My whole life on scraps of paper
My soul jotted down on the page
Plot lines between scribbles
Character development as we age
Everything that I am, right here
Pushing to further keep my mind trained
My heart’s secret smudged
Within these lines my identity is contained
Drinking black coffee out of Delta cups
The cheap seats listening to Empire Burlesque
Mixed metaphors crawling in the night
Still pondering why a raven is like a writing desk
Dislodged tea parties & cries of Nevermore
The world swiftly swirling all around me
Reducing myself into my words
Hiding now within punctuation & necessity
Unsure of our place in time
Triangulations are stretch marks on the soul
Society wants me to be all shiny
But more often than not, I’m tired & dull
Where do we find our inspirations
The formulations upon our existence
Personalities discarded to the rubbish pile
Pushing us further away within time & distance
Seeking a spiritual remedy
For my soul isn’t quite whole
Burnt out & emotionally drained
Tea cup’s empty & I’m no longer in control
Midcentury motif & I’m peeling paint
Shrinking violets & closing in walls
Pushing back against our growing pains
Energy to create, but my life remains a free fall
The grand rubbish
That we display here
Our soul’s bleeding
Harking back to fear
But we push ahead
& slowly expose
Our personal thoughts
Fighting the reality of those
Image by Khusen Rustamov from Pixabay

She said I was, “trying to conjure the ghost of Bukowski”
I told her there was better writers to admire
I’m not in college anymore
Drinking & degrading women won’t light my fire
I’m looking for inspiration to ignite my soul
A need to be revolutionized from the daily grind
Normalcy & the mundane will kill my spirit
I’m pushing forward to nurture & excite this weary mind
So you think you want to be wild
But you’ve never left the city gates
Living within such structure
Organizing a lush, manicured fate
Pushing forth the semblance of influence
Yet, outwardly needing to create a scene
Dreaming of an adventurous existence
& what breaking free could possibly mean
Pushing away the storms
Embracing hope of the day
Devouring of beloved forms
To keep our fears at bay
Morning has a profound notion
To remain huddled in bed
Perpetual passionate motions
Sustained until we’re both dead
Image by Daniel Nebreda from Pixabay
I don’t use umbrellas, dear
I’d rather dance in the rain
Let it cascade gently over
Cleansing us of lingering pain
Let me take you in my arms
Into your dreams – my words will push
Looking deep into my eyes
As I squeeze your tush
I lean in close
Brushing your hair over an ear
Whispering how I want you
To me, it’s startlingly clear
You blush & push me away
But I remain firmly by your side
For I am happiest here
My stunning, beautiful bride
I’ve been thinking about you
Draped in straps & buckles that push
Silks, lace & any cloth at all
Stretching thin across your tush
The day has been long & tiring
& your love is exactly what I need
Let my eyes devour every curve
No promise to be gentle in my greed
I fell out of Jerry’s beard
That trip was critical & weird
Pushin’ the limit in this life
Don’t confuse me with strife
Keep your learned looks
I’ll steal a trove of books
Answers come when they please
Send me back to sail the seas
I’ll dry off at the Westward Ho!
For it is still all who you know
Low evenings persistently intrude
Fancy parties & sensitive souls
Facades draped in lush decor
Strong mixed spirits don’t leave you full
Trashy nights with unseen acquaintances
Low cut blouses & nylon dreams in heels
Witnessing dancers locked in solitude
Push away the day
We don’t need another slow reveal
Captain Q 