You can keep your digital playgrounds
I care not for a Kindle nor a Nook
There’s no time for your technology
At the end of the day, just give me a book
The old fashioned kind, maybe a paperback
Anything without a power source
I don’t need your highbrow radiation
I’ll stick with tangible pages of course
I may hail from generations past
Perhaps I’m boorish, perhaps I’m a lout
But I’m pretty damn basic when the day is done
I’ll still have my pages when the lights go out
Thinking of all those cowboy stories
Singing songs under a tree so shady
Virtuous heroes we can believe in
A life that attracts the prettiest lady
I have a secret
Scribbling in the margins
The poetry of opera halls
Burning drinks of gargled sin
A letter to the editor
Words chosen for us tonight
The opinions of a fool
With only a pretty girl left to recite
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
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
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
Taking me back
California nights long ago
Palm lined beaches
The prettiest I know
Youthful charm & bravado
Flirting down by the sea
I’m taken back these days
By the sounds of Social D
Not much I could do
She was out of my league
Pretty sure she didn’t know
My soul filled with intrigue
Flashing my humble smile
Women don’t fall in love with wit
Transitioning my pride
In this world, I appear wholly unfit
This is life. This is reality.
When the pretty words drip away
When the party’s over
You’ve still got to wake & face the day
Digital lovers lavish heaps of praise
Complimenting you on your magnificent blog
While you neglect the physical world
Always remember that pain & loneliness are analog
The beat making my Diesels sweat
This is beyond my usual scene
Usually I can’t dance without regret
Needing a lot more alcohol & caffeine
Glow sticks & the whole lot to lampoon
I can’t live life with digitized crap
Moving my body like an analog buffoon
I need to find a pretty lady to sit upon my lap
I spy one in my dizzied & frazzled state
I could definitely make her my new habit
She’s smiling at my attempt to communicate
My God, I see curves like Jessica Rabbit
I shake my head allowing reality to seep
Good fortune has shined down in this nightlife culture
I straighten my clothes; thinking ‘don’t be a creep’
& I flash the Cheshire grin of a hungry vulture
Perfection laid out on satin sheets
Beauty dripping away piece by piece
Every dream slipped right through
Life & loss masked by laughing creases
He said you were everything he desired
Burning deep in his soul, but you refused
Moving too fast to stop & notice him
Yet you cry foul, saying you were abused
The sun rises no matter who is pained
Recall broken hearts when you’re the cause
Plump out your pretty pink lips
In the quiet of night, please retract your claws
Calm thyself, you know your own heart
Time to realize you’re the fatal flaw
I’m not anywhere near perfect
Contrary to your fictitious notions
Examining me through a skewed lens
Though I’ve been cleansed by the ocean
I’m not what you think you want
Flawed in all the wrong places
Underlining fragility & a fractured soul
But you’re still focused on the pretty faces
I can’t explain all the improper deviations
I’m not what you’ve wished you might discover
You’ve transcribed me into a possibility
But I’m already tethered to my perpetual lover
Don’t sacrifice your dreams
For what probably won’t ever be
Hold tight to your illusions
For only then can life set you free
I don’t have pretty eyes to attract
Nor a beautiful body to distract
A middle aged, middle class white dude
with no street cred
With charm & gentlemanly conduct
instead
I’ll have to choose the proper words
To prevent from being misheard
Where did our youthful exuberance go
Closed off from a litany of feelings of truth
But I don’t want to be like them
Not worried about a bent halo or tarnished tiara
Angst of foregone conclusions
I want something of substance
Never tamed by society’s expectations
A slow, smoldering strangeness
Embracing the stature of being a little weird
Impervious to judgements of being bland
For through and through, I can only be me
Never standing for someone else’s brand
I hope to always be wild enough to be free
It’s December, but it’s warm
Driving faster, turning up the stereo
Eying you all pretty & classy
Hop with me & here we go
Slide right in & kiss me sweet
Be gentle girl, gotta maintain the road
It gets curvy around these parts
& you’re about to make my mind explode
I see your pretty smile
Discovering it’s innocence disguised
This walk marked by confidence
Always keeping me surprised
A mischievous look upon your face
Nervous energy I can feel
Your skirt slightly flares
My lips part before you even kneel
My interest has already piqued
Amazed as you love me still faster
Truly a breathtaking moment
As you call me your lover & master
Dancing in her pretty lil’ dress
I lifted her high in the air
That’s when I learned
She didn’t have on any underwear
Paddling around the remotest parts
Looking for hope where there’s no merriment
Our souls evaporating in the open air
Put through this vise of a social experiment
Living out here minus the love & support
There’s only so much a man can endure
Mother Nature whirling up the darkest storms
Blowing away my dreams I’m terribly sure
Hey, hey, hey, pretty mama
Please send me some news
It’s lonesome out here
I’ve got the middle of the ocean blues
Thankful for a little spit of dry land
Feeling a bit wobbly & out of sorts
Having a nice cold one under a palm
Time to recharge my batteries in this port
Soon enough, we’ll be back floating
Feeling the Earth’s rotation upon this burn
Long days of sweat & toiling work
