I Can’t Sleep When my Mind Rattles

I can’t sleep when my mind rattles
Possibility of losing the dream stirs me awake
I need to cherish all we have
Though my poor soul needs a break

Lady, I love you more than words
Prove to me this isn’t a nightmare
That all we have is real & secure
Rouse me from fear; smack my derrière

Middle Of the Ocean Blues

Paddling around the remotest parts
Looking for hope where there’s no merriment
Our souls evaporating in the open air
Put through this vise of a social experiment
Living out here minus the love & support
There’s only so much a man can endure
Mother Nature whirling up the darkest storms
Blowing away my dreams I’m terribly sure

Hey, hey, hey, pretty mama
Please send me some news
It’s lonesome out here
I’ve got the middle of the ocean blues

Thankful for a little spit of dry land
Feeling a bit wobbly & out of sorts
Having a nice cold one under a palm
Time to recharge my batteries in this port
Soon enough, we’ll be back floating
Feeling the Earth’s rotation upon this burn
Long days of sweat & toiling work
Wearing my body out before I return

Hey, hey, hey, pretty mama
Please send me some news
It’s lonesome out here
I’ve got the middle of the ocean blues

Sunshine Cresting From The Sea

Sunshine cresting from the sea
A soul to be filled with love’s perfection
A mere vessel to carry on this life
Beating in my heart’s reflection

Allow me to circumvent your plans
Wedging myself in your obvious way
Please look me gently in the eyes
This happiness; where forever stays

You’re more than you’ll ever know
Our tandem rhythmically in stride
Your taste is existence’s paragon
Evermore with me at your side

Erratic Rumblings First Thing In The Morning

Photo by Matthias Groeneveld on Pexels.com

Erratic rumblings first thing in the morning
Thoughts all aglow from castiron candlesticks
Sunrise hasn’t interrupted my intercession
Another cup of coffee might ease my ticks

After watching too many hectic movie scenes
A set of expectations upon our furrowed brow
But I need to recede into my own soul
Let us return to existing in the here & now

You’re happiest when spooning a salted bourbon
& I’m certainly not one to overtly judge
But I’m at a crossroads in this life
From that woman; my heart defiantly won’t budge

With Summer’s Moonlight Shining Down

Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com

With Summer’s moonlight shining down
We’re not alive to merely appease everyone
Reminder to exist for your soul’s own sake
Basking in the fickle warmth of the rising sun

Released from those winter storms
Contending with heat & humidity down there
Be comfortable in your sovereignty
& thus release yourself from their stares

Do not double back & suffer fools
Stretch to become your complete ability
Expanding your mind to finally believe
& thus be fully & truly free

Rigormortis Of The Soul

Photo by Szelei Robert on Pexels.com

Rigormortis of the soul
Dejected along emotional failings
Tempered seas begin to roll
White knuckles; hold fast to the railings

Sorting feelings like a rolodex
Trampled yearning from Jaguar years
Unprepared for survival
Causing the most elaborate of your fears

Processing out foreign memories
But the answers just get in the way
Undisciplined in self-diagnosis
A sturdy smile in the face of the seaspray

The Drippings Of My Mind

Photo by Tara Winstead on Pexels.com

The drippings of my mind
The office, a soul in paper mâché
Books & notes of imagination
A collection of stories we played

It’s a subtle knowledge herein
Years of experience slightly compressed
Nicks, faults & scars smoothed over
Though I remain unimpressed

Scratching away at this drivel
Nothing created in which to be content
Scrambling for fresh ideas
At this pace, I’ll never relent

Typing, Hacking, Thinking – Smokin’ Hot

Typing, hacking, thinking – Smokin’ hot
Typing your best to empty all thought

Pouring your soul into force upon the keys
Your woman walks past with a dress above the knees

Now you can’t think or type or stammer straight
The hell with with deadlines – this one’s gonna be late

You pray to the spirits of procastrination or whatever you think of
Burn this project right now, sacrifice it in the name of love

A Palpable Desire

A palpable desire
Feeling it from deep within
Drowning my anxiety
Beneath 4 olives, vermouth & gin

