Immune To A Power Surge

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Immune to a power surge
I sit alone & quietly type
Not affected by technology
Refuse to be your modern gripe
I switched off my terrestrial radio
But I’ll still pound at these keys
I’m not cool or a trendy guy
I’m reserved, doing as I please
There’s never been an audience
Just a few genuine folks
Sharing myself sparingly
I’m better with these slow strokes
I’ll continue to conjure ideas
Preferring to use my typewriter
Nothing fancy; just a love of words
Old, but I can still pull an all nighter

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Tonight We’re Going To Step On Out

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Tonight we’re going to step on out
Letting the cool breeze touch our souls
Watching the darkness quietly creep in
Holding hands as we take gentle pulls
The whiskey settles into a familiar burn
Nothing remaining but what we are
Excluding the day’s negative traits
Naturally only wearing the glow from the stars

Perhaps I’m A Bit More Prudish

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Perhaps I’m a bit more prudish

Than I ever expected myself to be

Shying away from their exhibitions

Folding my soul back into propriety

Maybe I’m not as cool as you thought

I’m more of a meandering old fellow

Writing out lines of cautious fantasy

Whereas reality reveals itself to be rather mellow

She’s Got That Weirdness Flowing Through Her Veins

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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.

We Want To Be Original, But We’re Stuck

We want to be original, but we’re stuck
Lost in a world where it’s cool to ‘not give a fuck’
But I don’t want to hand down a society devoid
My children deserve more than the lazy & easily annoyed
We need to change our hearts back to something pure
To believe in love, magic & Pixie Dust – I’m sure
The end will be here too soon one of these days
Together, we must show the light & the possible way

I’m A Red-Blooded American

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I’m a red-blooded American
Aroused by red meat & microbrews
I enjoy my lazy suburban days
A swinging hammock; dreams of you
The Great Dane snoring beside me
Hunkered down in the cool green grass
It’s far too hot for movement
I wish you were here to wiggle your ass

Finding A Smile In Anything

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Finding a smile in anything
She laughs in colorful brightness
A flash of pure happy thoughts
The cool confidence in its lightness
A giggle to the approaching Summer
3 months of adventure lie ahead
You’re wanting passive, demure kids
Mine will cackle, make you walk the plank

I’m Not At Your Level Of Cool

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I’m not at your level of cool
I don’t wear sepia filtered tank tops
I don’t own $200 neon wayfarers
I still wear normal, rubber flip flops
I’m not as tied to this world
There’s no room for a brand new Audi
I’d rather turn my focus
Write a little to seduce a delicious Hottie
You can continue to delude yourself
Ignore the life you forgot to mention
But I know what you’re missing
A woman worthy of your time & attention