You might find me boorish
A buffoon with sensibilities from another age
An undereducated hack with perverse interests
Jotting down any ol’ thought on the page
I can be oblivious, sullen & exhausting
Rarely the life of the party, it’s true
You might find me infuriating
But I assure you, my wife does too
Delirium induced by broken memories
Shudders left lacking in female attention
Visions remain long after waking
Thus resulting in fragile retention
Those ministrations forever known
Dusting off the scarred, forbidden plot
When did the journey cease to please
Chained to the past with defective thoughts
Offering up a minimalism
Finding cool without effort
Not weak enough to share
Tough; never going to revert
A mental state removed
Not allowing for them to kill
My soul still beating today
The essence won’t be distilled
Try as you forever might
I won’t be boiled down to a word
No single thought or character
All my expressions slowly heard
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
Theorizing over a second cup
My mind just now beginning to glow
Slowly churning inadvertently
Casually tossing out tidbits I know
Seeing my reflection in the spoon
Greymatter a superior substance though
Probably going to need a third cup
If these thoughts are going to flow
There are answers in the words
Take time to look between the manual scrawl
Feel your body physically push ideas
Deliberate reflection of perfection before the Fall
Hypnotized by the handwritten thought
The slow meditation; pen gripped without pain
Effortless release of mental blocks
To be proud of these scars, but they’re mere ink stains
Delayed motion of her hand
Lost in thought; unable to translate
The slippery notion of time
Within the energy of a tangible fate
Let us remain discrete in our words
She tries to focus as I obnoxiously flirt
Concentrating on writing proper forms
Caught her unaware as I reached up her skirt
Watching the condensation seep into the desk
I think of the glories that have gone away
The ice melting/mixing into my single malt
I’ve been nervous, but I’m okay by the end of the day
These days weren’t the ones we’ve been dreaming of
Idealistic thoughts when we were on foreign shores
Imagining celebrities dancing in their formalwear
Fancy & festive role models displayed forevermore
Upon the big screen & locked into our minds
Americana lost & the golden age of Hollywood
Stoking the passion of our fervid imaginations
Inspiring our dreams like nothing else ever could
Our hopes & desires abandoned & hung out to dry
March realizations our fantasies are mere celluloid
The cold night, withering on the streets alone
Upon the credits, leaving the theater broke & into the void
Waiting patiently for the Muse’s return
A pure idea to refresh the new day
Tepid sips off the scalding coffee urn
Molding a thought to quietly display
Translating emotion; an implicit admission
Each worthy of their own silent moment
Stretching ink in all the right positions
The journey of imagination with delicious intent
Running from street lamp to street lamp
Creating worlds before the sun is born
I don’t sleep as well as I should
Out, wandering with my thoughts this morn
No need to remind me of my missteps
I remember every time I came up short
Angst & anxiety locked in perpetual duel
To discover who gets the final retort
In defense of the outcasts & weirdos
Those strange fellows who demand to be free
Exposing thought & sincerity to open air
To live one’s own life & forever reject conformity
Counting oneself amongst the abnormal
Involuntarily immersed in thought & deed
The action of creating poetic existence
For some days, that might be all we need
Strike up the band, Sweet Lady
I have the feeling we need to dance
Your Southern Charms come calling
& I’m feeling I might get my chance
I’ll compliment your lovely gown
& whisper all my devious thoughts
At the sight of your enticing blush
My nipples grow a little more taut
Hanging with suspicious writers
Not an overly socialized troop
Collectively creating
An emotionally battered group
Pondering word placement
& the value of existence
The quiet utility of thought
Inspiration compounding persistence
I caught you outside in your slip
The gossamer wisps within my view
A ripe side of the ever lovely
I couldn’t help but stare at you
Running through a Summer rain
Racing to the steps of a Victorian porch
Draped in a thin dress of pale tulle
The heavy heart of a burning torch
Amid the seduction of incantations
I knew your illusions were clear
Transparent upon the fresh flesh
& I thought only my intentions were sheer
I always look where no one looks
Trying to see what no one is willing to see
Saturated; glory beyond Heaven’s bounty
I’m out here shooting for immortality
Patrolling the underground realms
Lifting thought from prepared pages
Easing youth that won’t overwhelm
Knowing craft requires poise upon the stage
The dissidents lining streets in praise
While heroes grow cold, lying in state
Sharpen your pens lads, we rise by days
Attune your focus & we might outlive our fates
Taking time to exist in faded dreams
The errant thoughts of a noble mind
Our hands smoothing the stray lines
The margins left blank & us unrefined
Ripped pages scribbled with defaulted hope
We try to emerge from the harrowing sea
But what more can we write about love
The caution of trying to speak of what might be
I’m working on a deliberate sound
Tracking a feeling I’ve never found
Filtering & distilling a final abstract
Like passion was some sort of artifact
They’re still searching for their good luck
Let us dance holes in our old school Chucks
No need to worry about their errant thoughts
Let me strip naked – for I’m kinda hot
With the beat down to your toes
Secrets of my soul, I’ll cautiously expose
On the shores of Ol’ Patagonia
While the citizens did sleep
Youthful fear of affection
Yet into the woods, they silently creep
Don’t let on how you feel
For you might get what you want
The pain of admitting you care
& perchance it might forever haunt
The burden of carrying embarrassment
& possibly feeling regret this long
Thy youth’s clear true love
But hindsight tells me I was wrong
For I wasn’t brave enough to trust
Too busy being incorrect by name
Fear welling into my soul
But I loved her all the same
It’s not fair to bring up old times
Immaturity & self-reject are not a virtue
I don’t deserve her thoughts nor sentiments
In the end, never good enough for you
Still thinking of what might’ve been
Or an excuse to freshly misbehave
Angst & teenaged awkwardness
Take a shot & take it all to my grave
How do we leave the living?
