Lost in the crumbs of the paper fiber
A fresh nib shall never replace the quill
Smearing the answers with lazy strokes
The hazard of firing off missives at will
Lost In The Crumbs Of The Paper Fiber
stroke
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
Restless Strokes Of The Brush
Restless strokes of the brush
The telltale image of our love combined
Closing our eyes to life’s explanations
Marching to the sunrise; no longer confined
I. There’s No Need To Get Bogged Down
There’s no need to get bogged down
By the regime or other Negative Nancy
Our world is tough enough these days
Our lives aren’t here to stroke some evil fancy
Incomplete Rants Are Broken Thoughts
Incomplete rants are broken thoughts
Antique shutters dangle in the breeze
Vaccinated by expired truth serums
Eye twitches; our hostess is ill at ease
Yet remaining upright on the page
Our fate wrapped in a trickster’s charm
Subtle strokes without remorse
Only dried ink leaves us disarmed
Subverting all the easy answers
Sacred is our fundamental right to choose
However your speculations drift
Cut the devil’s throat and wrap him in Winter’s hues
Captain Q 