Supposed to be a functioning adult
But I say bollocks to all that noise
It wasn’t all that long ago, still
Running the streets with the boys

Though I dress better now
The soul leaking through the cracks
My heart is a fragile commodity
Foreboding the oncoming attack

Emerging From The Night Of Lost Souls

one-3075733_1920.jpg

 

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

Counting Out The Steps

Counting out the steps
Crawling on all fours
One, two three, one two, three
You deny the circus, but they’re really yours

Giving her another twirl
We’re standing naked & stark
You speak your pretentious slang
Only exposed in the dark

I’m here with your midnight medicine
My beautiful babe, bottoms up!
But I remain steadfast
Watching you spill out of your lace cups

I Often Catch Myself

hair-1836368

 

 

I often catch myself

Glancing up at your windowpane

Occasionally seeing a silhouette

Memories of youth still remain

 

Possibly spying a lacy chemise

But now you’re wearing the curtains

Or maybe there was nothing on

But I couldn’t know for certain

 

The morning light not quite seen

I might feel like a common creeper

Alternate lifetimes in my mind

Yet I know you’d still be a keeper

I see your beautiful soul hiding

That passionate soul now a mere outline

Locked away in your precious life

I’m sure you’d say you’re ‘doing fine’

 

Possibly spying a lacy chemise

But now you’re wearing the curtains

Or maybe there was nothing

But I couldn’t know for certain

 

I see boundaries in your thought

I’m not intending to be rude

You can make your own decisions

I don’t wish to trespass nor intrude

You’re the princess in your castle

Not a figment of my invention

Locked eyes before you look away

Somehow grateful for the attention

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

The Man Has You Grinding Away

Photo by Viktor Mogilat on Pexels.com

 

 

 

The man has you grinding away
The organ makes the monkey dance
You’re looking for the Promised Land
But you never really had the chance

You’re writing your soul on the page
Friends support & love all they heard
But the critics cry foul & laugh bitterly
You’re only as good as your last word

Sitting In Front Of The Vanity

Photo by KoolShooters on Pexels.com

Sitting in front of the vanity
Deciphering all your beauty marks
You see lines, wrinkles & blemishes
I see my very own Domestic Monarch


You’ll never see what my soul knows
But, I know how lucky I am to have this view
I’ll spend my days discovering new ways to cherish
I’m grateful you allow me to share eternity with you

I Won’t Judge You

stool-963179_1920.jpg

I won’t judge you for your past
I don’t care how your body looks
Inward – we all contain equal souls
We can all absorb the beauty of books

Go read! Fitzgerald, Kerouac, Twain
Emerson, Rand, Tolstoy, Hemingway
Thoreau, Dostoyevsky, Neruda, Yeats
Great words are forever here to stay

It is solely up to you
To build up your literary wealth
But I will constantly judge you
For the contents of your bookshelf

Image by klimkin from Pixabay

One Must Be A Seeker

Photo by Suliman Sallehi on Pexels.com

One must be a seeker
To discover unique truth amongst the thorns
Head down, hiding that grime I feel inside
I’m intelligent, yet not enough to forewarn

Trying to eek out a stable existence
With all these storms heading my way
But you have to want to be something more
Never content at the beginning of the day

We’re bordering on anarchy
With the streets continuing to seethe
This communal madness
Fighting for our shared right to breathe

But I have a long forgotten confession
Which will leave you confused & aghast
Tacked to the back of a soul’s liberty
Forever within the defense of our contrasts

Unfolding Broken Dreams

Photo by Brett Jordan on Pexels.com

Unfolding broken dreams
The distant & diluted flow
Our hopeless choices astound
The truth? We still don’t know

But we can never give up
Clinging to the last of our visions
Memories cultivated on dark nights
Leaving us exposed with obvious incisions

How do you translate a morning
When your soul bears undiagnosed pain
Scars from a life well lived
For in the end, disillusioned cannot remain

Disquieted Moments In The Afternoon

Photo by Mister Mister on Pexels.com

Disquieted moments in the afternoon
These Springtime rays have a golden hour
Reflecting youth into my weary eyes
The reassuring notion of dreampower

