A Picture Postcard Perfect Appearance

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A picture postcard perfect appearance
Modest, yet smoldering beauty beneath
A festive spirit expounding – Winter’s tales
Out singing carols & hanging a wreath
But once you come home for the day
Put on those hooker lips & pirate boots
Time to release your animalistic desire
Tired of being demure & a little too cute

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Where Do We Keep Our Secrets

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Where do we keep our secrets
The ones we can never use
Buried beneath lost hopes
But you can’t choose your muse
The beautiful bleeding hearts
Or scantily-clad ladies; so demure
Inspiration reigning down upon us
Souls perform best when the soul is pure

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

Pouring The Last Drop In The Bottle

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Pouring the last drop in the bottle
Lost in the old rusted radiator’s hum
Not every morning is lonely as this
Wondering when your love is going to come
The cigarette smoke is trying to kill me
No longer going to sit back cold & demure
Nothing left from when we were famous
She’d give anything for life to be as it were

Hanging With Beach Bums & Bashful Babes

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Hanging with beach bums & bashful babes

Swimming in the surf on late Spring days

Colorful flavors poured gently over ice

Skin glowing after hours in the pleasant rays

I thought I saw a Sea Hag along the sand

Though she revealed herself to be a Siren

Coaxing & teasing me with her demure allure

Whispering that I might be a modern Lord Byron

Uncomfortable with compliments of any sort

I quietly pull out my pen to jot down an ode

Her eyes grow wide, then a smirk & a wink

Simultaneously my mind, heart & loins explode

This Head Won’t Be Controlled

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This head won’t be controlled
There’s no way you can tame
Wild by its very nature
Sweet by any other name
Don’t judge me, lady
Savage, feral & barbaric for sure
My words might be, but my
Hair’s anything but demure