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We used to know the truth
The fundamentals of our lives Misplaced inspiration in youth We, the lost children, who survived
Abandoned by artists searching for gold
Forgetting the dream of accepting yourself Never admitting we’ve grown this old Rejection of impending imperial wealth
Fuck your republicans & democrats
Those who sold the vision with betrayal Insensitive bastards of a Cheshire Cat Unsteady appeasement & divided we fail
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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
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Life should have more dancing
More twirls, laughs, dips, lifts & general glee We can make anything happen Once she comes home with me
A dream can be a reality if she believes I know the passionate way I would hold her My own heart pumping infinite love Visions of slipping that dress off her shoulders I wish to caress her by candlelight Looking into my eyes, asking for more Whispering all the things she wants Dancing close until our bodies are sore Like this: Like Loading...
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Alone with my thoughts
Shut up in this temporary, two room apartment
Thinking through imagination
Rack my brain to conjure anything Heaven sent
Ink spilled, but nothing to write home about
Languished notions in an attempt at creation
Yet a vision of satire is all that I am
Craving a spark; anything to produce elation Like this: Like Loading...
I’m being teased by the soft pink
Visions held by my fragile mind
Beauty only holds a certain firm
Your words delve until I find
I am strong enough to last
Though you tighten the noose
You know the subtle power
Let us declare a proper truce Like this: Like Loading...
Summer girls/winter women
Refreshing my sullen mind Taste of joyous inspiration Love heightened upon rewind Basking in the light of sunshine Energized by glorious visions The heat dwells deep within Passion rising in absolute precision
mskathrynne from Pixabay Like this: Like Loading...
Finding refuge in my dreams
Traipsing through Baudelaire’s flowers I sing a silent dirge to my soul Tracing her petals within Summer’s shower
Caught in the currents of missteps Former words no longer voiced Lightness of a delicate vision We heard the morning’s rain rejoice
Politely declining a dreadful umbrella Walking out, always been man enough to weep Soaked; tears all the way through Drowning; maybe now the sunset will let me sleep Like this: Like Loading...
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Time to float off into another world
Close your eyes & drift forever away
Within silent storms of a castaway girl
Reimagining visions before finding the day Like this: Like Loading...
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I’m the footnote to your memory
Everyone will remember how you touched their soul I’m just the quiet guy in the background Working hard to help make your vision whole
I’m not the one to be seen nor heard
But to fade away when they extinguish the lights Forgotten once the dream falls to recess Sealed once we find our departing flights
I never wished to distract from you
I humbly serve your silent grace No aim to conjure something more Merely to bask in beautiful refraction of your face Like this: Like Loading...
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Surrounding myself with ancient friends
Wisdom & experiences laid upon my shelf Bare for all to quietly consume Providing a chance for a better version of self
Absorbing past lives without pause
Silhouettes of women from long ago Angst from existential rights in time Visions of dreams I wish to forgo
These books are mere placeholders
For the contents of my heart upon hardwood Gentle reminders of our former intellect & the hope we might return to being good Like this: Like Loading...
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There’s magic in knowing the soul
you cannot live without Is more precious than anything in front of you The inability to cease from a scream or shout
The seas have parted
Allowing visions to reach us within earshot You can only see the beauty of a cherished soul Neither are we perfect, but we’re all we’ve got
Translucence when we slumber
Taken away to the shores of our dreams The impossible comfort of paradise Allowing for beliefs to be more than they seem Like this: Like Loading...
St.Albans Cathedral – Tomb of Saint Alban by Martin Addison is licensed under CC-BY-SA 2.0
The passing of time is a mixed blessing
Tapping your foot with your vision blurred Doing our best, but remaining guilty Still searching for a way to be cured
Wrapping wrists around the tarnished rosary
Youthful dreams faded from when I wanted to be a saint My heart still ticks, albeit a little weaker Remembering those days, but the voices now faint Like this: Like Loading...
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Dreams of pretty dancing girls
Tartan skirts & gold buckles on their shoes
Legs draped in such fine stockings
High kicks, but treasure out of view
The fantasy of a joyous party
Spirited music playing a bit loud
Fiddles & bagpipes; what a scene
You pulled me out of the dense crowd
Beauty of drinking black beer all day
My stature begins to slightly tilt
You quietly asked me for a light
But there’s no pockets in this kilt
Envisioning what the night might bring
Is it possible that you could be this real
Sharing a pint in a secluded corner
A second Guinness is considered a meal Like this: Like Loading...
