Sheep In Wolves’ Clothing

statue-2836945_1920.jpg

Sheep in wolves’ clothing
Alone in the natural spirals
A delicate peace teetering
In a time when hate’s gone viral

A profound wilderness
With the Shepherd long forsaken
Truth & reason at risk
With Faith’s foundations shaken

Does compassion still exist
Love faltering/dreams now monochrome
The Devil removing his mask
Once he’s comfortably at home

Intense.

Photo by Vlada Karpovich on Pexels.com

Intense.
Uncontrollably shake your foot
Another morning wide awake
Experience as black as soot

We can only be who we are
No sense living in the past tense
These are the ramifications
Blinded to your own suspense

I know who we once were
Though they are now gone
Not victim to anything
Excuses made you the pawn

Shed these moments of hate
Bringing you down another level
Dreams of agony by default
Embraced, but slightly disheveled

Regroup at the breakfast table
Another chance to forever adjust
Calming thoughts to carry through
After all, we’re merely cosmic dust

The Beat Making My Diesels Sweat

Photo by YURI MANEI on Pexels.com

The beat making my Diesels sweat
This is beyond my usual scene
Usually I can’t dance without regret
Needing a lot more alcohol & caffeine

Glow sticks & the whole lot to lampoon
I can’t live life with digitized crap
Moving my body like an analog buffoon
I need to find a pretty lady to sit upon my lap

I spy one in my dizzied & frazzled state
I could definitely make her my new habit
She’s smiling at my attempt to communicate
My God, I see curves like Jessica Rabbit

I shake my head allowing reality to seep
Good fortune has shined down in this nightlife culture
I straighten my clothes; thinking ‘don’t be a creep’
& I flash the Cheshire grin of a hungry vulture

Oh, Where Does Our Journey End

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

Oh, where does our journey end
Or begin, as it so often might seem
Futile attempts to erase the past
The unknown details of our dreams

The open road panders to a false escape
The mere opportunity to rewrite a sojourn
Jesus perambulating with Uncle Walt
Debating the path; perchance to learn

Shaky prospects in apportioned time
Manifest destiny teases Ginsburg & Kerouac
Further roads leading to ornate wisdom
& we keep it concealed out in the back

Thoreau mocking society with his solitude
Knowing alone is the greatest we could ever be
Thoughts come to us in gentle waves
That perhaps our visions should become the sea

A reinterpretation of westward expansion
Route 66 cross-contaminating Highway 61
All roads have never led us home
Emily tempting Death with her life left undone

The growing wisdom of our consumed space
Emerson’s penning pre-revolutionary blues
Introducing our souls to unrefined grace
The Good Lord providing Her unfiltered muse

Feeble humanity; lost across the tracks
Original sin that we’ve taken on the chin
Sifting thought; we might be welcomed again
But knock off the Devil’s dust before you come in

My Hands Shake

Photo by Archie Binamira on Pexels.com

My hands shake
As I raise an overfull cup of coffee
Perhaps already had enough
But I’ll continue to be me

These roads, waterways & paths
The most beautiful moments I’ve come across
I love you, but I sometimes I have needs
Today I’m going to purposely get lost

The Government Wants To Lock Me Up

hiker-918473_1920

The government wants to lock me up
For I don’t fit into their diabolic plan
Turning society into robotic morons
I just can’t continue to work for The Man

Trying to sell us artificial stimulants
Fickle airwaves that their bully pulpit bought
Falsified histories & professional victims
The system wipes us away without any thought

Pharmaceutical conglomerates tell us
Conscience is a personality disorder we can’t shake
Turning our daughters into Stepford Wives
Stealing our minds – hoping we’ll never wake

Corporations in league with the dolt on the throne
Continuously embarrassing the whole of humankind
Whose agenda has a limited number of characters
How the hell is this the best choice we could find

But I won’t succumb to any of their devices
I’ll take my liberty and the happiness I’ve pursued
Rejecting the crooks & ignoring their feigned power
Won’t find me in Nurse Rachet’s line; docile & queued

I can’t live a life that’s so blatantly false & empty
My soul is no longer pristine, but I’m an honest guy
I’m taking to the wilderness; leaving the State behind
I’m trading their promises for a more natural high

Maybe The Morning

Maybe the morning
Doesn’t; it just doesn’t have to be
You rise a little softer on that day
Emerging from a cocoon for me to see
Winter blankets fall away like nebulae
Taller than is expected from a Belle
Not so confident at first light
The arching sun; the pillory of hell
Stretching in my threadbare shirt
A shake of your hips
When first the brew hits your lips
But I want to watch
As you take another vainglorious sip

Wading Through Seawater In Your Dress

Wading through seawater in your dress
Clinging to your delicious curves
Exposing the universe to me
Standing at attention; all my nerves

You’re the anomaly of this world
Virtue & flexibility of our seams
Wrap your legs around my mind
Allow me the most sensuous dreams

Never to rejoin this delinquent society
Let me lead you with hands on your hips
To paradise removed from their hate
With nothing but flirtation on your lips

Gimme sass with a shake of that ass
Raising toasts to love in a crystal chalice
Our passion overflows conventional wisdom
Since I’m directed by the sapience of my phallus

I promise to hold you close all our days
& to occasionally provide your kind of cuddle
But I’ll always do that thing you like so well
The one that never fails to leave you in a puddle

Blue Skies Are Returning

Photo by Rachel Claire on Pexels.com

Blue skies are returning
We’re running headlong into Spring
Shake out all these Winter cobwebs
Let the sunshine wake my soul to sing

The flowers are returning to the earth
Seasons change and its turning warm
Let’s smile as we head outside
Time to stretch out your glorious form

Your dress looks lovely upon your skin
Alas, its time to remove some of these clothes
Let them fall away with Wintertime sadness
A blessing of rising mercury, Heaven knows

My thoughts are strikingly inappropriate
I suggest we blame it on this stifling heatwave
We’re in need of getting into the fresh air
To be free and once again unabashedly misbehave

Frayed Cuff On Antique Khaki

Photo by Athena on Pexels.com

Frayed cuff on antique khaki
Knowing thy state of dress
I wasn’t as dapper as she was used to
Hoping she wouldn’t think any less

He wasn’t any better than a prig
Her dance card drawing sideways looks
Quietly, she enjoyed my wicked tongue
& the way we shared our crooked books

Shaking the dust off our neglected spines
Certain steps lead to an awkward courtship
But faith in the power of pristine passion
That’s when I met her puckered cherry lips