Sitting Here Dissenting All Forms Of Gov’t

Sitting here dissenting all forms of gov’t
Looking for answers in these coffee grounds
Uncovering more & more hatred, with less hope
These political ovations do nothing but compound

Society has gone astray, Jesus take the wheel
We’re all being watched by a perched black bird
Incoherent shrieks & mumbles of “Nevermore”
Universities stacked with all the quotes they misheard

Where are the heroes to protect democracy of the republic
In the wake of fraudulent saints & a presidential pretender
We must devise a prophecy to overtake our future
Lady Liberty’s hem is ablaze; with no elder statesmen to defend her

We’re led by fools, fractures & frauds
Finding ourselves at crossroads armed like Checkpoint Charlie
History won’t be kind to the weak or evil all the same
Needing a guardian like Justice Ginsburg on a Harley

I’m raising a small army of Lost Girls
Feminist soldiers marching – in all but the name
Seeking love, peace & equality for all the people
Hindering harmony will leave you squarely to blame

We all have our differing loyalties
But truth will prevail when time comes to an end
Our trials will be but mere footnotes to antiquity
Faceless angels guiding youth; they shall forever be a friend

There Are Those Who Think Me Boring

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There are those who think me boring
There are those who think me droll
But I take all their judgements in stride
For I must stay true to my own soul

Their queries do not make me stir
For I no longer have anything to prove
But you better grip these sheets
Lookin’ lovely, hope you’re ready to move

Wasted my youth, obeyed all the rules
I’m enlightened; I’ve learned with time
These days I may be old & grey
But I’m still better than my prime

I’m Not A Joiner

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I’m not a joiner
I’m deliberately choosing not to join your group
Breaking free of these inconsistencies
Past sins & missteps on an endless loop

I inherently distrust any gathering of people
Seeing we’re doomed to live out the follies of youth
We lost our way & never came back
Now spurned forward by the allure of truth

Passing Quietly In The Night

Passing quietly in the night

Unbeknownst to a blind eye

Distractions turning nervous

Youthful visions of a divided sky

Perpetual beauty left ravished

Smudged but steady on course

Redemptions readily available

Without the gale’s full force

Patrolling The Underground Realms

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Patrolling the underground realms
Lifting thought from prepared pages
Easing youth that won’t overwhelm
Knowing craft requires poise upon the stage

The dissidents lining streets in praise
While heroes grow cold, lying in state
Sharpen your pens lads, we rise by days
Attune your focus & we might outlive our fates

Taking Me Back

Taking me back
California nights long ago
Palm lined beaches
The prettiest I know
Youthful charm & bravado
Flirting down by the sea
I’m taken back these days
By the sounds of Social D

It Was A One-Eyed Kind Of Morn

It was a one-eyed kind of morn
With evening’s festivities going awry
I scrawled out all I could remember
Once a gentleman, turned drunken guy

Slight images of a lovely form
Olfactory sparks upon my brain
Sketching the party’s guest list
But no new faces could remain

Racking my skull for a proper memory
Writing down every & each detail
Compiling a list to rediscover
I’m trying to think, but it’s to no avail

A faceless gown with affectionate gloves
Somehow my mind is able to recall
Cognitive fragments begin to linger
Clouded out by last night’s alcohol

Scenes slowly begin to return
I believe we’re out on the dance floor
An embrace of smoldering desire
Yet I couldn’t figure out any more

Scraps of notes spread before me
No identity to place upon the truth
Scant reason to be shy in my search
Basking in honesty of my lapsed youth

Cobwebs have been sparsely lifted
Won’t think of her in the past tense
Her ghostly touch encourages me yet
We shall meet again, I firmly sense

To hold her with determined spirit
Seems fantastical at this sad rate
Yet she’s left fingerprints upon me
Remaining until I succumb to my fate

I’m Getting Old

OMG! I’m getting old
I’m actively searching
For the edited version
Methodically perching
Watching their content
Preserving young minds
Cultivating the innocence
For you can never rewind

 

She’s Not Hurting Anyone

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She’s not hurting anyone
What’s your inherent need to control
Let her be to live her life free
Treating her like there’s no sovereign soul

