Stayed Up All Night Trying To Write

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Stayed up all night trying to write
I still can’t get you out of my head
Sleep didn’t come easy this night
Giving anything to only go to bed

The clock ticks past two & three
Knowing there’s nothing I’m going to find
Off dreaming of nothing, where I want to be
Another scotch to still my racing mind

Image by Florian Pircher from Pixabay

Trying To Overcome An Existential Crisis

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Trying to overcome an existential crisis
Harking back to those foundational years
Emerging out of my own wounded shadow
Striving headlong into those ancient fears


Transitionally limping along these days
But my injuries aren’t those to be seen
Nor the stretch marks upon my soul
Yearning for the notion of becoming clean


Throughout it all, forever fond of the Blonde
Woman, hold me close to your breast
Tell me this life is going to be all right
That together, entangled; we’ll always be blessed

It Was A One-Eyed Kind Of Morn

It was a one-eyed kind of morn
With evening’s festivities going awry
I scrawled out all I could remember
Once a gentleman, turned drunken guy

Slight images of a lovely form
Olfactory sparks upon my brain
Sketching the party’s guest list
But no new faces could remain

Racking my skull for a proper memory
Writing down every & each detail
Compiling a list to rediscover
I’m trying to think, but it’s to no avail

A faceless gown with affectionate gloves
Somehow my mind is able to recall
Cognitive fragments begin to linger
Clouded out by last night’s alcohol

Scenes slowly begin to return
I believe we’re out on the dance floor
An embrace of smoldering desire
Yet I couldn’t figure out any more

Scraps of notes spread before me
No identity to place upon the truth
Scant reason to be shy in my search
Basking in honesty of my lapsed youth

Cobwebs have been sparsely lifted
Won’t think of her in the past tense
Her ghostly touch encourages me yet
We shall meet again, I firmly sense

To hold her with determined spirit
Seems fantastical at this sad rate
Yet she’s left fingerprints upon me
Remaining until I succumb to my fate

I’m Trying To Live The Good Life

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I’m trying to live the good life
Exposing my heart, no matter how raw
No need to hide how I’m feeling
Coaxing compassion, so the world might thaw

Standing upright in spite of society
A little shook, but I’m still alive
Move past their hatred & negativity
Within the scope of kindness we’ll thrive

Junky Little Notes

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Junky little notes
Throwaway lines on the postmodern stage
Cultural fragmentation in empty streets
Truth whittled away on an evaporating page


The disillusionment of an appropriated life
While the world’s on fire; downright ablaze
The American Dream sold off to the lowest bidder
Feeling dissociative in these recent raucous days


Our dishonest & unaccountable government
Are trying to sell you their uninspired vision
Trying to sway your vote by gripping your throat
But their cockamamy pleas will be met with only derision

The Sea Villanelle

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A love that’s only known to me
Weigh anchor – Sail with the tide
When I’m off exploring the sea

A lass that’s sassy & steadily free
Couldn’t forget her, Lord knows I tried
A love that’s only known to me

When the winds cry like a Banshee
The ocean will be my endless guide
When I’m off exploring the sea

Venturing off to a land of palm trees
Needing to nurse my wounded pride
A love that’s only known to me

In spite of life, still merely a latchkey
Waiting for when my sails have dried
When I’m off exploring the sea

A pirate – all I ever wanted to be
I’ll forever hold who’s on my side
A love that’s only known to me
When I’m off exploring the sea

I Think You Have The Wrong Notion Of Me

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I think you have the wrong notion of me
I could be wrong, but it’s what I believe
I’m neither the saint nor the villain
In which your notions are trying to achieve

I’m not nearly as arrogant as I portray
That’s merely the manifestation of a fictional role
I know confidence is sexy & I’m trying my best
But I have doubts regarding the quality of the contents of my soul

The Voices Come Calling

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