Yet gone are the mornings we woke afresh
Our mortal flesh reeling down on Earth
Life; the thorn in the side of this existence
Internal fire requires our souls a wider berth

The slings & arrows shall never fully hinder
For love always eventually finds a way
Darkness cannot extinguish the sun
This truth discovered by the piercing light of day

An Innocent Looking Soul

Photo by Rachel Claire on Pexels.com

An innocent looking soul
Draped with an ethereal gown
Confident strides across the patio
With Eve’s revenge
Crisp air – like the first bite of a green apple
Obscured; knowing her nectar to be my cure

I watch her bosom swell
It’s not objectivization
For I worship her
Refreshed in waves
This transparent Victorian hypocrisy
Knowing all that ails
& an unseen wound

Yet morning crests
Pale orange sky forces it’s way through space
In the arms of naked trees
I’m celebrating femininity
Spring’s arrival in a sundress
As she teases me with breathless recitals
Our love not by design
But still goes well with NorCal wine

I’m Trying To Find The Rhythm To Life

couple-2498664_1920.jpg

 

I’m trying to find the rhythm to life
The way for our souls to feel fresh & free
Purging the endless stress & strife
Standing open in the sunshine, just you & me

I’m trying to find more substance in life
While being cleansed by the Lord’s cool sea
Forever embracing my beloved, beautiful wife
Together; is the only place I’ll ever want to be

She’s Shakin’ Those Hips

photo-shoot-on-the-floor-1937659_1920.jpg

She’s shakin’ those hips
Drivin’ me wild with thirst
If I try to tag along
My mind’ll surly burst
Please loosen my tie
Could I have a slug of wine
If I close my eyes
Could she ever be mine
It’s a delicate inferno
Blazin’ through the night
I find myself dry
Only she’s in my sight
Vision’s gettin’ thick
Consciousness gettin’ deep
My soul to believe
She’s too salacious to sleep

 

Image by Khusen Rustamov from Pixabay

There’s Something To Be Said For Going Outside

There’s something to be said for going outside
Wallowing in the dirt, smearing it on your skin
Returning your soul to the Earth, to be truly free
There’s only one life; you’ve got to get it in
Remove society’s reign over your instincts
Dance unhindered; strip & frolic completely bare
Be at peace with the natural world’s glory
Stand proudly and let your nips feel the Spring air

I Think You Have The Wrong Notion Of Me

people-2561921_1920.jpg

I think you have the wrong notion of me
I could be wrong, but it’s what I believe
I’m neither the saint nor the villain
In which your notions are trying to achieve

I’m not nearly as arrogant as I portray
That’s merely the manifestation of a fictional role
I know confidence is sexy & I’m trying my best
But I have doubts regarding the quality of the contents of my soul

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

Willfully Getting Lost In The Woods With My Woman

Photo by Denniz Futalan on Pexels.com

Willfully getting lost in the woods with my woman
Far from the hordes of the sick & infected
Shutting doors & leaving society behind
Once away, fresh air & peaceful intent detected

Outside, I can find the crispness of nature
& my pure, unencumbered path to be free
Wrapping my soul within Winter’s chill
These unharnessed elements might be the key

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

Returning To Simplicity

Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Pexels.com

Returning to simplicity
Tossing out these fledgling fates
Stunted growth increasing these days
Hindered by our technological rates
I don’t want to watch my soul wilt
I want to break free & soak up the sunshine
I’m through with this culture of victims
You’ll hear the dial tone & know its mine

Faith In A Baby Child

adult-1869624

I put my faith in a baby child
& He will lead me
I will follow in His path
Being shown what I need to see
I give Him my whole life
I will seek His truth
In my soul He does dwell
Guiding me through days of youth
His love will lift me up
Through the life He gave
I have faith in my Lord
& I know that i am saved