Thoughts on life & what’s left undone
Trampled petals & forgotten scars
Knowing the sun cannot be outrun
How will we be remembered?
Comforted; knowing Jesus saves
Settle into being a compassionate soul
For we all end up wallowing in the grave
Hiding under the guise of tradition
A small man standing atop a pagan tower
Embracing ancient laws full of flaws
From which you exert all your immoral power
In a reversal & dissent from my juvenile thought
I dismiss such thought as stale as Babylon
There’s no place in a progressive society
For mindsets as negative as an electron
I’ve learned a lot in my time here on Earth
Now I know what gets her hotter than Wasabi
It’s as simple as treating women as equals
Instead of deepthroating the code of Hammurabi
Fluttering hearts on a broken trail
Do you know your own soul
Too many nights
Too many sad songs
Your mind sent off balance
Thinking cursed thoughts
Can you cleanse yourself
Any way to be free

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
Disturbed themes & distant thrombosis
A hitch in your giddy-up when it’s time for tea
Transcendental visitations
From dreams may come answers to our makeshift reality
Pouring over the brackish tomes with devotion
Gentlemen & ladies of letters; luminaries of thought
But truth doesn’t cure our limited capacities
Bare harbingers of the illiterations we’ve wrought
We’ve taken ill in our posh-marked libraries
Leaving fingerprints on memories we loved the most
We maunder through our raging debates
Knowing full well they’re all books about ghosts
Darkness creeps in on our musty resolve
Syntax prescribed with an utmost surgical query
Descending by the light of our candelabra
If we survive, we’ll be counted amidst the weary
Collecting fragments of free thought
The missing pieces of a discarded word
Unknown & forgotten loves in innerspace
Unfortunately time reduces us by a third
Intellectuals hunkered down – protecting wisdom
Throwing bones, sharpening knives & wit
Critical theories to counteract
The cultural elite reminding me I ain’t shit
But I continue down my solitary path
Creating worlds out of the persistently intangible
I return- baring all for artistic intent
But alas this vessel’s no Michelangelo
Thought it to be an easy read
Yet the words were hard to digest
Meaning dancing slowly in my mind
Subtly creeping past the singular rest
Retracing lines to navigate ritual
Where do we reform elegant words
Removed from obvious transparency
Heaped among the notorious & absurd
But we can still be returned to normal
Reassembled without any scars of the war
Truth absolved of the fictions we wrote
Back to the pages I quietly implore
Scratching your soul upon the page
Following the seams beyond the thread
I don’t have the caffeinated gumption
So I’ll have to return to bed instead
Wandering through woven stories in my mind
Nib to paper is the only way I can meditate
Urgency of thought keeps me from sleep
Back to brewing; morning’s way to self-medicate
Tamping out the excess inspiration
Shake the thoughts loose & free
Don’t care for your learned quips
If they don’t allow me to see
I’m tired of all the accusations
Yet there remains nary any proof
Let us return our quills to the muse
& turn the future over to the youth
I can’t write with this cluttered mind
Too many tabs pulling at my attention
Structures of thought too often recede
Failing me when I most need comprehension
I’m tired of dreaming of the love I want
I’m tired of writing peace line by line
Where do we find a comforting solace
Lasting longer than the crystals of winter sunshine
Looking for a new sunshine
Eclipses as the morning grows
Coffee slowly loses its warmth
The way only the fatigued might know
Sleepless nights convort to visions
Dreams well placed into our eyes
Caffeine not enough to shake souls
Waking to these cotton candy skies
Spinning my empty cup on the table
Attempts at any fully formed thought
My mind completely wiped clean
I spy my woman’s naked form; damn she’s hot!
