You speak of the boatman
But you’ve never been down
To where the river meets the sea
We seek out a forgotten spark
But you never cared for others
The blinding discord of tranquility
You Speak Of The Boatman
speak
III. Even The Poor
Even the poor can spirit an uprising
Don’t speak to me of your pragmatic lever
I’m not going to buy into your propaganda
Never a card-carrying member, nor true believer
Pouring A Tall Wine In The Fine Crystal
Pouring a tall wine in the fine crystal
The fancy stuff from our Wedding day
Leaving behind clothing as we speak
Your look disregards anything I have to say
My eyes are up here, my beautiful Bride
Please focus on my charm & wit
I can tell you only desire one thing
But first lady, you’re going to have to submit
What Do I Do With My Words
What do I do with my words
How do I contain when they start to leak
Like the Little Dutch Boy
Who’s listening when I start to speak
But I can’t worry about the audience
I’ve got to keep playing my own tune
The steady groover with the proper notes
When it comes to our hearts, no one is immune
If You Met Me In Person
If you met me in person
You’d think I was an uninteresting guy
That I had no personality
But the truth is I can be painfully shy
But if you let my words speak
I can flourish & blossom before your eyes
There might be something worthy
If only you can wait for the surprise
The Carcasses Of Inspiration
The carcasses of inspiration
Wine glasses with Burgundy residue
Speaking to late nights & early mornings
Scribbles in the margin on the follow through
Feeling parched as I wake
Noticing your lipstick stains
Upon the rim of the glass
Reminding me of the dreams that remain
Bleary eyed, drinking the coffee grounds
Searching for a fate within the dregs
Fumbling over these typewriter keys
Lightheaded when I see your naked legs
Your smile is a distraction
But you pop a button & then one more
I’m at your complete mercy
Once the nightgown hits the floor
Image by TastyCinnamonn from Pixabay
I Can’t Speak To You With An Unbuttoned Blouse
I can’t speak to you with an unbuttoned blouse
I can’t stop dreaming about what might be
My eyes drift as I’m quiet as a mouse
I can’t help but objectify all that I see
I’m trying to be your gentleman caller
My purpose was to be on an even level
But you have me squirming a little taller
Falling for you again as you’re perfectly disheveled
You Didn’t Sell Out, You Bought In
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
Picking Out Tunes From A Lost Childhood
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
