She’s Alone

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She’s alone
In spite of all the adoring eyes
Propped firmly on the pedestal
A solitary witness when lust dies

She’s been up there in isolation
The heroine of the bell tower
A slight teeter in her stance
Still defying gravity on the hour

Her alabaster skin shines at night
A chance to quietly & decidedly atone
The decadence of her marble bust
Fingerprints on her heart of stone

Another teary-eyed princess
With a vintage, tarnished crown
Yet, I cannot stop worshipping her
For who’ll catch us, when we all fall down

But from this distance
I cannot properly love her

Transactionally Stealing Poetry From Her Diary

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Transactionally stealing poetry from her diary
Thinking pretty thoughts, my lady crooner
Shedding our shared idealized past
Ravishingly disheveled from another nooner

These things are seldom spoken aloud
Angels sing out; no longer so distant
Breached actions distorting our thoughts
Heartbroken; leaving you feeling resistant

I’m out here worshipping my secular goddess
Looking for quiet now & avoiding unsolicited advice
Passion not always akin to pleasure
Focused to ensure my kisses are nice & precise

Flirting With A Literary-Inclined Woman

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Flirting with a literary-inclined woman
Sitting puzzled by the glances she took
Wondering what’s swirling in her mind
Guessing she’s judging based on my books

Worshiping the lady’s flesh
I am not divine, yet hope she might be
Kissing before daylight, the way we used to
Adjusting to my senses; that I might finally see

Wish Goodbye To Frumpy Politicians

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Wish goodbye to frumpy politicians
& their senile glances
Robber baron approach to public service
After we gave them too many chances

I don’t care for your foreign correspondents
Time to stay home & let the meek be the victors
War machines don’t benefit those who march
Deceit & impropriety measured upon the Richter’s

I don’t understand disdain for fellow humans
I don’t care if you worship in a synagogue or under a steeple
In the end, we’re all God’s children
Here on Earth, we must remember it’s We The People

The World Can Only Hold So Many Poets

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The world can only hold so many poets
Woefully claiming Bukowski as their inspiration
Worshiping a habitual womanizer & drunk
Answering questions with little to no imagination

I’m doing my best to fill up the lines & empty spaces
With these ink splotches spreading upon the page
Distinct notions of what I believe to be right
But I’m only displaying the curmudgeon side of my age

Shove off from those heroes & clip art stick figures
We need fresh voices with an authentic feel
No more grave-robbing stale words & artifacts
We need to release the future & embrace what’s real

My Fetish Is Powerful Women

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My fetish is powerful women
Standing proud in front of a crowd
Holding court with authenticity
Firmly entrenched without having to get loud

Mesmerized by the way she carries herself
Controlling me with a compassionate glance
She’s my incandescent muse
My reason for believing in happenstance

She’s regal without being out of touch
Properly expressing how it feels to be real
But I know she’s never going to give in
No matter our depravities, she will never kneel

Containing the ability to remain soft & lovely
While always making me hard
She can be inconvenient to worship
Not a plot point, won’t let you simply discard

Who am I to say no?
When she asks me to open up for the Queen
I’m the victim of my own volition
But I love it all, if you know what I mean

Stephen Fry

“I am a lover of truth, a worshipper of freedom, a celebrant at the alter of language and purity and tolerance.” – Stephen Fry

Beauty

I love beauty

But never will

I worship it