You’re a questionable soul Lying in the Captain’s brig After drinking his scotch & wearing his wife’s wig Definitely conduct unbecoming Her voice sounding the alarm The man knows your name now Surely you’ll swing from the yardarm
Don’t look her in the eye For it might tip your move Just a simple guy With nothing to prove She wants nothing from you & your humble ways Society envies her Stack that against the strays Don’t show her any interest & she’ll question her worth Twisting this back on you Like you’re the last man on earth Keep to yourself Don’t be any more than polite She’ll come calling With a need for you to quench her plight
The world can only hold so many poets
Woefully claiming Bukowski as their inspiration
Worshiping a habitual womanizer & drunk
Answering questions with little to no imagination
I’m doing my best to fill up the lines & empty spaces
With these ink splotches spreading upon the page
Distinct notions of what I believe to be right
But I’m only displaying the curmudgeon side of my age
Shove off from those heroes & clip art stick figures
We need fresh voices with an authentic feel
No more grave-robbing stale words & artifacts
We need to release the future & embrace what’s real
Asking questions when you know it’s not the time Answers come, God willing, once we’re free Released from the expectation of perfection Quiet responses when you allow your soul to just be
For whom the Bell Jar tolls Chasing demons down the dark hall Scratching an itch until it bleeds Beyond a fantasy that wasn’t there at all
Never letting the imposter take hold Growing larger in our own impression Sizing up unquestioned confidence Surviving in spite of a soul’s transgression