Hanging With Suspicious Writers

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Hanging with suspicious writers

An overly socialized troop

Collectively creating

An emotionally battered group

Pondering word placement

& the value of existence

The quiet utility of thought

Inspiration compounding persistence

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I’d Trade All These Gold Doubloons

 

 

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I’d trade all these gold doubloons

For another morning with you

Tasting your sweet nectar

Inspiring the day to be fresh & new

I don’t want fame nor glory

I just want to be naked under the covers

Satisfying & emotionally preparing you

Sending you out into the world; a happy lover

Gimme A Minute Till I Look Pretty

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Gimme a minute till I look pretty
I don’t want to go out there without my cologne
I can’t deal with the sketchy people
You know, they’ve hidden away all the pay phones
I don’t trust the Gov’t hiding behind rain coats
The shadows are weary with their demodulation
Open your windows to the rain – expect justice
I shall bare my raw breast in hopes of emotional rehabilitation

Hanging With Suspicious Writers

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Hanging with suspicious writers

An overly socialized troop

Collectively creating

An emotionally battered group

Pondering word placement

& the value of existence

The quiet utility of thought

Inspiration compounding persistence

*previously posted on former blog

Suppressing All Normal Emotions

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Suppressing all normal emotions
Pushing away anything that can hurt
Dos mas cerveza por favor
Life for sale under those miniskirts
The sun baking away all energy
Narrow streets with unfamiliar voices
Paranoid of the peddlers’ greed
Caution or you’ll always feel these choices

The John Wayne Type

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I admit I’m not the John Wayne type
I’m not one who wants to fight
Though, I’m not afraid of confrontations
I’d just love rather love my woman by candlelight
I’m a sensitive soul
I’ve been called needy, immature & worse
I just want the time to write of my emotions
Creating a universe into which we’ll fully immerse

Tight Jeans & Faddish Sunglasses

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Tight jeans & faddish sunglasses

Bra straps hanging out of her wife beater

Sometimes it’s all just too much

Pressures of the world & how it will defeat her

 

It all comes back to the blues

Basic emotions of love and life

All the desires we grew up wanting

She only wanted kids & to be a wife

 

You don’t always get what you want

Sometimes you don’t get what you need

There’s no time to think of you

With a broken soul & hungry mouths to feed