Evading Their Ongoing Tragedies

Photo by Laura Stanley on Pexels.com

Evading their ongoing tragedies
Forty summers spent down in the dirt
Withstanding the weight of apocalypse
Emerging; though slightly less overt
Blast furnace of the afternoon sun
Dali walking barefoot on Tampa’s shores
Pale riders within unabsorbed light
Embracing purity through perception’s doors
The paint of our secret love notes
But can only be read through the keyhole
Shying away from all public renditions
Her passionate words left imprinted on my soul

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

The Twinkling Of Stars At Night

Photo by Jeswin Thomas on Pexels.com

The twinkling of stars at night
Dispatched souls with nothing to lose
Our lost matchbook fantasies
Dwindling into aging suburban blues
Not fond of Covid nor the Spanish Flu
I’d rather have some Spanish Fly
Mix it in my cup, “yo baby, what’s up?”
I’m still that awkward ass, abnormative guy
Fading time to time into darkness
But I try to emerge into the light these days
A bounce in my step/mischief in my eye
Growing younger in spirit despite all these grays

Unplugging From The Mainframe

Photo by KEHN HERMANO on Pexels.com

Unplugging from the mainframe
Remaining forever off the grid
Don’t need their connections
Don’t know if we ever truly did

The final tragic hero of a modern culture
The soul survivor of a discarded revolution
Histories & experience outside the norm
Dreams of freedom with divine attribution

Dealing with the conceits of perfection
The concepts of loneliness & betrayal
This world isn’t what we were promised
Token hints lost behind a fractured veil

The answers are hidden beyond this life
It may look bleak, but don’t you fret
We have the Source of Light
& they’re still riding that ol’ dialup internet

I’m Seeking A Truth

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

I’m seeking a truth within these fragmented words

My thoughts won’t cooperate with how my fingers move

Typing on this old handmedown machine to transform

My mundane existence into a magical, deliberate groove

I am not afraid to expose the flesh of a wilted soul

There are no heroes in these parts, just broken misanthropes

Internalizing the segmented society & all the villains

Returning to coffee so black the void regains precious hope

Just Because You’re The Inspiration

Photo by Tobias Bju00f8rkli on Pexels.com

Just because you’re the inspiration
Doesn’t mean you’re the intended
Taking what life gives us
Even those not comprehended
Just because you’re the muse
Doesn’t mean you’re the truth
Finding open sores upon the soul
Lingering there since early youth
Just because you’re the source
Doesn’t mean you’re all that real
Gone once my fingers close
You’re merely a ghost my heart can feel

Attempting To Maintain Where Imperfections Shunned

people-2991882_1920.jpg

 

Attempting to maintain where imperfections shunned
Marching toward time with the burden of flaws
Waking to find age has not been kind
Slowly decaying according to physics and natural laws
Mortality; a stark reminder of life
Leaving me kneeling with a heart full of hymns
My soul rejecting this modern existence
Yet, no matter what, I refuse to be society’s Hester Prynne

The World Is Full Of Villains & Misguided Souls

Photo by Edward Eyer on Pexels.com

The world is full of villains & misguided souls
Trying to drag us down to where they forever dwell
They take advantage & find ways to get elected on lies
Summoning their teams of bureaucrats to send us to hell
They have money, power & zero regard for the truth
You’d have to be deaf, dumb & blind to not know what’s amiss
But I don’t want to give them anymore of our time
I solely want to focus on our next kiss

Just A Guy With A Pen

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

I’m not an artist, just a guy with a pen
Upon a lonely night, I started to write
I jotted down some rhymes for me
Teen angst channeled into the light
I’ve never looked back to think
I just keep writing over the decades
I don’t edit my feelings nor judge you
Purely an attempt for the soul not to fade

Awake Early In The Naked, Teal Morning

Awake early in the naked, teal morning

Still wet from dancing in the rain

My subconscious kissing her femininity

But the memories remain love-stained

Her fingers gripping my shoulders

Our souls constantly trying to absorb

Soft, low moans quietly evident

I’m enchanted by her fleshy orbs

We’re exposed in the light of dawn

A realness that won’t be concealed

We have a glow of our own

No words exist, but a truth she can feel

These Stories Are Figments Of Hope

Photo by Monica Silvestre on Pexels.com

These stories are figments of hope
Simple words from a mind of an everyday man
These theatrics of an unknown sort
Living through each day without scope or plan
Journey to the water’s edge to find a salve
To bathe our souls in God’s great sea
I’m not close to your idea of perfection
But I’m forgiven; a better concept to be

