Picking up my woman along the way
A short enough skirt that’ll surely tease
Soft tones upon the extinguished day
Wine & song that I might forever please
Snapping fingers & popping buttons
Ample latitude that I might play her fool
Admittedly; for her touch I’m a glutton
My own words reveal me to still be uncool
My ravishing mettle giving her just cause
Subtly picking up her heels and hemline
This rakish spirit providing her pause
Exposing joy & unadulterated sunshine
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External pressures without comparative edges
Weighing down the spirit of our voice The uneasy relationship with original thought Fate passes us by when we cannot rejoice Like this: Like Loading...
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Gather around children
It’s time to listen to a tale Of mean-spirited politicians & how they’re trying to make society fail
Never trust those your parents elected
They’re out here banning books for kicks Aggressively stupid speeches at rallies While demonstrating fascist parlor tricks
Be careful to watch your language
Lest you offend an old white man Your school libraries might be empty But I’ll share all the books they ban Like this: Like Loading...
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Too many punks
But only in the aesthetically pleasing sense
Bought their shirts at the 5 & Dime
Along with safety pins
& commercially foraged tattoos
(Can we discuss how punk’s not supposed to be safe?)
Where’s the independence?
Where’s the penchant to damn the man?
Find your sovereign spirit
For no one’s really punk
Until everyone thinks they’re uncool Like this: Like Loading...
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The magic of the Holidays still gets to me
You’ll find me wiping my tears with a sleeve I’m not ashamed to outwardly proclaim it I still believe
These days I walk the streets with childlike innocence
Searching for anything with the Christmas spirit But I find most of the world has become Scrooge A sad truth & many of you don’t wanna hear it
But I know we can be better than this
All of us can always return back here To the love & magic of the Holidays Let me be the first to pour you a cup of cheer Like this: Like Loading...
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 Like this: Like Loading...
It was a one-eyed kind of morn
With evening’s festivities going awry I scrawled out all I could remember Once a gentleman, turned drunken guy
Slight images of a lovely form
Olfactory sparks upon my brain Sketching the party’s guest list But no new faces could remain
Racking my skull for a proper memory
Writing down every & each detail Compiling a list to rediscover I’m trying to think, but it’s to no avail
A faceless gown with affectionate gloves
Somehow my mind is able to recall Cognitive fragments begin to linger Clouded out by last night’s alcohol
Scenes slowly begin to return
I believe we’re out on the dance floor An embrace of smoldering desire Yet I couldn’t figure out any more
Scraps of notes spread before me
No identity to place upon the truth Scant reason to be shy in my search Basking in honesty of my lapsed youth
Cobwebs have been sparsely lifted
Won’t think of her in the past tense Her ghostly touch encourages me yet We shall meet again, I firmly sense
To hold her with determined spirit
Seems fantastical at this sad rate Yet she’s left fingerprints upon me Remaining until I succumb to my fate Like this: Like Loading...
Such a difference
In a button or two How you tease me The way you do My weary spirits Begin to rise You make it hard To look you in the eyes… Like this: Like Loading...
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You give up your voice
When you choose to take their hand You sacrifice your honor When you go joining their faceless band
You deem yourself unremarkable
Once they take away your vote No longer choosing for yourself Their drudging spirit grabs your throat
The hoard directs you how to think
& can make you recite all sorts of things You deserve your time in Hell When you hand them your own strings Like this: Like Loading...
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Dreams of pretty dancing girls
Tartan skirts & gold buckles on their shoes
Legs draped in such fine stockings
High kicks, but treasure out of view
The fantasy of a joyous party
Spirited music playing a bit loud
Fiddles & bagpipes; what a scene
You pulled me out of the dense crowd
Beauty of drinking black beer all day
My stature begins to slightly tilt
You quietly asked me for a light
But there’s no pockets in this kilt
Envisioning what the night might bring
Is it possible that you could be this real
Sharing a pint in a secluded corner
A second Guinness is considered a meal Like this: Like Loading...
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She said I was, “trying to conjure the ghost of Bukowski”
I told her there was better writers to admire I’m not in college anymore Drinking & degrading women won’t light my fire I’m looking for inspiration to ignite my soul A need to be revolutionized from the daily grind Normalcy & the mundane will kill my spirit I’m pushing forward to nurture & excite this weary mind Like this: Like Loading...
Let me get out into the world
While everyone else is still in bed
Let me move these old bones
I need to get fresh air into my head
Too many stagnant mornings
With nothing to show for the exertion
Feeling low in my spirits
Like I’m a soul still prone to desertion
I need to discover a permanent solution
To rid my life of heartbreak & pain
I don’t want to struggle anymore
Results from my effort & not simply remain Like this: Like Loading...
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 Like this: Like Loading...
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Carefully chosen sentence structures
The love of words keeping you from the cold Bundled in that threadbare cardigan But you never allowed your spirit to be sold
The world wishes to destroy your soul
& watch gleefully as you wither & cry But as long as you keep on writing You’ll learn that you can never really die Like this: Like Loading...
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The sun rising too quickly
Causing you to begin cursing These are our shared moments With these spirits we’re nursing
The cold causing me to shiver
I need some more of your covers But you have none to spare Exposing you; a temperamental lover Like this: Like Loading...
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A picture postcard perfect appearance
Modest, yet smoldering beauty beneath A festive spirit expounding – Winter’s tales Out singing carols & hanging a wreath
But once you come home for the day
Put on those hooker lips & pirate boots Time to release your animalistic desire Tired of being demure & a little too cute
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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 Like this: Like Loading...
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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 Like this: Like Loading...
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Longboarding in a sundress
Unusual, yes, but don’t complain
She’s free within her soul
A spiritual moment in the rain
Do not hinder
Those who are not afraid
Let them live as they please
For you motivate when you forbade Like this: Like Loading...
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Teetering on the edge of normalcy
The unraveling of misguided forms This mind won’t settle into boredom Will not compromise the quelling of the storm Do not attempt to dampen this fire My spirit will continue to actively soar For I won’t be cajoled to become bland Feeling fresh & alive, always reaching for more Like this: Like Loading...
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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 Like this: Like Loading...