The summer is already sweltering
I’m trying to survive, so I have nothing on
The neighbor lady won’t stop staring
Perhaps I shouldn’t be out here watering my lawn

suburban
Quiet, Unassuming

Quiet, unassuming
Knee deep in your chores
Content in your blessings
But once dreamed of more
Passion fizzled with stress
Domestically kept & cared
Cloaked in suburban life
But I see beauty in there
Waking Early Before The Morning


Waking early before the morning
Monitoring the world, as I sip my achromatic brew
The front window, my porthole to beyond
From this security, I decipher what is true
I try to formulate tangible creations
Converting inspiration into mere words
Observations from my suburban perch
Sharing stories with Poe’s bleak-hued bird
Writing down the secrets she might share
Enlivening my dreams on this quiet block
Churning thoughts into hopeful spools
In which might allow my mind to dynamically unlock
Listening To Wollstonecraft On The Radio

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
Securely Sheltered In Your Castle

Securely sheltered in your castle
He makes sure you’re secluded
Always firmly safe from all harm
Obviously he’s benignly deluded
The loneliness still quietly invades
The walls upward of 10 feet high
Locks, bolts & your skeleton keys
Helpless against memories of a guy
Your suburban paradise glitters
But you’d rather be alive instead
Perfection laid at your feet, but
The punk of your youth isn’t dead
Suburban Arcades & Record Stores

Suburban arcades & record stores
Love notes left jammed in the teletype
Ancient technologies lost to whims of time
Sacrilege of consuming before it’s ripe
Littered by dreams of public-school poets
Falling to the feminine side of healing
Whose obedience to authority lingers
But only the lonely are rhymin’ & stealin’
Our literary antihero catching the cliff notes
A repressed childhood is still better by half
Trying to make up for that deleted time
But you can’t get far by writing on decaf
Standing with arms braced to the wind
Needing antiquity to know how we perform
Rolling empty dice against our loaded fates
Summer on the coast ensures the storm
I’m Rockin’ This Dad Bod
I’m rockin’ this dad bod
& making it look good
Unapologetically localized
Home in Suburban neighborhoods
I’m not trying to distract
Any of the ladies living nearby
I’m just trying to live my life
I’m just your normal, boring guy
I’m prematurely grumpy
A hermit; writing down in the dungeon
Devastatingly handsome, locked away
Keep out! – here be a curmudgeon
Once Upon A Suburban Street

Once upon a suburban street
Where we lived, loved & laughed
Summer comes early in Jax
So, this house no longer has a draft
Warmth lets me resume my natural being
Yet windows aren’t doors; they’re see-through
I strut along, giving my neighbors
A bit more than a casual view
The Twinkling Of Stars At Night

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