She’s young, trying to have fun
Release her from your archaic notions
You fear unbridled joy & autonomy
Unable to handle her natural range of emotion

Time to hand the world over to the youth
No need to continue your attempts to entrance
We had our time & we failed miserably
With their fresh blood, we might have a chance

Finding The Energy To Jump Up

 

Finding the energy to jump up
To start the day in the sunshine
Collecting smiles from fresh faces
& always returning to the love that’s mine

Pouring another coffee to revive my soul
The blacker the better; deeper than the sea
Knowing secrets which youth will always deny
That happiness is real & it’s forever free

Nonsense & miscalculations they always spew
For they see glitter & everything they never tried
But experience will tell you simple is better
& anything worth fighting for is kept on the inside

 

Image by Alexander Belyaev from Pixabay

On The Shores Of Ol’ Patagonia

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On the shores of Ol’ Patagonia
While the citizens did sleep
Youthful fear of affection
Yet into the woods, they silently creep

Don’t let on how you feel
For you might get what you want
The pain of admitting you care
& perchance it might forever haunt

The burden of carrying embarrassment
& possibly feeling regret this long
Thy youth’s clear true love
But hindsight tells me I was wrong

For I wasn’t brave enough to trust
Too busy being incorrect by name
Fear welling into my soul
But I loved her all the same

It’s not fair to bring up old times
Immaturity & self-reject are not a virtue
I don’t deserve her thoughts nor sentiments
In the end, never good enough for you

Still thinking of what might’ve been
Or an excuse to freshly misbehave
Angst & teenaged awkwardness
Take a shot & take it all to my grave

The Passing Of Time Is A Mixed Blessing

St.Albans Cathedral – Tomb of Saint Alban by Martin Addison is licensed under CC-BY-SA 2.0

The passing of time is a mixed blessing
Tapping your foot with your vision blurred
Doing our best, but remaining guilty
Still searching for a way to be cured

Wrapping wrists around the tarnished rosary
Youthful dreams faded from when I wanted to be a saint
My heart still ticks, albeit a little weaker
Remembering those days, but the voices now faint

I Don’t Have Pretty Eyes To Attract

I don’t have pretty eyes to attract
Nor a beautiful body to distract
A middle aged, middle class white dude
with no street cred
With charm & gentlemanly conduct
instead
I’ll have to choose the proper words
To prevent from being misheard
Where did our youthful exuberance go
Closed off from a litany of feelings of truth
But I don’t want to be like them
Not worried about a bent halo or tarnished tiara
Angst of foregone conclusions
I want something of substance
Never tamed by society’s expectations
A slow, smoldering strangeness
Embracing the stature of being a little weird
Impervious to judgements of being bland
For through and through, I can only be me
Never standing for someone else’s brand
I hope to always be wild enough to be free

Tamping Out The Excess Inspiration

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Tamping out the excess inspiration
Shake the thoughts loose & free
Don’t care for your learned quips
If they don’t allow me to see

I’m tired of all the accusations
Yet there remains nary any proof
Let us return our quills to the muse
& turn the future over to the youth

Securely Sheltered In Your Castle

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Securely sheltered in your castle
He makes sure you’re secluded
Always firmly safe from all harm
Obviously he’s benignly deluded

The loneliness still quietly invades
The walls upward of 10 feet high
Locks, bolts & your skeleton keys
Helpless against memories of a guy

Your suburban paradise glitters
But you’d rather be alive instead
Perfection laid at your feet, but
The punk of your youth isn’t dead

Our Old & Forgotten Worlds Reflect

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Our old & forgotten worlds reflect
Manifest destiny lost to distant memory
Totems cast to our missing energy
Fleeting virtues laid upon either plea

Our dissipated youth with judgement paid
Never to return; so get out of your own way
Be in this moment, choose positivity
Plan for the future, but be alive today

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

Now That I’m Old…

Now that I’m old, there’s no chance to be cool
I’m that creepy lurker passing the delicates isle
Finding myself lost in nebulous thought
Youth dropping their eyes while I try to smile

