Dreams Of Pretty Dancing Girls



Dreams of pretty dancing girls
Tartan skirts & gold buckles on their shoes
Legs draped in such fine stockings
High kicks, but treasure out of view
The fantasy of a joyous party
Spirited music playing a bit loud
Fiddles & bagpipes; what a scene
You pulled me out of the dense crowd
Beauty of drinking black beer all day
My stature begins to slightly tilt
You quietly asked me for a light
But there’s no pockets in this kilt
Envisioning what the night might bring
Is it possible that you could be this real
Sharing a pint in a secluded corner
A second Guinness is considered a meal


  • I know I just published this last fall…

Walking Down The Street On All Saints Day






Walking down the street on All Saints Day
Victrolas on display at the corner store
Aflirtatious greeting with the local beauty
She always smiles, but never asks for more
You’ve created another aura within her
Casting her a red-blooded in your pulp fantasy
A polite lady with those vicious high heels
Mental interludes without consent, it seems to me
Take your dreams & exit stage left
You tried to court &failed, life’s not fair
Let a true gentleman whisper elegant words
She’ll open up her passion, exposing her silky pair

The Truth About Women’s Feet


Love wrapped around my mind like a shroud

Full of colors, spectrums & radiant splashes

Not a day without engulfing sunshine

Blinded by pantyhose & false eyelashes

I believed in the fairytale courtships

Sipping champagne from glass slippers

Lovely damsels in need of gentlemen

Revealed to be crude strumpet strippers

My soul could not take this detail

Where was my love with elegant class

Distraught in this new reality

Stuck on feet made for crystal glass

How could my dreams unravel so

This giving me pause to think

Now I understand the truth

That women’s feet actually stink


You Flirt





You flirt with me & my pretty words
& for that I humbly give eternal thanks
You’re the most beautiful soul I ever heard
Good thing the interweb doesn’t reveal my man-Spanx


I Often Catch Myself




I often catch myself
Glancing up at your windowpane
Occasionally seeing your silhouette
Memories of youth still remain

Possibly spying a lacy chemise
But now you’re wearing the curtains
Or maybe there was nothing on
But I couldn’t know for certain

The morning light not quite seen
I might feel like a common creeper
Alternate lifetimes in my mind
Yet I still know you’d be a keeper
I see your beautiful soul hiding
A passionate soul now a mere outline
Locked away in your precious life
I’m sure you’d say you’re doing fine

Possibly spying a lacy chemise
But now you’re wearing the curtains
Or maybe there was nothing
But I couldn’t know for certain

I see boundaries in your thought
I’m not intending to be rude
You can make your own decisions
I don’t wish to trespass nor intrude
You’re the princess in your castle
Not a figment of my invention
Locked eyes before you looked away
Somehow grateful for the attention


You Don’t Think You’re Beautiful

You don’t think you’re beautiful
Because of the pain you feel inside
Existence finds itself with a teetering lull
The path to happiness merely not identified
But you need to write your own dreams
Never settle for what others might demand
Seek out adventure & self-discovery
Find the surprising beauty of the unplanned



A Fine Suited Man With Terrible Inklings




A fine suited man with terrible inklings
Hands on her shoulders; easy to confide
Pouring drinks & erasing her sadness
Falling by the wayside with time & tide
Beauty is merely a natural configuration
Each button gone, an uncontrollable urge
His intentions told with a silent tongue
Embraced & now they lovingly merge


False Attempts At The Old Scottish Jig


False attempts at the old Scottish jig
Distant past lingering – nothing wise
She was never the heroine you always needed
Finally gave up after all those tries
Beauty’s eye was never truly blind
Having been lied to, left you distraught
Perpetual cycles now cold & mean
Never the quality you had always thought
Smile inward, you are the crowned victor
Playing their game with the cards dealt
Karma worms its way into a deserving soul
They’ll never know how your true love felt


A Goddess In The Rising Wind


A goddess in the rising wind
Her loose dress blowing free
A majestic form hinted
Euphoric images come to me
I’m in awe of her beauty
A natural wonder beheld
The simple appreciation
Leaving me robust & swelled


She’s Got That Weirdness Flowing Through Her Veins


She’s got that weirdness flowing through her veins
She’s got that funk in her domain
She’s got the brains that I admire
& the beauty that I desire
Everything she does is a tad bit funky
I want to be the fellow with her one key
I want to be the one to love her
& have it returned to me and no other
I can tell she is one of a kind
& I can’t seem to get her out of my mind
But that’s cool with me
She’s an image I love to see
When I look at her, I see there’s a freak inside
You never know what will happen until you’ve tried

*this is an old poem from the 90’s. I’m not claiming it’s any good. I just like it.