Middle Of the Ocean Blues

Paddling around the remotest parts
Looking for hope where there’s no merriment
Our souls evaporating in the open air
Put through this vise of a social experiment
Living out here minus the love & support
There’s only so much a man can endure
Mother Nature whirling up the darkest storms
Blowing away my dreams I’m terribly sure

Hey, hey, hey, pretty mama
Please send me some news
It’s lonesome out here
I’ve got the middle of the ocean blues

Thankful for a little spit of dry land
Feeling a bit wobbly & out of sorts
Having a nice cold one under a palm
Time to recharge my batteries in this port
Soon enough, we’ll be back floating
Feeling the Earth’s rotation upon this burn
Long days of sweat & toiling work
Wearing my body out before I return

Hey, hey, hey, pretty mama
Please send me some news
It’s lonesome out here
I’ve got the middle of the ocean blues

Transitional Glories Of The Forlorn

Photo by Roberto Nickson on Pexels.com

Transitional glories of the forlorn
Where do we begin to find solace
Ancient cries of those forgiven
Trading a reckoning for eternal bliss

Standing high on a sailor’s mount
Searching for souls in which to confide
A bounty shall be easily & surely lost
Yet remaining steadfast with the coming tide

A Wink from Her To Get My Heart A-Revving

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A wink from her to get my heart a-revving

Her pink negligee hanging below her knee

Soft skin turns into hardened intentions

The promise of a night of debauchery

A bouquet not desired, but a single bloom

Visions of adulation thoroughly taut

I’m rigidly attuned with her frequency

A fine suited man removing a Windsor knot

Fastened to my bedpost; a sailor can surely tie

Settling down with this libertine, methinks

A pretty picture of a delicious woman

Purely polished reflections in my cufflinks

Post coital; passion overflowing this room

Perfection amid people imperfectly real

Precious moments that I’ll never forsake

My woman’s love, allowing me to constantly heal

Picking Up My Girl Along The Way

Picking up my girl 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