You can’t be friendly when you’re a certain age
Somewhere along the line, I missed my cue
Oblivious to the graffiti on the decaying walls
I’m slowly dying, more with each day that’s through

Stuck before I can be the wisened old fellow
Conversations with alter egos as I deliberate
Taunting life with my aggressive apathy
Father Time impatiently waiting for my cryptic fate

A litmus test for fragile character upon my days
Emerging from adulthood with wisdom in my head
Never again a victim to society’s whims
Pushing past expectations; my own hero instead

Rising higher than their own trite requirements
Still not accepted & still the silly old fool
Sketchy, weird & perpetually the outcast
Damn, there went my last chance to finally be cool

I’m Not Going To Forfeit This Life

I’m not going to forfeit this life
Grasping at reality along the way
Running headlong into risk
Finding out what the youth have to say
Nurturing growth & development
Truth remains after their neglected lie
Sweat falls from my brow – a start
We can’t let the dream of freedom die

 

Image by Tibor Janosi Mozes from Pixabay

A Recovering Misogynist

A recovering misogynist
A self-proclaimed one
Terribly stupid in my youth
Thought it was kinda fun
Then I fell for a pretty girl
& sired 3 daughters to boot
Internal character challenged
Forever altered to my roots

She’ll Be Coming Around The Mountain

She’ll be coming around the mountain

Clinging to youthful visions of equestrians

Yet life is a swift kick to the balls

Leaving one feeling a little more pedestrian

Just Because You’re The Inspiration

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Just because you’re the inspiration
Doesn’t mean you’re the intended
Taking what life gives us
Even those not comprehended
Just because you’re the muse
Doesn’t mean you’re the truth
Finding open sores upon the soul
Lingering there since early youth
Just because you’re the source
Doesn’t mean you’re all that real
Gone once my fingers close
You’re merely a ghost my heart can feel

Our Dreams Hold Us Hostage

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Our dreams hold us hostage
Chained to our high ideals
Lost to our intemperate youth
The past reaches out & steals
Time lost to us; never again
What’s forgotten can’t be regained
Our lives are our creation
Figments we’ll never fully explain

Waking Up Before The Sun

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Waking up before the sun
To quietly drink coffee & read
I have this worn & aging body
But a youthful intellect to feed
Take advantage of the still hours
Before the chaos of my daughters
Soon I’ll be tied up like Gulliver
& this coffee won’t get any hotter

I’m Driving Down By The Beach

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I’m driving down by the beach
Radio tuned to Lana Del Rey
Trying to turn back the clock
Warm, salty air to celebrate the day
Looking for a moment to feel alive
To relive the trappings of youth
Ignoring the aches of aging
To deny the inescapable truth

SkyFall

 

It’s not a crime to be pretty
Wearing rented dresses, searching for a breadwinner
Socialites & other plastic people
No redeeming qualities, but she wants to be thinner
Her vagina will accept almost anything
Whether it be dollars, pounds, marks or kroner
A consummate professional at all times
She expects to be well paid for every geriatric boner
You don’t look gift whores in the mouth
Searching for a sugar daddy, anyone will do
Sitting in the bullpen, hoping to get promoted
Waiting to pluck her next victim, how many already gone through
That swath leaving nothing to the imagination
Offended when the whispers mention a gold digger
Everyone can spy those silicone scars
Next time she’ll go a couple of cups bigger
Sucking more than the marrow out of life
She’s trading her youth for money & security
But once tarnished, innocence forever besmirched
Time is constantly magnifying all your impurities
There are certain priorities in this life
A father must keep his daughters off the pole
But something much less discussed nowadays
What do you do once she grew without a soul
This scene is littered with heinous & fickle creatures
Cloaked, it slowly begins to scandalize & appall
Men with large billfolds & absolutely no shame
It’s the current failure of society & they call it Skyfall

 

 

 

*sorry, feeling quite caustic today

Albert Einstein

“I live in that solitude which is painful in youth, but delicious in the years of maturity.”
― Albert Einstein

Oscar Wilde

“I am not young enough to know everything.” – Oscar Wilde