Sliced limes from a rusty-handled dagger
Placing erratic value on worn objects
Mundane property holders for our words
Soaking quietly into the meaning of the text
The sun still feels warm even at this hour
Tangible heaviness keeps the mind sane
We survived; regardless your thoughts on America
Tomorrow we return to fight, so others may remain
A naked woman upon the figurehead
Standing proud in the breeze
Calling to the Sirens & wenches
Knowing the truth of these seas
Her beauty remaining firm & intact
The ship around her orange with rust
The sailors with splinters in their palms
For she has a wooden bust
Digital Me
Finally found a way to be unplugged
The weight of society
Instead we just shrugged
Allowing that energy to drain
The emotion poured in the blog
A little rusty these days
Always happier when I run in analog
The waves don’t mean so much
Floating empty; upon this rusty ride
Sunset to sunrise & I’m all alone
At the mercy of the wayward tide
Daylight creaking up over the Atlantic
First light’s rays struggling over the sea
My bones seem to have a bit of rust
Better lubricate with some more coffee
Dancing upon the shores of the St. John’s
We don’t need carpets; red or otherwise
We only need our bare skin to touch
Ending with me whispering between your thighs
Captain Q 