I’m not an artist, just a guy with a pen
Upon a lonely night, I started to write
I jotted down some rhymes for me
Teen angst channeled into the light
I’ve never looked back to think
I just keep writing over the decades
I don’t edit my feelings nor judge you
Purely an attempt for the soul not to fade
I’m pounding these keys
Trying to create a landmark
Something to last through time
A rhyme to set off a sudden spark
I’m vain in ways I won’t admit
A schedule of words upon the page
Formulas/equations for me to disconnect
Memories for after I’ve withered into age
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?
Suburban arcades & record stores
Love notes left jammed in the teletype
Ancient technologies lost to whims of time
Sacrilege of consuming before it’s ripe
Littered by dreams of public-school poets
Falling to the feminine side of healing
Whose obedience to authority lingers
But only the lonely are rhymin’ & stealin’
Our literary antihero catching the cliff notes
A repressed childhood is still better by half
Trying to make up for that deleted time
But you can’t get far by writing on decaf
Standing with arms braced to the wind
Needing antiquity to know how we perform
Rolling empty dice against our loaded fates
Summer on the coast ensures the storm
Captain Q 