We’re Doing Our Best

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We’re doing our best
Within the grime of the trenches
Unfathomable hours away
Never enough; turn those wrenches
What about those left at home
Toiling away within lonely hours
Waiting at the foot of the bed
Their hearts slowly turing dour
But we’ll find a way
Surely an answer will come soon
Then we’ll shed these burdens
& return to make our ladies swoon

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Edgar Allan Poe

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“I have no faith in human perfectibility. I think that human exertion will have no appreciable effect upon humanity. Man is now only more active – not more happy – nor more wise, than he was 6000 years ago.”
― Edgar Allan Poe

Smelling Coffee Long Before

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Smelling coffee long before
These tired eyes were ever meant to open
Dreading wakin’ and meetin’ people
No time like now, so here’s to hopin’
The day started & it’s past time to rise
One foot out & eventually the other leg
I’m going to need more of this magic juice
I feel society comin’ at me like the damn plague

 

Image by Mike Kunz from Pixabay

This Is It; This Is Real Life

This is it; this is real life

There’s never going to be more

Unless you ascend into Heaven

Knockin’ on the Lord’s pearly door

This is the time to be compassionate

Now is when you’re supposed to be alive

Nothing else worth waiting to begin

Through love is the only way to truly thrive

Have We Forgotten That We’re A Rebellious People

Have we forgotten that we’re a rebellious people

Cashing checks under a drifter’s pseudonym

But together, we race across time, surviving

Embracing the unity of singing outlawed hymns

Lately, crying about a falsified history

Disillusioned, disappointed, disingenuous

I have no faith in movements and isms

They’re tinged with the superfluous

I believe in honor & service to the people

Treat each as an individual, never a group

Freedom & liberty distilled down to purest forms

Or else, we’ll see this hatred played out in an endless loop

A Fine Suited Man With Terrible Inklings

A fine suited man with terrible inklings

Hands on her shoulders; easy to confide

Pouring drinks & erasing her sadness

Falling by the wayside with time & tide

Beauty is merely a natural configuration

Each button gone, an uncontrollable urge

His intentions told with a silent tongue

Embraced & now they lovingly merge

I’m Doing My Best

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I’m doing my best, can’t you see
Amidst the horrors of modern day
The ghost stories rising in the mind
The times when you’re in your own way
You grab at your head in pain
The frustration of structured expectation
Pressures of their unintended demands
Prompting proclamations of demarcation

Lewis Carroll

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“The time has come, my little friends, to talk of other things

Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings

And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings

Calloo, Callay, come run away / With the cabbages and kings”

– The Walrus

 

I’m A Guy

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Just because I’m a guy
Doesn’t mean I have it made
I’m not sipping Mai Tai’s
Naked in the shade
Burdened by responsibility
With no time for hesitation
Society & a Darwinistic slant
Death by expectation

Perfection Laid Out On Satin Sheets

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Perfection laid out on satin sheets
Beauty dripping away piece by piece
Every dream slipped right through
Life & loss masked by laughing creases
He said you were everything he desired
Burning deep in his soul, but you refused
Moving too fast to stop & notice him
Yet you cry foul, saying you were abused
The sun rises no matter who is pained
Recall broken hearts when you’re the cause
Plump out your pretty pink lips
In the quiet of night, please retract your claws
Calm thyself, you know your own heart
Time to realize you’re the fatal flaw

Perfectly Lined Rows Of Trees

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Perfectly lined rows of trees
Our escape from the mundane
Shaking away tilted visions
Of a ghostly morning train
Remembering her latent beauty
No place for such fickle motions
Return to living your current life
Set gently against the Atlantic Ocean

The John Wayne Type

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I admit I’m not the John Wayne type
I’m not one who wants to fight
Though, I’m not afraid of confrontations
I’d just love rather love my woman by candlelight
I’m a sensitive soul
I’ve been called needy, immature & worse
I just want the time to write of my emotions
Creating a universe into which we’ll fully immerse

A Cup Of Coffee Sounds Mighty Nice

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A cup of coffee sounds mighty nice

Talking away hours in the sun

Warmth after this long cold winter

Experiences overall count as one

Coming times to start all over

No need to hesitate or soften your walk

Forced feelings fall a little short

Take time & measure when you talk

A friend is a friend forever

But be weary as not to injure

Broken hearts never quite heal

Through a loving soul will always endure

The Wind Howling At Midnight

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The wind howling at midnight
Broken windows – open to the outside air
Exposed to the communal by-passer
Her soul had fallen into disrepair
Fatigue & listless emotions manifesting
Immune to careless compliments
Time to pause & regroup her focus
Happiness born from common sense