The Government Wants To Lock Me Up

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The government wants to lock me up
For I don’t fit into their diabolic plans
Turning society into robotic morons
I just can’t continue to work for The Man

Trying to sell us artificial stimulants
Fickle airwaves with their bully pulpit bought
Falsified histories & professional victims
The system wipes us away without any thought

Pharmaceutical conglomerates tell us
Conscience is a personality disorder we can’t shake
Turning our daughters into Stepford Wives
Stealing our minds – hoping we’ll never wake

Corporations in league with the dolt on the throne
Continuously embarrassing the whole of humankind
Whose agenda has a limited number of characters
How the hell is this the best choice we could find

But I won’t succumb to any of their devices
I’ll take my liberty and the happiness I’ve pursued
Rejecting the crooks & ignoring their feigned power
Won’t find me in Nurse Rachet’s line; docile & queued

I can’t live a life that’s so blatantly false & empty
My soul is no longer pristine, but I’m an honest guy
I’m taking to the wilderness; leaving the State behind
I’m trading their promises for a more natural high

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Morning Departures

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Morning departures
A silent plane overhead
Black coffee warming
But I’d rather be in bed
Waking too early
Quiet village in my eyes
An empty mug
But it’s a pretty sunrise

Typing, Hacking, Thinking – Smokin’ Hot

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Typing, hacking, thinking – Smokin’ hot
Typing your best to empty all thought
Pouring your soul into force upon the keys
Your woman walks past with a dress above the knees
Now you can’t think or type or stammer straight
The hell with with deadlines – this one’s gonna be late
You pray to the spirits of procrastination or whatever you think of
Burn this project right now, sacrifice it in the name of love

*previously posted on former blog

Poseur Punks Stealing My Traditions

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Poseur punks stealing my traditions

Though they never earned the right

You cannot reappropriate a feeling

They’ve never been adrift under a starry night

These kids’ empty hearts & endless expectations

I left the sweat of my brow upon the sea

With too many of my nights away from home

In an entitled world; duty means a lot to me

islands far off in the chain

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boat drinks to ease the pain
faded footprints in the sand
wondering what to understand
the wrong ones seem to fall
emptying into life’s easy stall
try to wipe away transgression
avoid the depths of depression
find something good and well
broken bottles in that old hotel
whispers in a decadent night
clothes falling within my sight
my soul feels damaged & scraped
walking away, only to escape

Chloe Thurlow

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“Eating the peach is a meditation. Your mind empties of all the must dos and should have dones. You are pure being. Your lover’s tongue is the key that turns the lock that opens the pleasure box. Life has few perfect moments; moments of cunnilingus score the highest on the sex blissometer.”
― Chloe Thurlow, Katie in Love

Empty Streets Late After Dark

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Empty streets late after dark

Rain tries to wash away transgression

The anonymous walk back on home

Another night’s bout of depression

Hidden moments of solitude

Lonely stretches of cold concrete

Distant lights seem to fade away

Damp steps along an unknown street

There once was a place to go

Reasons for each & every step

Though all that was lost long ago

Into my bottle of cheap wine I wept

Suburban queens & their diamond rings

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Suburban queens & their diamond rings

Thinking sparkling possessions are theirs

The object of so many men’s thoughts

Lustful fantasies in each of their stares

Primped, dolled & dressed to the nines

These bodies merely trophy wives to be stressed

They hold no special value for society

Beyond the contents under their dress