Offering Up A Minimalism

Photo by Min An on Pexels.com

Offering up a minimalism
Finding cool without effort
Not weak enough to share
Tough; never going to revert
A mental state removed
Not allowing for them to kill
My soul still beating today
The essence won’t be distilled
Try as you forever might
I won’t be boiled down to a word
No single thought or character
All my expressions slowly heard

Riding The Cooler Winds Back East

clipper-989030

 

Riding the cooler winds back east
Someday my simple dreams will prevail
Spent too many nights frozen & cold
Once again lost, I know he’s on my trail
Speak to me, for I’ll know if you tell the truth
Look at me, so I’ll know we’ll make it through
This soul damaged in these distant years
Wanting to be pure & return back to you
I need to shine down a path for your life
I want to be an example for you as you grow
May you always have shelter to weather a storm
I contain a perfect love you’ll come to know
You don’t know it yet, but you’re going to save me
A lifetime of joy just waiting for us to find
Adventures & endless discoveries ours to share
A new life, released from that which binds

*written many moons ago before the birth of my first child

Collecting Fresh-Faced Girls With Monogrammed Asses

Photo by Roberto Nickson on Pexels.com

Collecting fresh faced girls with monogrammed asses
Spending the morning listening to the Blues
An old soul within that youthful mindframe
Toe tapping, blackout shades & misleading tattoos
I begin to think I’m the one lured
But all we have between us is coffee stained mug rings
Embrace the possibilities of the moment
Join in the beauty of desperate sorrow of BB King
This day is such a sunny tease
Through passion, we become another bedpost notch
A memory Today will keep for all posterity
As she makes me taste the glories of her vagazzeled crotch

Tonight We’re Going To Step On Out

cannon-925081

 

 

Tonight we’re going to step on out

Letting the cool breeze touch our souls

Watching the darkness quietly creep in

Holding hands as we take gentle pulls

The whiskey settles into a familiar burn

Nothing remaining but what we are

Excluding the day’s negative traits

Naturally only wearing the glow from the stars

 

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

The Indoctrination Is Complete

 

The indoctrination is complete
They molded you just right
Removing the will to struggle
Stripping you of the desire to fight
You work for them these days
A concise, common goal
Gone are the thoughts of freedom
An iron fist smashing your soul
No longer an individual
Lost all your character traits
You belong to the system now
Let your bones fill with hate

Counting All My Cufflinks

fashion-1853294

Counting all my cufflinks

You tied my perfect tie

Another night by the bay

Lost within the foggy sky

Seeming to float as you walk

Affection rose by a mere kiss

Evening air cool upon your soul

Never knew we could be like bliss

Your dress flailing behind

Setting down an opaque trail

Everything a dream could be

Forever wrapped by the sail

 

Telling Stories After Dark

Telling stories after dark
Occasionally with Tom Waits in the lead
Fantastical little allegories
Bringing a light to those souls in need

No need to whisper in the shadows
Luminous words to prepare the way
Removing barriers to our enlightenment
Witticisms fleshed out & on display

Short tales to get creative juices flowing
Harking back to dreams that we might meet
Subtle differences between the pauses
Allowing our imaginations to properly greet

Scenes from our own round table
Foreplay within our cheeky banter
Conjuring visions of a keen passion
Diluted memories at the bottom of our decanter

Bad behavior leads to a more examined life
Though through fiction we can live eternal
A little more sensitive than you want to believe
Yearning to be held by a beautiful dame so maternal

Out here with our hearts raised to the sky
Searching for better answers on the midnight shore
With the freedom to imagine wisdom laid bare
Parsed theories for when we sent them off to war

Subtle manipulation within our romantic esthetics
Unreliable narrators marching; our literary brigade
There’s no vernacular for hearts’ folly
Pushing forth our gentle notion love might persuade

