Disquieted Moments In The Afternoon

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Disquieted moments in the afternoon
These Springtime rays have a golden hour
Reflecting youth into my weary eyes
The reassuring notion of dreampower

Yet gone are the mornings we woke afresh
Our mortal flesh reeling down on Earth
Life; the thorn in the side of this existence
Internal fire requires our souls a wider berth

The slings & arrows shall never fully hinder
For love always eventually finds a way
Darkness cannot extinguish the sun
This truth discovered by the piercing light of day

Headed Downtown For The Literary Type

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Headed downtown for the literary type
Searching for the scribes of our weary day
To heal my heart with words that matter
I’ve tried, but I don’t see any other way

Falling stars may not mean much to you
But I’m here without any expectation or hope
Where do we find our reasons for love
Even we can kill our dreams, given enough rope

Flaming Sauerkraut Stud Muffin

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Flaming sauerkraut stud muffin
A condensed version of radial glory
Knowing full well where life begins
The translucent strands of our story
Calculating Parisian jazz statistics
Veiled through the rummy, filtered grime
Distance equals an unfettered stump
When satisfaction measured in Lycra & time
Logbooks; surmounting the tepid schedule
All aboard the mourning run of the downtown train
Sunrise catching your weary eyes
Early summer rain prepositions our inaugural hurricane

 

 

 

*I was bogged down and couldn’t write so I just started writing nonsense until I was inspired to create something. It is what it is.

I’m Tired, Weary, Fatigued, However You Want To Call It

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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

 

Image by Grae Dickason from Pixabay

Sitting At The Windowsill

Sitting at the windowsill
Fingers stained by my ink
Face red & tranquilly humbled
Cold & tumbled; too frozen to think
The nights are dropping temps
I’ll need to do everything to keep warm
Though I’m unwrapping each layer
Eagerly embracing your gracious form
Life is a fine chance to love you
Trading kisses as I adjust your weary crown
Telling stories of our younger days
& the magic that happened in a little Arizona town

Image by Lou Blazquez from Pixabay

Gimme A Minute Till I Look Pretty

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Gimme a minute till I look pretty
I don’t want to go out there without my cologne
I can’t deal with the sketchy people
You know, they’ve hidden away all the pay phones
I don’t trust the Gov’t hiding behind rain coats
The shadows are weary with their demodulation
Open your windows to the rain – expect justice
I shall bare my raw breast in hopes of emotional rehabilitation

A Cup Of Coffee Sounds Mighty Nice

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

Disturbed Themes & Distant Thrombosis

Disturbed themes & distant thrombosis
A hitch in your giddy-up when it’s time for tea
Transcendental visitations
From dreams may come answers to our makeshift reality

Pouring over the brackish tomes with devotion
Gentlemen & ladies of letters; luminaries of thought
But truth doesn’t cure our limited capacities
Bare harbingers of the illiterations we’ve wrought

We’ve taken ill in our posh-marked libraries
Leaving fingerprints on memories we loved the most
We maunder through our raging debates
Knowing full well they’re all books about ghosts

Darkness creeps in on our musty resolve
Syntax prescribed with an utmost surgical query
Descending by the light of our candelabra
If we survive, we’ll be counted amidst the weary

Surviving By The Bright Light of Day

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Surviving by the bright light of day
Pouring coffee directly into my weary eyes
Can’t sleep at night since I must remain alert
Anxious; trying to hide my soul’s invisible cries
Gathering my wits to merely successfully exist
Waiting for the other shoe to drop & Hell to begin
Tired of cowering away in forgotten silence
Appearing strong since no one sees the enemy within

Anaïs Nin

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“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.”
― Anaïs Nin