Erratic rumblings first thing in the morning
Thoughts all aglow from castiron candlesticks
Sunrise hasn’t interrupted my intercession
Another cup of coffee might ease my ticks
After watching too many hectic movie scenes
A set of expectations upon our furrowed brow
But I need to recede into my own soul
Let us return to existing in the here & now
You’re happiest when spooning a salted bourbon
& I’m certainly not one to overtly judge
But I’m at a crossroads in this life
From that woman; my heart defiantly won’t budge
The walls closing in
Pressure squeezing my thoughts
Expectations no longer exist
Expired potential is all I’ve got
I’m trying to survive
In spite of all this turmoil
A slight focus on my life
Confirming my soul won’t spoil
Upon awaking
I find my face littered with pixie dust
With no possibilities of faking
I’ve been visiting paradise, I trust
Off chasing adventure in the streams
& you thought I fell asleep on my book
Neverland is not only in my dreams
But these scars caused clearly by a hook
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
I love what’s feminine for its own beautiful sake
Walking out into Mother Nature & breathing in Earth
I’m collecting thoughts & addicted to smiling
A deliberate course to truly live ever since my birth
Feeling the distinct notion of life’s pulse
To emerge from here unbroken & mostly unscathed
To seek out joy & embrace hope where it lives
A stroll in pure sunshine; to be regeneratively bathed
No longer shall I listen to competing voices
I’m going to soak up compassion until I’m through
Outside of the distractions, I’ll grow softer
Finding contentment admits love’s eternal residue
Fates & folly everlasting
Without courage to proceed
A beautiful lady
Measuring thought & deed
But she just wanted my heart
No matter the complications
I couldn’t view the reality
Of her love without reservations
Perhaps I’m a bit more prudish
Than I ever expected myself to be
Shying away from their exhibitions
Folding my soul back into propriety
Maybe I’m not as cool as you thought
I’m more of a meandering old fellow
Writing out lines of cautious fantasy
Whereas reality reveals itself to be rather mellow
I often catch myself
Glancing up at your windowpane
Occasionally seeing a silhouette
Memories of youth still remain
Possibly spying a lacy chemise
But now you’re wearing the curtains
Or maybe there was nothing on
But I couldn’t know for certain
The morning light not quite seen
I might feel like a common creeper
Alternate lifetimes in my mind
Yet I know you’d still be a keeper
I see your beautiful soul hiding
That passionate soul now a mere outline
Locked away in your precious life
I’m sure you’d say you’re ‘doing fine’
Possibly spying a lacy chemise
But now you’re wearing the curtains
Or maybe there was nothing
But I couldn’t know for certain
I see boundaries in your thought
I’m not intending to be rude
You can make your own decisions
I don’t wish to trespass nor intrude
You’re the princess in your castle
Not a figment of my invention
Locked eyes before you look away
Somehow grateful for the attention
The government wants to lock me up
For I don’t fit into their diabolic plan
Turning society into robotic morons
I just can’t continue to work for The Man
Trying to sell us artificial stimulants
Fickle airwaves that their bully pulpit bought
Falsified histories & professional victims
The system wipes us away without any thought
Pharmaceutical conglomerates tell us
Conscience is a personality disorder we can’t shake
Turning our daughters into Stepford Wives
Stealing our minds – hoping we’ll never wake
Corporations in league with the dolt on the throne
Continuously embarrassing the whole of humankind
Whose agenda has a limited number of characters
How the hell is this the best choice we could find
But I won’t succumb to any of their devices
I’ll take my liberty and the happiness I’ve pursued
Rejecting the crooks & ignoring their feigned power
Won’t find me in Nurse Rachet’s line; docile & queued
I can’t live a life that’s so blatantly false & empty
My soul is no longer pristine, but I’m an honest guy
I’m taking to the wilderness; leaving the State behind
I’m trading their promises for a more natural high
The slightest thought of you
Makes me squirm in my seat
Passion boiling until its true
Creation ignites under sheets
I know you’re checking out your flaws
Standing at the mirror, counting imperfections
Negative thoughts like these rather gnaw
So I’m offering up thorough inspections
It’s best to take it slow around curves
Haste would be such an utter waste
Wanting you to feel it in each of your nerves
This examination shall be conducted by touch & taste
Which distance
