Those Words Come To Me In Those Coffee Dreams

Those words come to me in those coffee dreams
A spontaneous marvel of literary delight
There’s a difference between manufactured beauty
& a real beauty, founded by nature’s authentic right
But I can’t explain the nuances with the definition
I’m not one to judge such subjective whims
Focusing on my own qualms & dangling thoughts
Let us sit, pour another cup, let’s solve these problems
I’m not bothered by such trifling issues as rules
Let them worry about my intents & being misconstrued
I let my chosen pages explain all I’m willing to
I’m more concerned if that pot has finished its brew

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Language Is Always Swirling In My Mind

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Language is always swirling in my mind

Concept of creativity begins to protrude 

Coffee poured into lonely & cold crockery 

Enhancing feelings of morning’s solitude 

I feel there’s a fluid density to my dreams

Where it’s not easy for them to dissolve 

Our actions lead us into raw perpetuity

Organically replayed as the earth revolves 

Standing back, removing yourself from here

You find living takes a certain concentration

Happiness requires focus and some effort

But gratitude never achieves complete saturation

There’s So Much Talk Of Being Wild

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There’s so much talk of being wild
Like there’s a constant harness holding us back
But its just an illusion for others to see
You’re choosing to embrace all that you lack
These false pretenses are keeping you low
Images of a manicured life on your social media feed
Spending your days adjusting other’s perceptions
When these aren’t the actions of a happy life really needs
It’s difficult to perceive any truth as you focus the camera
The projection of crazy as you manipulate your reputation
Here’s a secret, the honest people don’t really care &
The real wild ones don’t bother with perfect punctuation

Don’t Worry About All The Little Things

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Don’t worry about all the little things
Mere details in your ongoing existence
The small decorations on your story
Paling in comparison to love’s actual distance
Focus on the sunshine, where happiness lurks
Ignore the naysayers & look towards your time
You’ll shine & blossom into something beyond
So hunker down, prepare your soul for your prime

Autumn Is Growing Dark

 

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Autumn is growing dark
The season of the macabre
A stiff drink for courage
& inspiration by Bob
Imagination drifting a bit
The corners seem shallow
I’m losing my focus
These demons seem Hallowed

 

 

 

 

*Clearly I’m behind in my posting if this is just now making it to my page…

Watching The Storms On The Horizon

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Watching the storms on the horizon
Keeping my brim down low
The sunshine warming my back
Clouds; thoughts the Lord only knows
But it won’t always be this warm
Where I’m going, a chills to be found
Turbulence, but I’m forever loyal
Focused; I won’t let us run aground

I Don’t Want A Sterile Love

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I don’t want a sterile love
I want it real & raw
Desire to be overflowing
With the heart’s Summer thaw
Knowing a kindred soul
My kisses deliver with utmost precision
Dedicated focus toward only her
Giving a new meaning to ‘tunnel vision’

Thousand Yard Stare

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It was dark out on the flight deck. The stars and moon not visable tonight. The hum of the Diesel engines mixed with the lapping of the waves. The rest of the guys were inside playing cards. He was sitting on a bullnose, where the mooring lines enter the ship.

He was dirty. The overall grime of shipboard life had taken its toll on his uniform, exposed flesh and general psyche. At this point of the deployment, his blue ‘digital’ camouflage pants were were out of regulations. They had rips, paint splatter and grease stains. No one gave him flack about it. There was no time to focus on those aspects or the means to replace uniforms. It was not important at this point. There was a mission at hand. The priorities were to do your job correctly the first time. Crisp new uniforms would not help you succeed out here. There is a feeling among sailors that those who had time to polish their boots did not have a real job. Admin types and supply personnel usually were the ones with nice looking boots.
“Smitty, you okay man?”
“I’m cool”
“You got that 1,000 yard stare going.”
“Naw, I’m just thinking. I’m fucking tired man”
“Me too.”
“I just want to go home. This shit sucks.”
“I know, I don’t even want to get off the boat in port.”
“Right? Let’s just go back, cut all this short.”
“Wish we could, man. You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah. I’m cool. I’m gonna go to bed soon.”
“All right man, don’t be grabbing chains and jumping off the side.” They both smiled. “We’re laughing, but seriously. It’s not that bad. We’ll be home soon enough.”
“I know, thanks man.”
They went their separate ways. Smitty returned his gaze back out on the water.
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