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’ve Stripped Myself Bare

Photo by Drigo Diniz on Pexels.com

I’ve stripped myself bare
No longer an ego to drown
My words speak for themselves: aware

I sift for existence in coffee grounds
Judge not – yet you cry foul & unfair
A mirror does not create your frown

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

Make Sure You Call Her Beautiful

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Make sure you call her beautiful
Don’t refer to her as merely ‘hot’
Don’t say tits or tatas
Be respectful of all that she’s got

Be charming when you speak of your lady
Be a gentleman; know how the game is played
Don’t divulge any of her secrets
When you shut your mouth; a better chance to get laid

Plastering The Interweb With Fragmented Thought

Plastering the interweb with fragmented thought Cultivating an insane kind of fame Convincing an illiterate society That you’re more than just a silly name Penning out frivolously piddly odes Basking in the lack of their attention span Trying so hard to be cool, plus Your slams make me not want to give a damn The barely legible equivalent of an Insta-model Don’t you know, writers write & speakers squeak A farce played out in bits & bytes Preying on the vapid, the stupid & the weak You’ve grown your hipster beard You fancy yourself as suave & dapper But I know your dirty little secret That you’re no PaRappa the Rapper

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

Be Careful When You’re Out In The Woods

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

Be careful when you’re out in the woods
Dancing under the fairies & good folk
Between the dreams & murky mists
Listening to every single word we spoke

There are no secrets when you’re here
You become one with the falling leaves
Magic & Pixie Dust in the air
Before you ever see, you must first believe

Speaking All The Buzzwords

Photo by ELEVATE on Pexels.com

Speaking all the buzzwords
But those aren’t the vibes she wants
The death of your compassion
Is what will forever haunt

Double down on speeches & poses
Before you try for her feminist knickers
But she needs something more
Than your wick to get thicker

Speak Up, Stand Up; Announce To The World

Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko on Pexels.com

Speak up, stand up; announce to the world
Spread the news of truth’s availability
Don’t be shy; we’re all in this together
Easy now, no need to hate on my virility

I honestly distrust anything popular or sacred
Passing them by & allow them to hide
I have to figure it out 20 years later
Force-filtered through life & time & tide

Opposing magnetic poles claiming Orwell
Both deluding themselves he’s their saint
But he was human & all the related flaws
His divinity seems a little too quaint

We need people with a firm, decisive choice
No interest in your ineffectual, intellectual porn
There’s no time for pussyfooting around
We must find the truth & feed it to the bullhorn

Listening To Wollstonecraft On The Radio

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Listening to Wollstonecraft on the radio
“Don’t turn that dial!”, that’s what the DJ said
Not tied to any system; I’m still analog
I’m dangerous; so the advertisers pled

Hereditary responsibility to the common good
Therefore I don’t believe what I’ve been taught
I see y’all got opinions, from your suburban thrones
& these school systems regurgitating corporate rot

Criminal malpractice leaves us with poor examples
But we’ve seen far worse on both sides of the aisle
Bribing the lowest common denominator for votes
Rewrite history, but perhaps that’s not in your files

I’ve been cast off, labeled a subversive heretic
But I’m easy – so I’m doing my best to unlearn
To unwind these falsehoods they tried to entrench
The slow burn; time to take candor for a turn

Rash choices based upon juvenile aesthetics
The understanding that we all might partake
Though one must know speaking the truth too loud
Turns into testimony & they might burn us all at the stake

You Speak Of The Boatman

Photo by Stan Swinnen on Pexels.com

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

III. Even The Poor

Photo by Ekrulila on Pexels.com

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

Photo by JESSICA TICOZZELLI on Pexels.com

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

Photo by Erik Mclean on Pexels.com

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

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