The Floorboards Weren’t So Cold This Morning

Photo by ArtHouse Studio on Pexels.com

The floorboards weren’t so cold this morning
Days grow longer, you can sense it in the air
Constellations shifting in the early sky
Brewing coffee pitch black to see if my pulse is still there

Waking to see the American Dream broken
But that’s only if you ever believed it was real
For now I’m going to enjoy this cup while it’s warm
& bask in this Springtime while I can still feel

Stayed Up All Night Trying To Write

pen-1743189_1920.jpg

Stayed up all night trying to write
I still can’t get you out of my head
Sleep didn’t come easy this night
Giving anything to only go to bed

The clock ticks past two & three
Knowing there’s nothing I’m going to find
Off dreaming of nothing, where I want to be
Another scotch to still my racing mind

Image by Florian Pircher from Pixabay

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

They Don’t Have Men

They don’t have men
Down at the newspaper anymore
Dusty ages disagree
They’ve forever closed the door

They’re hiding the truth
In the time of an information superhighway
Where they locked away Dignity
They’re not telling, they won’t say

We’re on our own out here alone
You think we’re lost & have much to fear
Stranded under this desert sky
Be still thy soul, for I was born out here

Treading Lightly On The Soft Highway

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Treading lightly on the soft highway
Searching onward for the Earthbound divinity
Through the desert with the primal scream
Broken decibels ring out, yet amount to infinity

Silver pistol tucked in drawer of hosiery
Known to man only by a chintzy nom de plume
I always preferred a thick bottomed almanac
Slowed, but we have big energy to exhume

Dawn rises, yet the Truth still silently sleeps
Looking for prophets in the glittering sun
Too bright for our modern, mortal myopia
Be still; be patient as time is not yet overrun

Immune To A Power Surge

Immune to a power surge
I sit alone & quietly type
Not affected by technology
Refuse to be your modern gripe

I switched off my terrestrial radio
But I’ll still pound at these keys
I’m not cool or a trendy guy
I’m reserved, doing as I please

There’s never been an audience
Just a few genuine folks
Sharing myself sparingly
I’m better with these slow strokes

I’ll continue to conjure ideas
Preferring to use my typewriter
Nothing fancy; just a love of words
Old, but I can still pull an all nighter

I Can’t Explain

Photo by Daria Shevtsova on Pexels.com

I can’t explain
I don’t have the frightful words
Just know I can still feel
Yet my notions contain the absurd

These nuisance actors linger
Youthful mistakes I always regret
The musty smell of a cracked spine
Odes & reams I can never forget

Vibrations Coursing Through Your Corset

Photo by Danielle Reese on Pexels.com

Vibrations coursing through your corset
Am I still making you nervous, my dear
Does your heart beat louder in that chest
Whenever I come near

Walk slowly across the room to me
Let me watch your beauty in motion
The deliberate steps in those heels
Your passion overtaking the ocean

Admiring the view of your new tights
You spoil me something mighty, Miss
My love has never been more obvious
I’ll explain it all through this kiss

Wash Away My Sins

demonstration-425278

 

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

 

 

 

Waking Up Before The Sun

Photo by Mateusz Dach on Pexels.com

Waking up before the sun
To quietly drink coffee & read
I have this worn & aging body
But a youthful intellect to feed
Take advantage of the still hours
Before the chaos of my daughters
Soon I’ll be tied up like Gulliver
& this coffee won’t get any hotter