Yardarms swing with the coming storm
The moored ships rock on the rising waves
Only those tied loose will withstand the blow
Sailors don’t have tombstones to adorn a grave
VI. Yardarms Swing With The Coming Storm
rock
I’m Rockin’ This Dad Bod
I’m rockin’ this dad bod
& making it look good
Unapologetically localized
Home in Suburban neighborhoods
I’m not trying to distract
Any of the ladies living nearby
I’m just trying to live my life
I’m just your normal, boring guy
I’m prematurely grumpy
A hermit; writing down in the dungeon
Devastatingly handsome, locked away
Keep out! – here be a curmudgeon
I Can’t Swim That Far
I can’t swim that far
No use for a sailor like me
Floating with the jetsam
Without the pomp or jubilee
This grey cell rocking
On each & every wave
At the whim of nature
I pray for Jesus to save
A daily grind in hell
No time for witty quips
This a mere life raft
For the Devil’s Flagship
Life Rocks Us Silently
Life rocks us silently
Rising & falling with the boat
Visions held most dear
Within these stories I wrote
Removed my choice of reality
But here I’ll take my stand
Firm between the swells
With gentle reminders of Neverland
Sitting Out On The Porch Swing
Sitting out on the porch swing
Skirt spread flat over rocking legs
Exhausted from the daily routine
Tired of sharing life with the dregs
Closing weary eyes to dream again
Imagining a reassuring, masculine form
Knowing this could finally be different
This could be comfort in the coming storm
This Is It
This is it
The end of where I care
You won’t make me cower
I won’t return there
I’m going to dance out loud
I’m going to rock that kazoo
You can’t make me regret
I’ll shake my tush like Baloo
Another Day Of Cold Coffee & Inspirational Songs
Another day of cold coffee & inspirational songs
I’m trying to survive with all my might
I’m not looking to be acceptable
Merely wishing to cherish what’s in my sight
Ink smudges quietly upon my palms
Unsure of my words, failing with adequate prose
Years fall into decades, but still
I’m flailing; conjuring an incomplete rose
The muse sits rocking, mocking
She struts out of reach of what I believe
Taunting me to sell my soul in angst
So I cover my typewriter in a sheet of Celtic weave
Tie Me Up With Your Panties
Tie me up with your panties
My penis filled with retro arena glamour rock
Remember when your mom caught me
Janking it into your sock?
*this is an older poem I found. I’m not particularly proud of it, but it makes me laugh. I hope you do as well. 😉
Jingle Bell Rock
Captain Q 