Sheets & reams of the nonsensical Literary blood lost in the shadow of ink The lifeforce of a simmering soul Marginal hearts writing love against the kitchen sink
Leaving behind the caricature of an artist Contributions to society felt in these empty sheets Fingersmudges marking pages not so white Starkly exposed with revolutionary words in the streets
Traces of hereditary ideals eroding away Igniting pages shall still be a stilted sin Yet we rise again from our desert floor Eternally grateful our finite letters aren’t porcelain
I trace your lips with my finger Such pouty perfection in this face I want to devour you right here But in public is not the proper place So I whisper one word: “tonight” & let you think upon that all day You’ll stew & simmer & imagine How all this love will be conveyed
I’m gonna wipe this life down with bleach My words deconstructing Samson’s beams While I slowly & deliberately devour your peach Alas, you discovered too late I was the man of your dreams
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
Discounting the overland wages
Discarded notions of an empty word
Dripping coffee on innocently blank pages
Drudging toward all the invocations misheard
Collecting fragments of free thought
The missing pieces of a discarded word
Unknown & forgotten loves in innerspace
Unfortunately time reduces us by a third
Intellectuals hunkered down – protecting wisdom
Throwing bones, sharpening knives & wit
Critical theories to counteract
The cultural elite reminding me I ain’t shit
But I continue down my solitary path
Creating worlds out of the persistently intangible
I return- baring all for artistic intent
But alas this vessel’s no Michelangelo
Telling stories after dark Occasionally with Tom Waits in the lead Fantastical little allegories Bringing a light to those souls in need
No need to whisper in the shadows Luminous words to prepare the way Removing barriers to our enlightenment Witticisms fleshed out & on display
Short tales to get creative juices flowing Harking back to dreams that we might meet Subtle differences between the pauses Allowing our imaginations to properly greet
Scenes from our own round table Foreplay within our cheeky banter Conjuring visions of a keen passion Diluted memories at the bottom of our decanter
Bad behavior leads to a more examined life Though through fiction we can live eternal A little more sensitive than you want to believe Yearning to be held by a beautiful dame so maternal
Out here with our hearts raised to the sky Searching for better answers on the midnight shore With the freedom to imagine wisdom laid bare Parsed theories for when we sent them off to war
Subtle manipulation within our romantic esthetics Unreliable narrators marching; our literary brigade There’s no vernacular for hearts’ folly Pushing forth our gentle notion love might persuade
In the end, dear friends, our parable is contrite In this heinous world, we all have a simple choice I lay myself to slumber, a fatigued sailor Wishing for a lullaby coming from Nick Cave’s voice
Word by structured word Searching for concrete textuality She dropped her handkerchief coyly Never again to forget her sexuality
Her head thrown back in a laugh What makes her heart quicken its beat I’m pacing – racking my distracted brain Inspired to write, I hasten to take a seat
It’s always been my nature to resist Not sputtering words as an endless trope Never trusting anything popular nor cool The outcasts & rejects are who give me hope
The man has you grinding away The organ makes the monkey dance You’re looking for the Promised Land But you never really had the chance
You’re writing your soul on the page Friends support & love all they heard But the critics cry foul & laugh bitterly You’re only as good as your last word
Great American notebook Time to add our verse Or merely help to tread water While we all survive Ringing the ship’s bell Putting on warm tunes Honing the proper words To elevate our voice
Rubbing their fingers over the stereo knob The frequencies distorted on the airwaves Kings of the new world & thus apocalyptic Searching for something more pragmatic to crave
These technocrats with no concept of reality Tasking – without offering an alternate fate Demanding citizens for homages to be digital With no power to control – or else we attenuate
Words of peace have the chance to amplify Even when we’re feeling out of time/out of sync Don’t need their fiber optic lies to survive A blind man loses all when forced to blink
Tapping into a passion without any circuits Our transistors are live; we’re lovers thus discrete There’s no stopping us when their signal’s weak There’s nothing but fire & sparks when our wires meet
This life is forever altered now we’re here Do not attempt to adjust the squelch You’re listening to Radio Free America Standing proud & robust like Raquel Welch
Empty wine bottles clink; devoid of all inspiration
But that’s not the way you remembered they bled
Choosing the perfect wording for posterity
A trembling shadow of what the poets once said
We once set out to create a fresh universe
But that’s not the way I can any longer think
Falling in love with strange, beautiful women
The source & reason for all the dedicated ink
Our souls entwined in deliberate communion
But that’s not the way that I came to be lost
Specific writings to engrave our cosmic lust
Forever entombed within this highland frost
I may not be everything But I’ll always try to be Your lover, friend & accomplice Peter Pan of the high seas My flaws are mighty Though I’ll forever be true You have my word & my heart I’ll always be in love with you