You Don’t See Me

Photo by Paweu0142 L. on Pexels.com

You don’t see me when you look my way
Like a ghost – I just don’t seem to appear
Faded into the background of life
Unable to compete with all you hold dear

My kind smile & open arms aren’t a reality
Merely static in your fashion-conscious day
I’m over here trying to catch your eye
Yet my shadow is not even in your way

What more can I do to attract you

The uncool of America
Not enough flash
Eagerly & quietly industrious
But we’re still short on cash

You’re out here ridin’ high on your horse
I’m down here with my heart broken
You’re clearly oblivious to my existence
I wonder if you’ll ever be woken

Unlocking Inspiration In The Night

Unlocking inspiration in the night
Emerging from the shadows & dark places
Rising from a migrant slumber
New life without any of the fragile traces


A travesty banished to the past
Along with all heartache & fear
Endless scribbles upon discarded paper
The truth within ink stains & pencil smears

Your Idols Weren’t Half The Men

Photo by Mike on Pexels.com

Your idols weren’t half the men
They thought they were half a bottle in
Cowardly hiding behind unjust traditions
Sinning while gulping juniper medicinal gin

Their women languishing in the shadows
Cast off from any chance to reach the light
Yet those damsels can see through the dark
The perfect heroine to save an errant knight

Misconstrued notions of dynamic parity
Swabbing the deck with your fallen idol
Ink smudges & literary drudges
Methinks – their mothers should’ve used spermicidal

Empty Wine Bottles Clink; Devoid Of All Inspiration

Photo by Anastasia Shuraeva on Pexels.com

Empty wine bottles clink; devoid of all inspiration
But that’s not the way you remembered they bled
Choosing the perfect wording for posterity
A trembling shadow of what the poets once said

We once set out to create a fresh universe
But that’s not the way I can any longer think
Falling in love with strange, beautiful women
The source & reason for all the dedicated ink

Our souls entwined in deliberate communion
But that’s not the way that I came to be lost
Specific writings to engrave our cosmic lust
Forever entombed within this highland frost

Sheets & Reams Of The Nonsensical

Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Pexels.com

Sheets & reams of the nonsensical
Literary blood lost in the shadow of ink
The lifeforce of a simmering soul
Marginal hearts writing love against the kitchen sink
Leaving behind the caricature of an artist
Contributions to society felt in these empty sheets
Fingersmudges marking pages not so white
Starkly exposed with revolutionary words in the streets
Traces of hereditary ideals eroding away
Igniting pages shall still be a stilted sin
Yet we rise again from our desert floor
Eternally grateful our finite letters aren’t porcelain

Trying To Overcome An Existential Crisis

Photo by JACK REDGATE on Pexels.com

Trying to overcome an existential crisis
Harking back to those foundational years
Emerging out of my own wounded shadow
Striving headlong into those ancient fears
Transitionally limping along these days
But my injuries aren’t those to be seen
Nor the stretch marks upon my soul
Yearning for the notion of becoming clean
Throughout it all, forever fond of the Blonde
Woman, hold me close to your breast
Tell me this life is going to be all right
That together, entangled; we’ll always be blessed

Gripping Lightly To The Banister

Gripping lightly to the banister
Our lives slipping away into the ether’s shadow
Gracefully stepping down each marble step
Never succumbing to their expectations of the afterglow
Holding your head up high in dignity
Wear the fancy clothes; wear your favorite scent
Knowing they’ll despise your happiness anyway
Remaining this awesome was never an accident