A fresh morning in a shabby hotel
Sunshine pouring through open drapes
Heavy, yet obviously threadbare
Blinded; only seeing abstract shapes
Sitting on the edge with a warm mug
Need to move, but my legs won’t go
A few more moments in this peace
Hell begins once I’ve finished this cup of joe
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 the winds of the hurricane
Knowing we’re going to lose power
Stacking the ends of loose leaf paper
Don’t know the time/ don’t know the hour
Pouring a drink, settling in this night
Toast the storm, this one’s going to be a fighter
But when all is said & done
Imagination is how I fuel my typewriter
Finding the energy to jump up
To start the day in the sunshine
Collecting smiles from fresh faces
& always returning to the love that’s mine
Pouring another coffee to revive my soul
The blacker the better; deeper than the sea
Knowing secrets which youth will always deny
That happiness is real & it’s forever free
Nonsense & miscalculations they always spew
For they see glitter & everything they never tried
But experience will tell you simple is better
& anything worth fighting for is kept on the inside
Image by Alexander Belyaev from Pixabay
Disturbed themes & distant thrombosis
A hitch in your giddy-up when it’s time for tea
Transcendental visitations
From dreams may come answers to our makeshift reality
Pouring over the brackish tomes with devotion
Gentlemen & ladies of letters; luminaries of thought
But truth doesn’t cure our limited capacities
Bare harbingers of the illiterations we’ve wrought
We’ve taken ill in our posh-marked libraries
Leaving fingerprints on memories we loved the most
We maunder through our raging debates
Knowing full well they’re all books about ghosts
Darkness creeps in on our musty resolve
Syntax prescribed with an utmost surgical query
Descending by the light of our candelabra
If we survive, we’ll be counted amidst the weary
Surviving by the bright light of day
Pouring coffee directly into my weary eyes
Can’t sleep at night since I must remain alert
Anxious; trying to hide my soul’s invisible cries
Gathering my wits to merely successfully exist
Waiting for the other shoe to drop & Hell to begin
Tired of cowering away in forgotten silence
Appearing strong since no one sees the enemy within
These are dreary days
With swamp fog descending upon us
I’m not one to shift blame
Knowing the weight of a day’s jaundice
Another coffee is not going to save us
Nor cause the inevitable doom
So let us pour a cup of darkness
In defiance of such obvious gloom
Fatigue hitting my bleary eyes
Another night upon the flight deck
Needing a shower & my rack
A nation’s burden around my neck
Chocks & chains in the pouring rain
Undeterred from the mission at hand
Endless hours like every sailor before
So few remaining will ever understand
Lounging early in the morning
She wore an animal print I couldn’t recall
I poured another cup to erase the cobwebs
A chilly morning; slipping past Fall
She was sleek & beautiful, a deadly shade
Overly dramatic in the best possible sense
Passion in abundance for my sole benefit
Edging to a climax at our soul’s expense
We’ve survived another night
I wake to pinks, purples & blues
The Almighty with a new creation
When She draped the sky in royal hues
Stretching, creaking & yawning
With chaos falling all around me
Rising slowly before dust settles
It’s time to pour myself fresh coffee
Digital Me
Finally found a way to be unplugged
The weight of society
Instead we just shrugged
Allowing that energy to drain
The emotion poured in the blog
A little rusty these days
Always happier when I run in analog
Typing, hacking, thinking – Smokin’ hot
Typing your best to empty all thought
Pouring your soul into force upon the keys
Your woman walks past with a dress above the knees
Now you can’t think or type or stammer straight
The hell with with deadlines – this one’s gonna be late
You pray to the spirits of procastrination or whatever you think of
Burn this project right now, sacrifice it in the name of love
A fine suited man with terrible inklings
Hands on her shoulders; easy to confide
Pouring drinks & erasing her sadness
Falling by the wayside with time & tide
Beauty is merely a natural configuration
Each button gone, an uncontrollable urge
His intentions told with a silent tongue
Embraced & now they lovingly merge
Pouring a tall wine in the fine crystal
The fancy stuff from our Wedding day
Leaving behind clothing as we speak
Your look disregards anything I have to say
My eyes are up here, my beautiful Bride
Please focus on my charm & wit
I can tell you only desire one thing
But first lady, you’re going to have to submit
I poured you copious amounts of wine
Frank was singing ‘The Lady Is A Tramp’
We danced until you went home on the train
Your dreams ended up being quite damp
Caught checking out her perks
Hey Ballerina – tell me a bawdy tale
With tawdry notes from last night
I’ll pour a drink as you slowly regale
Draping my jacket over the chair
You slip off those tantalizing heels
Preparing for the evening’s agenda
Knowing its my heart you’re about to steal
Those words come to me in those coffee dreams
A spontaneous marvel of literary delight
There’s a difference between manufactured beauty
& a real beauty, founded by nature’s authentic right
But I can’t explain the nuances with the definition
I’m not one to judge such subjective whims
Focusing on my own qualms & dangling thoughts
Let us sit, pour another cup, let’s solve these problems
I’m not bothered by such trifling issues as rules
Let them worry about my intents & being misconstrued
I let my chosen pages explain all I’m willing to
I’m more concerned if that pot has finished it’s brew
Green mermaid lady
I’m still in love with you
Always been good to me
My affections are overdue
Dimly lit stages for hire
Writing out these feelings
Jittered & confused tonight
Staggered & now kneeling
Inspiration to keep on going
Confidence in my finer words
Blocked out memories past
Forgetting what was heard
Know where you want to be
So I’ve come back to you
Capitalism be damned!
Pour me something new
Image by marvette critney from Pixabay
Captain Q 