I do not have the weight of fading beauty
I was never handed that cross to bear
I will dissipate into the darkness
With few knowing I’m no longer there
But she feels the pain of time
Thinking a curse as we continue to age
The anguish of remaining alive
Yet each new dawn is another blank page
Evading their ongoing tragedies
Forty summers spent down in the dirt
Withstanding the weight of apocalypse
Emerging; though slightly less overt
Blast furnace of the afternoon sun
Dali walking barefoot on Tampa’s shores
Pale riders within unabsorbed light
Embracing purity through perception’s doors
The paint of our secret love notes
But can only be read through the keyhole
Shying away from all public renditions
Her passionate words left imprinted on my soul
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
Working on this beach bod
Lived my whole life up in my head
Trying to become something lovable
Society left me mostly ignored instead
Attempts to create an unique existence
Purging the dreadful; want something more
An authentic soul bent on sincerity
Giving you my all, but you’d rather have Thor
I can’t be anything that I’m not
I’m lifting weight, going for a run
Never listen to what a fool transcends
Getting old is not any fun
Weight of the world
Falling on my shoulders
Rising early to attack the day
Another coffee – going to need to grow bolder
The stress that defines life
The mess that we’ve made
Perception fades to black
Succumbed to the frustrations we’ve displayed
Sympathetic to Atlas’ condemnation
Understanding his modern fate
Premonition this load might explode
Knowing somehow I’ll eventually drop this weight
Picking out tunes from a lost childhood
Icons from an isolated life; memories fleeting
Can’t keep track of my overblown tragedies
My own imagination responsible for these beatings
My past is a weight, tugging at my fragile soul
Written missives, but she flew off to Ontario
Shunning my offerings for a comprehensive life
I speak of love, but she merely turns up the stereo
These are dreary days
With swamp fog descending upon us
I’m not one to shift blame
Knowing the weight of a day’s jaundice
Another coffee is not going to save us
Nor cause the inevitable doom
So let us pour a cup of darkness
In defiance of such obvious gloom
Transparent dresses hanging in the mud room
Saran-Wrapped for mild protection
Eyes closed to foreign tales
Tempered thoughts of stifled affection
Painted prose with regurgitated eyes
Our dreams left choking on the floor
Scribbling beliefs with thick gouges
Manufactured truth with cries of Nevermore
Redundant weight of classical heroes
Forcing us into bastardized Groupthink
Yet my mind still wanders to her opaque passion
Chasing her dragon with endless ink
I went for a walk in the predawn hours
I could feel something wasn’t quite right
’Twas a red sky morning/sailor take warning
Amiss; something’s gone bump in the night
There was a time I went walking in the woods
Fatigued; this existence has become too tense
It was there I encountered the damned zombies
They stole my peace along with my sensibility & sense
Now, I don’t do much walking outside of the wire
If I must, I seek protection from my Heavenly Lord
I never fail to bring along a prayer upon my lips
& in my hand the weight & might of the Wu-Tang sword
*found this graffiti in Wilhelmshaven, Germany in 2017
Digital Me
Finally found a way to be unplugged
The weight of society
Instead we just shrugged
Allowing that energy to drain
The emotion poured in the blog
A little rusty these days
Always happier when I run in analog
Captain Q 