In the end, dear friends, our parable is contrite
In this heinous world, we all have a simple choice
I lay myself to slumber, a fatigued sailor
Wishing for a lullaby coming from Nick Cave’s voice

 

Image by Eli Digital Creative from Pixabay

Guiltily In Love

I’m guiltily in love; a mere pawn
Laying in these lowly tones
Stretched out upon the lawn
& feeling fresh here all alone
Whistling a soulful, soft dirge
With nothing better than this
Closing my eyes & you emerge
With nothing sweeter than a kiss

Don’t Tell Me How’s Its Gonna Be

 

Don’t tell me how’s its gonna be
When you’ve never been
I’ve seen the angry sea
You’re not among the salty men
Don’t act like you have a clue
Clinging to the dirt
You’ve never seen a color that blue
Never felt your soul cringe & hurt
You’re looking for easy praise
Don’t want to be a weathered cog
Riding waves on endless days
You’re still crisp; a mere pollywog

 

Image by David Mark from Pixabay

Released From The Burden Of Perfection

 

Released from the burden of perfection
Onward to complete this chance
Soaking in my soul’s refraction
I’m not grandiose, but I’ll enhance
Ripening with a golden age
This is nothing but a jagged gleam
A smudge on the stark white page
Determined to be more than a dream

The Tyranny Of Our Modern Age

 

The tyranny of our modern age
The repulsive nature of our exploited rights
Coming for us before the dawn
Another stolen soul in the night

But pump the brakes there Swamp Thing
Florida is basically the Outbreak Monkey
We can’t be too safe these days
Besides, a lot of y’all were already funky

I’ll be hunkered down, away from idiots
This blanket fort is causing me to itch
Stay home, so we can eventually go outside
Like Carole Baskin, the Covid is a bitch

The Sultan Of Suntan

 

The sultan of suntan
Smelling like oils & lotions
Sand clinging to your soul
Cleansed by the water’s motion
Purged of evaporating dreams
We can focus on existence
Wringing it all out
At love’s steadfast insistence
All secrets illuminated
Nothing remains within
Cover of cheap shades
Truth permeates the skin

Seeing All The Pretty People

Seeing all the pretty people
Seeing them encased in glass
All their assets on display
Trimmed in polished brass
Prancing & strutting proudly
Unaware of their obligation
Souls such as these
Come with a re-appropriation
Trade off for their gifts
Liabilities detrimental & hyper
Left in an excited state when
It comes time to pay the piper

You’re A Questionable Soul

 

You’re a questionable soul
Lying in the Captain’s brig
After drinking his scotch
& wearing his wife’s wig
Definitely conduct unbecoming
Her voice sounding the alarm
The man knows your name now
Surely you’ll swing from the yardarm

Low Evenings Persistently Intrude

Low evenings persistently intrude

Fancy parties & sensitive souls

Facades draped in lush decor

Strong mixed spirits don’t leave you full

Trashy nights with unseen acquaintances

Low cut blouses & nylon dreams in heels

Witnessing dancers locked in solitude

Push away the day

We don’t need another slow reveal

It’s A Sparse Paradise These Days

It’s a sparse paradise these days

Feeling another season coming on

Not supposed to feel like this

At least that’s the way we’ve been drawn

She’s still the poor pretty rich girl

Never could get off the same page

Repeated struggles to survive

Tripping on my lines; a vapid stage

Reality is an emotion detached from my soul

You never needed everyone to love you

Instilled confidence to merely exist

Forethought is a luxury that might just be true

Transcripts of the past’s failures

We’ve learned, but not out of society’s grip

False starts & then some

Rising, but we’re still not quite hip

My Love Rests Beyond The Ocean

My love rests beyond the ocean

Beyond the miles I can’t control

The one I need to return to

The one whom is intertwined with my soul

Marking stitches upon the globe

I’m stuck on faraway shores

Missing the girl who makes my heart smile

Knowing I don’t want to travel anymore

The world holds no interest to me

For without my bride, I only see greyscale

Time & distance, mere obstacles

I’m coming back, even though I no longer sail

Image by Milada Vigerova from Pixabay 

The Wind Howling At Midnight

 

