Starting the morning in the big chair
Listening to train sounds on the record
From dad’s vintage vault
Drinking black coffee
Looking out the window
At the silence down the street
What shall we make of this day?
Starting The Morning In The Big Chair
window
Cooler Temps Mark The New Day
Cooler temps mark the new day
Fresh air behind God’s wrath
An eerie calm now remains
Watching quietly in the aftermath
Peeking out the windows
Nervous in the hours after the winds blew
Pressure & fear have dropped
I’ll do anything to hold onto you
Gimme A Minute Till I Look Pretty
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
Standing Naked
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
Waking Early Before The Morning

Waking early before the morning
Monitoring the world, as I sip my achromatic brew
The front window, my porthole to beyond
From this security, I decipher what is true
I try to formulate tangible creations
Converting inspiration into mere words
Observations from my suburban perch
Sharing stories with Poe’s bleak-hued bird
Writing down the secrets she might share
Enlivening my dreams on this quiet block
Churning thoughts into hopeful spools
In which might allow my mind to dynamically unlock
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
Passion Failing All Around Me
Passion failing all around me
We’re all exposed on the battleground
Hearts breaking wide open
Sketchy footing, leaving the night unsound
Cautiously looking out into the world
I’m safely behind doors & my windowpane
A vicious society who always destroys
Forcing love to wither & die in vain
Cherishing the woman I’ll forever desire
Who wears my great-grandmother’s ring
Upon us to ensure it doesn’t happen here
With her in my arms, I’ll always I’ll cling
Summer Mornings; Rising Without The Alarm
Summer mornings; rising without the alarm
Open the windows while we’re still in the shade
God’s fresh air can’t do any lasting harm
Yet, snuggle up close; no sense in letting this warmth fade
Waiting For Lightning To Strike
Waiting for lightning to strike
Within these summer storms
I’ve found a good woman
Her love keeps me nice & warm
No need to venture out there
For then we’d need to find clothes
I’m content right where I am
Watching everything from my bedroom windows
Once Upon A Suburban Street
Once upon a suburban street
Where we lived, loved & laughed
Summer comes early in Jax
So, this house no longer has a draft
Warmth lets me resume my natural being
Yet windows aren’t doors; they’re see-through
I strut along, giving my neighbors
A bit more than a casual view
Captain Q 