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Oh, where does our journey end
Or begin, as it so often might seem Futile attempts to erase the past The unknown details of our dreams
The open road panders to a false escape
The mere opportunity to rewrite a sojourn Jesus perambulating with Uncle Walt Debating the path; perchance to learn
Shaky prospects in apportioned time
Manifest destiny teases Ginsburg & Kerouac Further roads leading to ornate wisdom & we keep it concealed out in the back
Thoreau mocking society with his solitude
Knowing alone is the greatest we could ever be Thoughts come to us in gentle waves That perhaps our visions should become the sea
A reinterpretation of westward expansion
Route 66 cross-contaminating Highway 61 All roads have never led us home Emily tempting Death with her life left undone
The growing wisdom of our consumed space
Emerson’s penning pre-revolutionary blues Introducing our souls to unrefined grace The Good Lord providing Her unfiltered muse
Feeble humanity; lost across the tracks
Original sin that we’ve taken on the chin Sifting thought; we might be welcomed again But knock off the Devil’s dust before you come in Like this: Like Loading...
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Liberation granted by the morning alarm
Still alive; this body aching with rippling fatigue
October visions, yet I’m safe from obvious harm
Visions dwindling; remnants of horrific intrigue
Seeking out coffee to loosen this slumber
A stretch & chance to deliberately mourn
These dreams encrusted in burnt umber
Sworn to abide by the wisdom of Nat Hawthorn
The terror that befalls us when we’re unaware
Soon free from the slow tolling of the funeral bell
Needful sleep caught us within a nightmare
Unconsciously breaking from a manufactured hell
Visions of dropping acid with William Blake
Dawn is our escape; returning to peace as we wake Like this: Like Loading...
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! Like this: Like Loading...
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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 Like this: Like Loading...
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Relaxing in my hammock
Feeling the gentle breeze Trying to close my eyes But visions of her tease
My head starts churning My heart begins to race Need to stick the landing Without falling on my face Along the way in I’m shedding all my clothes By her sly smile My beautiful woman already knows Like this: Like Loading...
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Unfolding broken dreams
The distant & diluted flow
Our hopeless choices astound
The truth? We still don’t know
But we can never give up
Clinging to the last of our visions
Memories cultivated on dark nights
Leaving us exposed with obvious incisions
How do you translate a morning
When your soul bears undiagnosed pain
Scars from a life well lived
For in the end, disillusioned cannot remain Like this: Like Loading...
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
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She’s shakin’ those hips
Drivin’ me wild with thirst
If I try to tag along
My mind’ll surly burst
Please loosen my tie
Could I have a slug of wine
If I close my eyes
Could she ever be mine
It’s a delicate inferno
Blazin’ through the night
I find myself dry
Only she’s in my sight
Vision’s gettin’ thick
Consciousness gettin’ deep
My soul to believe
She’s too salacious to sleep
Khusen Rustamov from Pixabay
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The wolves are released & they’re ready to feed
Blindly & ineffectually sharpening their teeth Salivating over the vision of this torn dress Apathy mixed with nothing but pain to bequeath
Comfreak from Pixabay Like this: Like Loading...
She’ll be coming around the mountain
Clinging to youthful visions of equestrians
Yet life is a swift kick to the balls
Leaving one feeling a little more pedestrian
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Swapping Daisy Buchanan for Lady Brett
Dreams & visions traded for a martini glass The swirls of ice resemble their hearts The disappearing notion of the dignified class So we raise a toast for decent luck These three olives constitute her daily menu Dancing off silently out onto the veranda Subtly becoming her own performance venue Like this: Like Loading...
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Life rocks us silently
Rising & falling with the boat Visions held most dear Within these stories I wrote Removed my choice of reality But here I’ll take my stand Firm between the swells With gentle reminders of Neverland Like this: Like Loading...
I’m tired, weary, fatigued, however you want to call it
This world is tearing itself apart, with no end in sight
Neighbors can’t stand the appearance of each other
If we don’t swerve, we’re all going to face the fiery night
Reject hate, reject them, reject the world’s system
I don’t care if kindness long ago went out of fashion
Don’t accept your options, make your own way
We need return to art, return to love & compassion
‘They’ are anyone who’ll tell you we can’t survive
Without stooping down to unconscionable degrees
Rebel, refuse & reclaim enlightenment & love
Lead ourselves away from their dysfunctional societies
God reserves a place in Hell for those who spout hate
Whether you believe in Christ or what Buddha taught
Love doesn’t see the differences between us
We can do better; a peaceful way must be sought
Politicians are no more than door to door salesmen
Fraudulent purveyors of the American dreamscape
But we, the silent underground, emerging each day
Fed up with their vision, proof that heroes don’t wear capes
Grae Dickason from Pixabay Like this: Like Loading...