I Want To Taste Your Skin

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I want to taste your skin
I desire to hold your naked form
Our souls exposed & intertwined
With no expectations to ever conform
The comfort of being truly accepted
Worth being compared to the moon & stars
Never asking our hearts to change
Nothing greater than being loved for who we are

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Skyfall

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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
The current failure of society & they call it Skyfall

I’m Tired, Weary, Fatigued, However You Want To Call It

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I’m tired, weary, fatigued, however you want to call it
This world is tearing itself apart, with no end in sight
Neighbors can’t stand the appearance of each other
If we don’t swerve, we’re all going to face the fiery night
Reject hate, reject them, reject the world’s system
I don’t care if kindness long ago went out of fashion
Don’t accept your options, make your own way
We need return to art, return to love & compassion
‘They’ are anyone who’ll tell you we can’t survive
Without stooping down to unconscionable degrees
Rebel, refuse & reclaim enlightenment & love
Lead ourselves away from their dysfunctional societies
God reserves a place in Hell for those who spout hate
Whether you believe in Christ or what Buddha taught
Love doesn’t see the differences between us
We can do better; a peaceful way must be sought
Politicians are no more than door to door salesmen
Fraudulent purveyors of the American dreamscape
But we, the silent underground, emerging each day
Fed up with their vision, proof that heroes don’t wear capes

Fresh Lipstick & Attitude To Match

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Fresh lipstick & attitude to match
The pretty piano player; a punk rockette
The domestic goddess with a need to be clean
Living on the edge of the cosmopolitain set
Hoarding her guilty pleasures fiercely
The moral ambiguity is a stubborn crutch
Ignoring nature’s perfectly placed laws
But she’ll only accept the light’s soft touch
Wearing an evening gown at her elegant leisure
Within her mind, no better way to take a selfie
She’s blunt with her standards & expectations
But lucky for us all, my poems are gluten free

I Try So Hard To Be Positive

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I try so hard to be positive
I try to elude this building hate
The stress & pressures mount
Escaping this forthcoming fate
How do we overcome their frustrations
Without ever accepting any less
The world grinds away at your soul
Which path to find internal success
There must be a concise answer
The route providing unbridled glee
Each day another chance to smile
& take each happiness as a victory

We Have Quiet Inspirations

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We have quiet inspirations

Somber tones you seldom realize

Shifting away from self-imposed

Heartaches & their relayed lies

We must accept the responsibility

Adulting was never part of the plan

Though you gotta make the most of it

Take it from me – Sincerely

                                       The Pan

Thinking You Were A Little Bit Off

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Thinking you were a little bit off
Wishing for the future to materialize
Not wishing to wrap you in their arms
Some not meant for their prying eyes
The status lingering on the walls
Set aside from the accepted chorus
Realization of the ugliness around
Not always a proper moment for us