The wind howling at midnight
Broken windows – open to the outside air
Exposed to the communal by-passer
Her soul had fallen into disrepair
Fatigue & listless emotions manifesting
Immune to careless compliments
Time to pause & regroup her focus
Happiness born from common sense

Perfection Laid Out On Satin Sheets

Perfection laid out on satin sheets
Beauty dripping away piece by piece
Every dream slipped right through
Life & loss masked by laughing creases
He said you were everything he desired
Burning deep in his soul, but you refused
Moving too fast to stop & notice him
Yet you cry foul, saying you were abused
The sun rises no matter who is pained
Recall broken hearts when you’re the cause
Plump out your pretty pink lips
In the quiet of night, please retract your claws
Calm thyself, you know your own heart
Time to realize you’re the fatal flaw

Drinking Black Coffee Out Of Delta Cups

Drinking black coffee out of Delta cups
The cheap seats listening to Empire Burlesque
Mixed metaphors crawling in the night
Still pondering why a raven is like a writing desk

Dislodged tea parties & cries of Nevermore
The world swiftly swirling all around me
Reducing myself into my words
Hiding now within punctuation & necessity

Unsure of our place in time
Triangulations are stretch marks on the soul
Society wants me to be all shiny
But more often than not, I’m tired & dull

Where do we find our inspirations
The formulations upon our existence
Personalities discarded to the rubbish pile
Pushing us further away within time & distance

A Cup Of Coffee Sounds Mighty Nice

A cup of coffee sounds mighty nice

Talking away hours in the sun

Warmth after this long cold winter

Experiences overall count as one

Coming times to start all over

No need to hesitate or soften your walk

Forced feelings fall a little short

Take time & measure when you talk

A friend is a friend forever

But be weary as not to injure

Broken hearts never quite heal

Through a loving soul will always endure

SkyFall

aircraft-3020976_1920.jpg

 

It’s not a crime to be pretty
Wearing rented dresses, searching for a breadwinner
Socialites & other plastic people
No redeeming qualities, but she wants to be thinner
Her vagina will accept almost anything
Whether it be dollars, pounds, marks or kroner
A consummate professional at all times
She expects to be well paid for every geriatric boner
You don’t look gift whores in the mouth
Searching for a sugar daddy, anyone will do
Sitting in the bullpen, hoping to get promoted
Waiting to pluck her next victim, how many already gone through
That swath leaving nothing to the imagination
Offended when the whispers mention a gold digger
Everyone can spy those silicone scars
Next time she’ll go a couple of cups bigger
Sucking more than the marrow out of life
She’s trading her youth for money & security
But once tarnished, innocence forever besmirched
Time is constantly magnifying all your impurities
There are certain priorities in this life
A father must keep his daughters off the pole
But something much less discussed nowadays
What do you do once she grew without a soul
This scene is littered with heinous & fickle creatures
Cloaked, it slowly begins to scandalize & appall
Men with large billfolds & absolutely no shame
It’s the current failure of society & they call it Skyfall

 

 

 

*sorry, feeling quite caustic today

Running My Fingers Upon The Smooth Surface

Running my fingers upon the smooth surface
Keeping them always against the grain
I know my way through the Redwoods
They’re my protection against the dark stains

Born in the high desert among the cacti
Faint echoes from mission bells of yore
Great things come from fools with faith
Misguided souls remain thirsty for more

Stubborn & obstinate as hardwood
Needing my love to keep from being truculent
Even though our touch doesn’t always soften conditions
Nevertheless, she is still my favorite succulent

I’m Not Anywhere Near Perfect

I’m not anywhere near perfect
Contrary to your fictitious notions
Examining me through a skewed lens
Though I’ve been cleansed by the ocean
I’m not what you think you want
Flawed in all the wrong places
Underlining fragility & a fractured soul
But you’re still focused on the pretty faces
I can’t explain all the improper deviations
I’m not what you’ve wished you might discover
You’ve transcribed me into a possibility
But I’m already tethered to my perpetual lover
Don’t sacrifice your dreams
For what probably won’t ever be
Hold tight to your illusions
For only then can life set you free