Wearing my body out before I return
Hey, hey, hey, pretty mama
Please send me some news
It’s lonesome out here
I’ve got the middle of the ocean blues
The poetess vixen
Trying to seduce my intellect
Whispering those sweet thoughts
Paused by my pen; time to reflect
But I’m not one to cave to pressure
Her pretty eyes leading me to temptation
I can appreciate & smile back
Without any need for erotic retaliation
Red lipstick & a tight ponytail
The pretty piano player; a punk rockette
The domestic goddess with a need to be clean
Living on the edge of the cosmopolitain set
Hoarding her guilty pleasures fiercely
The moral ambiguity is a stubborn crutch
Ignoring nature’s perfectly placed laws
But she’ll only accept the light’s soft touch
Wearing an evening gown at her elegant leisure
Within her mind, no better way to take a selfie
She’s blunt with her standards & expectations
But lucky for us all, my poems are gluten free
Image by Kelsey Vere from Pixabay
These broken & delayed dreams
Electric toothbrushes that constantly hum
A pocketful of change
& girls with eyes so pretty it makes me dumb
I’m not one to make a great scene
Yet I’m your average middle-aged guy
Not counted among the mundane
I couldn’t be normal, even if I tried
So we’re all stuck in this spinning limbo
A world with mixed up priorities & hate
I’m confused by all this wasted time
One of these days the hourglass will cease to rotate
So, I’m probably going to be late for work
For my beautiful woman resides in this bed
I could be responsible & get there on time
But I’m always going to choose to love instead
Image by Claudio_Scott from Pixabay
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
A recovering misogynist
A self-proclaimed one
Terribly stupid in my youth
Thought it was kinda fun
Then I fell for a pretty girl
& sired 3 daughters to boot
Internal character challenged
Forever altered to my roots
Quietly, the most awkward person I know
Never sure how to handle a situation
Constantly judging myself & my actions
Forcing myself deeper into this alienation
Watching all the pretty people succeed
Just trying to survive, I’m happy I’m still here
No one wants to discuss the darkness within
But here I am, attempting to confront my fears
I feel like a bull in a China shop
I feel ugly next to you swans
Not wanting to detract from you
I wander off into the rising dawn
I try to find a genuine smile
I feel like I’m pressing my luck
I’m not meant to be amongst beauty
For I’m not pretty; I’m just a duck
Seeing all the pretty people
Seeing them encased in glass
All their assets on display
Trimmed in polished brass
Prancing & strutting proudly
Unaware of their obligation
Souls such as these
Come with a re-appropriation
Trade off for their gifts
Liabilities detrimental & hyper
Left in an excited state when
It comes time to pay the piper
I don’t want to look too good
Someone might try to steal me away
Flashing all of their charms
Trying to make me sway
But that’s not who I am
Don’t worry you’re pretty head
I’ll be home soon enough
Resting quietly in your bed
Seeing all the pretty people
Seeing them encased in glass
All their assets on display
Trimmed in polished brass
Prancing & strutting proudly
Unaware of their obligation
Souls such as these
Come with a re-appropriation
Trade off for their gifts
Liabilities detrimental & hyper
Left in an excited state when
It comes time to pay the piper
It’s not a crime to be pretty
Wearing rented dresses, searching for a breadwinner
Socialites & other plastic people
No redeeming qualities, but she wants to be thinner
Her vagina will accept almost anything
Whether it be dollars, pounds, marks or kroner
A consummate professional at all times
She expects to be well paid for every geriatric boner
You don’t look gift whores in the mouth
Searching for a sugar daddy, anyone will do
Sitting in the bullpen, hoping to get promoted
Waiting to pluck her next victim, how many already gone through
That swath leaving nothing to the imagination
Offended when the whispers mention a gold digger
Everyone can spy those silicone scars
Next time she’ll go a couple of cups bigger
Sucking more than the marrow out of life
She’s trading her youth for money & security
But once tarnished, innocence forever besmirched
Time is constantly magnifying all your impurities
There are certain priorities in this life
A father must keep his daughters off the pole
But something much less discussed nowadays
What do you do once she grew without a soul
This scene is littered with heinous & fickle creatures
Cloaked, it slowly begins to scandalize & appall
Men with large billfolds & absolutely no shame
It’s the current failure of society & they call it Skyfall
*sorry, feeling quite caustic today
Morning departures
A silent plane overhead
Black coffee warming
But I’d rather be in bed
Waking too early
Quiet village in my eyes
An empty mug
But it’s a pretty sunrise
You have all your beautiful decorations
Your Louis bag & Burberry coat
Flaunting everything which couldn’t be
Knowing how to get my bloody throat
You’ll find your adornments gone someday
They’ll suddenly be missing as you wake
Feeling distraught with nothing left
You’ll be lonely without any Real Estate
You’ll have no glamour & no identity
Find a need to fold back within yourself
No one will care, so no reason to hide
You’ll no longer be living on the top shelf
Downcast eyes revealing all exposed lies
Once the object of unparalleled lust
Age without refinement turns ugly
Life’s not so pretty, fallen from the upper crust
“Crying is for plain women. Pretty women go shopping.”
― Oscar Wilde
“Crying is for plain women. Pretty women go shopping.”
― Oscar Wilde
Captain Q 