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
Emerging from the night of lost souls
A rough morning with make-up in your eyes
Playing with fire when you dressed like Hell
You believed the Devil when he whispered his lies
Another exhilarating night of sin extinguished
But your heart now belongs to the man of flames
You don’t remember how your dress got burnt
Or how your lovely chest was branded with his name
Image by Анастасия Гепп from Pixabay
Wash away my sins
Lightning striking us twice
Coming summer rain (soft & light)
That lovely woman – cold as ice
Yet I head for her still
Not one to be dissuaded
She’ll warm to my charms
When I leave her hair unbraided
I want to know the secrets
The ones you have buried deep within
I want you to whisper your love
Kiss me so long they’ll think it’s a sin
Running away from sunsets & goodbyes
Feeling the lead of stained windowpanes
These houses don’t hold strained memories
Washed away in the softening of Winter’s rain
I’m freely exposed in these dimmer days
Wrap me with the sound of rigorous hymns
I listen, but don’t fathom your parlance
I can’t keep up with your acronyms
Ill reputed minstrel & her fancy dolls
Forever punished for my dated sin
A hushed wish for something more
Images of the whiteness of porcelain
Do not lead me through vacant doors
No need to become another mistake
Removed from that dreadful life
Sparing additional pain for her own sake
Dancing lightly in the darkness
Admiring her spinning gown
Incapable of resisting delicate charms
Would do anything to replace that frown
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
I have a secret
Scribbling in the margins
The poetry of opera halls
Burning drinks of gargled sin
A letter to the editor
Words chosen for us tonight
The opinions of a fool
With only a pretty girl left to recite
Dowager Queen dressed like a nun
Looking for courtesies in murky nights
Whispering to me “this is gonna be fun”
Shadows dance in tranquil candlelight
I’m all in as she shucks her brassiere
Mixing metaphors with her gin
Titillated whenever she comes near
Pulling lace away from her original sin
You didn’t sell out, you bought in
At least that’s what you regurgitate
But you, yourself, are a cog in the machine
Grinding out this state sponsored hate
You speak of crying in the streets
Heartbroken your flavor of evil didn’t win
But it’s a system of corruption throughout
With each career politician speaking the sin
Where did all our heroes & leaders go
Driven out as the bureaucracy multiplies
Buried the truth in all that paperwork
We’re doomed unless the people rise
Against these manufactured lies
Stepping out into the light
My eyes can’t adjust to the sunshine
Night left me with nary a sleep
Stumblin’ home to all that’s still mine
Life comes at you hard & fast on the inside
Wondering when the pitches stopped comin’ in underhand
Won’t wallow in misery nor memory of elsewhere’s joy
These speeches fail to convey truth I can’t understand
Where do we go to return to the proper roads
Did I miss the signal for the game to truly begin
I’m old these days; confused by angles & trajectories
Yet I can still & once again wipe myself clear of my sin