Searching Cavernous Souls

Searching cavernous souls
Racking what I might believe
Splitting hairs of fragrant
Ideas wandering down my sleeve
But I’m not more righteous
Than the boys down on the beat
I’m flawed, sensitive – prone to anger
Stuck in a commuting rut; weakly on repeat
There’s quiet secret I might contain
Love & passion bubbling just beneath my skin
I think in poetry, but you desire a hero
Can’t compete with expectations; our mutual chagrin

Most Guys

Most guys

Will tell as many lies

As it takes to get between your thighs

But that’s not my goal

I’m just trying to find something to fill this hole

That has been left in my soul

*this is one of the first poems I can remember writing. I believe it goes back to ’94 or ’95.

Surviving By The Bright Light of Day

boards-2040575_1920.jpg

 

Surviving by the bright light of day
Pouring coffee directly into my weary eyes
Can’t sleep at night since I must remain alert
Anxious; trying to hide my soul’s invisible cries
Gathering my wits to merely successfully exist
Waiting for the other shoe to drop & Hell to begin
Tired of cowering away in forgotten silence
Appearing strong since no one sees the enemy within

Can We Puncture Our Transcendent Eyes

girl-438133_1920.jpg

 

Can we puncture our transcendent eyes
Feeling fantasies no one can understand
Trapped behind responsibility & expectation
Failing to grasp foundations as we planned
The difference in our souls transmit
Expounded by the beatings of our hearts
Revolutions begin when the cerebral are tired
But their might will never sever our parts
You cannot be weak if you’re truly weird
There’s no time for the molecules to rearrange
These burdens of an unimaginative society
Simply cannot fathom the depth of how you’re strange

I’m Not Feeling Strong These Days

nature-2591766_1920.jpg

 

I’m not feeling strong these days
With my soul in traction
Weakness seems to manifest itself
Sustaining a chain reaction
I’m not feeling invincible anymore
With my heart on the gallows block
Life can crush your spirit
While we’re busy serving the clock
I’m not feeling perfect, quite honestly
But I know there’s toughness somewhere
Upon a solid foundation I shall rise
With a firm grip on love & a fist in the air

Picking Out Tunes From A Lost Childhood

tape-salad-599459_1920.jpg

Picking out tunes from a lost childhood
Icons from an isolated life; memories fleeting
Can’t keep track of my overblown tragedies
My own imagination responsible for these beatings
My past is a weight, tugging at my fragile soul
Written missives, but she flew off to Ontario
Shunning my offerings for a comprehensive life
I speak of love, but she merely turns up the stereo

Emerging From The Cool Waters

floating-1854203_1920.jpg

Emerging from the cool waters
Morning swim to ease my mind
My soul’s been hacked
I needed an escape to unwind
Society is advancing
But merely on the people’s rights
Media’s a crooked lapdog
We’re doomed if we refuse to unite

Creep Villanelle 

Resisting the urge to flatter
Never taking such a leap
Beauty the heart of the matter
Ignored in your idle chatter
Left feeling like a forgotten heap
Resisting the urge to flatter
The thoughts come, but soon scatter
Keeping me from peaceful sleep
Beauty the heart of the matter
Love served on a silver platter
A tarnished memory much too cheap
Resisting the urge to flatter
My soul simmered to splatter
But our dreams aren’t that deep
Beauty the heart of the matter
Your image makes me all a-patter
Never wanting to come off as a creep
Resisting the urge to flatter
Beauty the heart of the matter

Tom Robbins

rv-925610.jpg

 

“Never underestimate how much assistance, how much satisfaction, how much comfort, how much soul and transcendence there might be in a well-made taco and a cold bottle of beer.”

Tom Robbins, Jitterbug Perfume

The John Wayne Type

woman-254720.jpg

I admit I’m not the John Wayne type
I’m not one who wants to fight
Though, I’m not afraid of confrontations
I’d just love rather love my woman by candlelight
I’m a sensitive soul
I’ve been called needy, immature & worse
I just want the time to write of my emotions
Creating a universe into which we’ll fully immerse