Why Are You Sittin’ Way Over There?

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Why are you sittin’ way over there?

C’mere, let’s have a lovin’ tussle

Slide across this ol’ bench seat

Time you felt some American muscle

Cruisin’ at over their speed limits

Where to? We’ll be there in a snap

Hike your skirt up a little more, girl

Why not, crawl over here to my lap

You won’t be needing these panties

And if I might tell you the truth

I merely wish to taste your sweetness

To drink endlessly of your Fountain of Youth

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Speeding Through Green Lights

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Speeding through green lights
Welcoming the rites of Spring
A warm day to rise & smile
Walk softly & listen to the birds sing
A fiddle & bagpipes call out
Traits of hope & smiles in the air
Release the frustration of Winter
Be free; dance out in your underwear
Feel the heat of the morning sun
Pour yourself an early glass of wine
Stretch out with a wink for me
Bare skin kissed by the glorious sunshine

There’s A Beautiful Woman I Know

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There’s a beautiful woman I know
She’s waiting for me on the shore
The letters say she’s been lonely
Don’t want her to feel it anymore
I close my eyes & silently plead
Please Captain, full steam ahead
‘Cause I got a lady back home
& She’s waiting for me in our bed

I’m Not A Fancy Poet

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I’m not a fancy poet
I don’t have a soul patch nor a beret
Within the confines of each breath
Trying to create a literary bouquet
I merely write how I feel
Without thought to how I’m perceived
No time for such arbitrary notions
True to myself, I know I’ve achieved

I Was Mortally Wounded In Love

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I was mortally wounded in love
So here I sit, writing verse after verse
My soul wilting, returning to nature
Damn, feelings no more than a curse
But you’ve got to keep on living
Knowing there’s an end to the bitter night
We’ll find the light of morning sunshine
In the meantime, we’ll have all we write

I’m Not Feeling Myself These Days

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I’m not feeling myself these days
My body creaking when I walk
I grow tired as soon as the sun sets
The youth no longer listen when I talk
Life hasn’t changed; I’ve grown old
I’m no longer the freshest young man
But do not underestimate this mind
For it’s still spry & I’ll always be the Pan

Don’t Tell Me Stories Of The Righteous

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Don’t tell me stories of the righteous
I don’t want to hear of infatuated glories
My hope dwindles & my cynicism rebounds
Whenever your lips utter their sponsored stories
I’ll let you rule the ruins of dilapidated society
Your politicians ran amok, forcing common core math
I’ll retire into the wilderness to write my manifesto
Be forewarned; if you harm my loves, you’ll feel my wrath

I Won’t Listen

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I won’t listen
To whispers & how you judge
I’m quite adamant in my refusal
I’ll pay no heed to your rude little nudge
You can keep your disciplines
They’re not worthy for me to see
I’ll continue to write how I authentically feel
For I’m the the best at being me

I Didn’t Mean To Get Too Personal

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I didn’t mean to get too personal
I merely noticed your exposed slip
My thoughts took me to uncharted waters
Thinking of us – alone- a subtle skinny dip
An abandoned wedding gown crumpled
The satin too white against your lace
I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel
Though I could see the muted joy in your face
You kicked off your heels & removed your gloves
Walking too close you whispered ‘yes’ to my surprise
I loosened my tie before you took charge
I’ll never forget how you looked with your laughing eyes