Our beliefs corresponding
What strain
Our thoughts absconding
Taking the time to reason,
Ponder & contemplate
Our combined future
Viewed as a delicious fate
Poseurs, pacifists & poets reek
Sitting high on a lifeguard shack
Nighttime cloaked down upon us
Words in darkness never taken back
Ocean waves break the silence tonight
Only our thoughts to be heard otherwise
Isolation not what you thought it’d be
Tearing out your incessant broken eyes
Midnight sounds to be held on tight
A swim where you can never return
A fatigue to be felt deep down
Love exposed to moonlight will forever burn
Wilting roses by the fireside
Coffee warming bones chilled from the boat
Drifting thoughts to stagnant memories
Thawing words from poems you never wrote
Our private thoughts remain unimpeded
Keeping the ghost light on those theater steps
Daily life can become a sullen drudgery
Yet still remembering when my heart last leapt
Now that I’m old, there’s no chance to be cool
I’m that creepy lurker passing the delicates isle
Finding myself lost in nebulous thought
Youth dropping their eyes while I try to smile
You can’t be friendly when you’re a certain age
Somewhere along the line, I missed my cue
Oblivious to the graffiti on the decaying walls
I’m slowly dying, more with each day that’s through
Stuck before I can be the wisened old fellow
Conversations with alter egos as I deliberate
Taunting life with my aggressive apathy
Father Time impatiently waiting for my cryptic fate
A litmus test for fragile character upon my days
Emerging from adulthood with wisdom in my head
Never again a victim to society’s whims
Pushing past expectations; my own hero instead
Rising higher than their own trite requirements
Still not accepted & still the silly old fool
Sketchy, weird & perpetually the outcast
Damn, there went my last chance to finally be cool
Blue skies are returning
We’re running headlong into Spring
Shake out all these Winter cobwebs
Let the sunshine wake my soul to sing
The flowers are returning to the earth
Seasons change and its turning warm
Let’s smile as we head outside
Time to stretch out your glorious form
Your dress looks lovely upon your skin
Alas, its time to remove some of these clothes
Let them fall away with Wintertime sadness
A blessing of rising mercury, Heaven knows
My thoughts are strikingly inappropriate
I suggest we blame it on this stifling heatwave
We’re in need of getting into the fresh air
To be free and once again unabashedly misbehave
A recovering misogynist
A self-proclaimed one
Terribly stupid in my youth
Thought it was kinda fun
Then I fell for a pretty girl
& sired 3 daughters to boot
Internal character challenged
Forever altered to my roots
The voices come calling
Like shattered visitors in the night
Darkness expunged within thought
Auditioning words; trying to get it right
Vapid orations coming from the podium
Stacks of the wrong books & loose leaf notes
The dumbing down makes a tedious existence
But ideas are the traditional spark of an antidote
Spontaneous inspiration upon my mind
Late evenings marked by dipping skies
Finding paper to seal away thought
Mesmerized with the way the ink dries
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
You stand there aghast
I smile with arched eyebrows
What’s the matter, Lady
But all you can say is “wow”
Letting the thought marinate
You begin your quiet pleas
My smile just widens
I can tell you’re weak in the knees
Only loyal to the dead
Keeping faith with those gone before
Thoughts hard to shake loose
My left foot dragging on the floor
What did I drink last night
Her voice pounding in my head
Regret fills me from within
I know I should have drank water instead
I saw the sparkle in your eyes
Knowing you the way I do
I hurried to put the girls in bed
Desiring quality time with you
Losing my shirt on my way
Growing excited with only thought
Tonight I’m about to be your prey
I’m trying to easily get caught
Those words come to me in those coffee dreams
A spontaneous marvel of literary delight
There’s a difference between manufactured beauty
& a real beauty, founded by nature’s authentic right
But I can’t explain the nuances with the definition
I’m not one to judge such subjective whims
Focusing on my own qualms & dangling thoughts
Let us sit, pour another cup, let’s solve these problems
I’m not bothered by such trifling issues as rules
Let them worry about my intents & being misconstrued
I let my chosen pages explain all I’m willing to
I’m more concerned if that pot has finished it’s brew
“They thought I was a Surrealist, but I wasn’t. I never painted dreams. I painted my own reality.” – Frida Kahlo
Image by Jinali Parikh from Pixabay
Captain Q 