Not To Keep Returning The Subject To Myself

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Not to keep returning the subject to myself
But there are certain truths I must understand
I’m no one special, a mere footnote
A history to be written, though not as planned

Dreams & hopes that never came to be
A rakish poet nor grizzled old typesetter
Through the years & false daily realities
It is inexplicable the mundane became better

So I find myself with a specific freedom
To be able to move without any sort of cosmic retort
For I have faith in love, fate & ultimate grace
Allowed to live without any innate need to stop short

I Need To Escape The City Structure

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I need to escape the city structure
Retreat to a cabin up in the woods
Resolving quiet bouts of sensory overload
No longer at peace in these neighborhoods

Trying to exist without the constant ruckus
I may be no more than a sheep in wolf’s clothing
But I know I need something a bit tamer
To quell these times of depreciation & self-loathing

Times get weird; we must remain in our morals
Eventually we must draw a line in the sand
& to misquote the philosopher Chris Rock
I’m not saying the Unabomber was right, but I understand

Hands Out Of Your Pockets

 

Get those hands out of your pockets
& love someone
Spread flirtatious innuendos so she’ll firmly understand
Whispers roll off my lips upon naked skin in the sun
& she knows this passion is worth all the misplaced sand

 

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Sitting Here At The End Of The World

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Sitting here at the end of the world
Running my fingers through the sand
Watching the weight of the waves
Finally time is a theory I can understand

Stripped down without societal guilt
Seeking answers down along the shore
Confused it took me all these years
Yet, that doesn’t mean there isn’t still more

Wish Goodbye To Frumpy Politicians

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Wish goodbye to frumpy politicians
& their senile glances
Robber baron approach to public service
After we gave them too many chances

I don’t care for your foreign correspondents
Time to stay home & let the meek be the victors
War machines don’t benefit those who march
Deceit & impropriety measured upon the Richter’s

I don’t understand disdain for fellow humans
I don’t care if you worship in a synagogue or under a steeple
In the end, we’re all God’s children
Here on Earth, we must remember it’s We The People

I Know Exactly What I Want

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I know exactly what I want
She tells me I’m a lurid temptation
But she eagerly kisses me back
We’re creating a whole new sensation

The only lover my forever will ever know
Doesn’t matter if you can’t understand
Together, we’re damn near perfect
& she sure feels good in my hands

Can We Puncture Our Transcendent Eyes

Can we puncture our transcendent eyes
Feeling fantasies no one can understand
Trapped behind responsibility & expectation
Failing to grasp foundations as we planned

The difference in our souls transmit
Expounded by the beatings of our hearts
Revolutions begin when the cerebral are tired
But their might will never sever our parts

You cannot be weak if you’re truly weird
There’s no time for the molecules to rearrange
These burdens of an unimaginative society
Simply cannot fathom the depth of how you’re strange

It Is Not A Sin

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It is not a sin, no matter what they say
For love triumph over all — beyond how we explain
For truth is greater than words
Thus loyalty & devotion shall forever remain

I’m not worried what the preacher says
For he doesn’t understand our match
Too ancient to grasp our harmonization
He has his own itch he can’t scratch

All that matters is how we feel inside
True love is not a notion they can reject
Our bodies & souls eternally intertwined
Upon a higher calling our passion connects

Just Let Her Run

Just let her run
Don’t be the one to impede
Get the hell out of her way
Respect will always supersede

You don’t have to understand
Try to support whatever she chooses
Be present in her life
& kiss away the inevitable bruises

Image by skeeze from Pixabay

Fatigue Hitting My Bleary Eyes

Fatigue hitting my bleary eyes
Another night upon the flight deck
Needing a shower & my rack
A nation’s burden around my neck

Chocks & chains in the pouring rain
Undeterred from the mission at hand
Endless hours like every sailor before
So few remaining will ever understand

Listening To Wollstonecraft On The Radio

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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

Don’t Tell Them The Bad Things

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Don’t tell them the bad things
For they’ll never understand
Unfair portraits of emotion
Feeling adrift & wholly damned
Hopelessness internalized
It is a matter for us to resolve
Into the trenches to survive
With only love to absolve

Stepping Out Into The Light

 

Stepping out into the light
My eyes can’t adjust to the sunshine
Night left me with nary a sleep
Stumblin’ home to all that’s still mine
Life comes at you hard & fast on the inside
Wondering when the pitches stopped comin’ in underhand
Won’t wallow in misery nor memory of elsewhere’s joy
These speeches fail to convey truth I can’t understand
Where do we go to return to the proper roads
Did I miss the signal for the game to truly begin
I’m old these days; confused by angles & trajectories
Yet I can still & once again wipe myself clear of my sin