries
The suggestion that we might hope to cope
But the result is not ever ours to surmise

Your mixed metaphors aren’t so cute
When we’re still dizzied after midnight
Yet not late enough for ideas to take root
& all I can feel these days sound a bit trite

Gimme A Minute Till I Look Pretty

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Gimme a minute till I look pretty
I don’t want to go out there without my cologne
I can’t deal with the sketchy people
You know, they’ve hidden away all the pay phones
I don’t trust the Gov’t hiding behind rain coats
The shadows are weary with their demodulation
Open your windows to the rain – expect justice
I shall bare my raw breast in hopes of emotional rehabilitation

It’s A Sparse Paradise These Days

It’s a sparse paradise these days
Feeling another season coming on
Not supposed to feel like this
At least that’s the way we’ve been drawn

She’s still the poor pretty rich girl
Never could get off the same page
Repeat struggles to survive
Tripping on my lines; a vapid stage

Reality is an emotion detached from my soul
You never needed everyone to love you
Instilled confidence to merely exist
Forethought is a luxury that might just be true

Transcripts of the past’s failures
We’ve learned, but not out of society’s grip
False starts & then some
Rising, but we’re still not quite hip

I Can Still Make Mature Women Blush

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I can still make mature women blush
Knowing the proper placement of words
Using my tongue to enunciate firmly
The rhythm of recitement, she slowly purred

The fertile experience of rapturous joy
Pause a moment, so she won’t catch her death
Letting her pulse settle to reasonable levels
Returning to the living, joy in each & every breath

The bold blonde with big, bouncy curls
Much-maligned missionary souls
Falling in love was always my fatal flaw
Especially once I’ve relinquished control

Two Plus Two Does Not Equal Five

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Two plus two does not equal five
You’re subversive by remaining alive
By thinking independently, you’re disputin’
A rouge in the night like the fellow Rasputin

You don’t have to pick a side with these villains
Coming after the people with their fists clenched
Instead choose love, honesty & compassion
That will always be enough for a soul to be quenched

It’s Not Too Much

It’s not too much to ask for
Cold chilling to our bones
When we’re together forevermore

Wrap yourself tightly, I implore
Through love, we must atone
It’s not too much to ask for

Briskness recalls days of yore
Nostalgia to which we’re prone
When we’re together forevermore

Battered ships upon the same shore
Knowing we’re never alone
It’s not too much to ask for

Feeling the true price of this war
Pages of guilt written in stone
When we’re together forevermore

Tossed in the bottom drawer
Realities remaining unknown
It’s not too much to ask for
When we’re together forevermore

It Was A One-Eyed Kind Of Morn

It was a one-eyed kind of morn
With evening’s festivities going awry
I scrawled out all I could remember
Once a gentleman, turned drunken guy

Slight images of a lovely form
Olfactory sparks upon my brain
Sketching the party’s guest list
But no new faces could remain

Racking my skull for a proper memory
Writing down every & each detail
Compiling a list to rediscover
I’m trying to think, but it’s to no avail

A faceless gown with affectionate gloves
Somehow my mind is able to recall
Cognitive fragments begin to linger
Clouded out by last night’s alcohol

Scenes slowly begin to return
I believe we’re out on the dance floor
An embrace of smoldering desire
Yet I couldn’t figure out any more

Scraps of notes spread before me
No identity to place upon the truth
Scant reason to be shy in my search
Basking in honesty of my lapsed youth

Cobwebs have been sparsely lifted
Won’t think of her in the past tense
Her ghostly touch encourages me yet
We shall meet again, I firmly sense

To hold her with determined spirit
Seems fantastical at this sad rate
Yet she’s left fingerprints upon me
Remaining until I succumb to my fate

Evading Their Ongoing Tragedies

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Evading their ongoing tragedies
Forty summers spent down in the dirt
Withstanding the weight of apocalypse
Emerging; though slightly less overt


Blast furnace of the afternoon sun
Dali walking barefoot on Tampa’s shores
Pale riders within unabsorbed light
Embracing purity through perception’s doors


The paint of our secret love notes
But can only be read through the keyhole
Shying away from all public renditions
Her passionate words left imprinted on my soul

The Carcasses Of Inspiration

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The carcasses of inspiration
Wine glasses with Burgundy residue
Speaking to late nights & early mornings
Scribbles in the margin on the follow through
Feeling parched as I wake
Noticing your lipstick stains
Upon the rim of the glass
Reminding me of the dreams that remain
Bleary eyed, drinking the coffee grounds
Searching for a fate within the dregs
Fumbling over these typewriter keys
Lightheaded when I see your naked legs
Your smile is a distraction
But you pop a button & then one more
I’m at your complete mercy
Once the nightgown hits the floor

Image by TastyCinnamonn from Pixabay

 

I Need To Escape The City Structure

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I need to escape the city structure
Retreat to a cabin up in the woods
Resolving quiet bouts of sensory overload
No longer at peace in these neighborhoods

Trying to exist without the constant ruckus
I may be no more than a sheep in wolf’s clothing
But I know I need something a bit tamer
To quell these times of depreciation & self-loathing

Times get weird; we must remain in our morals
Eventually we must draw a line in the sand
& to misquote the philosopher Chris Rock
I’m not saying the Unabomber was right, but I understand

You Didn’t Sell Out, You Bought In

You didn’t sell out, you bought in
At least that’s what you regurgitate
But you, yourself, are a cog in the machine
Grinding out this state sponsored hate
You speak of crying in the streets
Heartbroken your flavor of evil didn’t win
But it’s a system of corruption throughout
With each career politician speaking the sin
Where did all our heroes & leaders go
Driven out as the bureaucracy multiplies
Buried the truth in all that paperwork
We’re doomed unless the people rise
Against these manufactured lies

I’m Working On A Deliberate Sound

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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