There are those who think me boring
There are those who think me droll
But I take all their judgements in stride
For I must stay true to my own soul
Their queries do not make me stir
For I no longer have anything to prove
But you better grip these sheets
Lookin’ lovely, hope you’re ready to move
Wasted my youth, obeyed all the rules
I’m enlightened; I’ve learned with time
These days I may be old & grey
But I’m still better than my prime
Standing naked
In the front window in all my glory
Watching cars pass by in their haste
Hands on my hips – I am the Pan
Maybe not like your bedtime story
Searching for the beauty they tend to waste
Reading the errant pages
Crumpling after each one is read
A gentle eye befallen the paper
Revising what each one has plead
Wastebasket- a lifetime away
Hoping it’s not the destiny of them all
Slowly, sacred thoughts form
Living in the weird space of my scrawl
Watching the paper soak up errant coffee
Spillage; correcting the bland, empty page
Blocked before you wasted the elixir of life
Words summoned now like a pensive sage
Freely letting loose a volley of images
We are released to our new mode of narration
Blinded aesthetics on a crisp winter morning
Forever allowed to remain alive in short bursts of inspiration
Finding ourselves locked in a torrent
Quietly dreaming of a harder way
Searching for the proper inspiration
Perhaps I’ll have something intelligent to say
I’m just a local loser with unlimited potential
Most will note my life has been an utter waste
Mocked & forgotten since you dismiss my face
In retrospect- you pine for my notion once you got a taste
I said hourglass & waste
You thought of our failure at perfection
I thought of time & how it’s ignored
Until it we had no more
Tales of blood & our monsters abound
Another generation of wasted from the hunt
Predator ideology, now just a carcass
Their potential’s talent left along the waterfront
These broken & delayed dreams
Electric toothbrushes that constantly hum
A pocketful of change
& girls with eyes so pretty it makes me dumb
I’m not one to make a great scene
Yet I’m your average middle-aged guy
Not counted among the mundane
I couldn’t be normal, even if I tried
So we’re all stuck in this spinning limbo
A world with mixed up priorities & hate
I’m confused by all this wasted time
One of these days the hourglass will cease to rotate
So, I’m probably going to be late for work
For my beautiful woman resides in this bed
I could be responsible & get there on time
But I’m always going to choose to love instead
Image by Claudio_Scott from Pixabay
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
I don’t need all that chaos
I’m content with simple taste
Up early in the morning
To ensure the day isn’t a waste
A prayer, a pen & a book
Foundations to a solid grin
Society can’t take it from me
In control as the world spins
Trying to find the proper tense
& then his anger rises
Can’t deal with these people
Mirrored statements of all he despises
Simple logic wasted around here
An abyss filled with what they don’t know
Shocking & devastatingly stupid
Then you realize they’re all a show
Captain Q 