I’m Seeking A Truth

coffee-1276775_1920.jpg

 

 

I’m seeking a truth within these fragmented words
My thoughts won’t cooperate with how my fingers move
Typing on this old hand-me-down machine to transform
My mundane existence into a magical, deliberate groove
I am not afraid to expose the flesh of a wilted soul
There are no heroes in these parts, just broken misanthropes
Internalizing the segmented society & all the villains
Returning to coffee so black the void regains precious hope

Advertisements

I’m Tired, Weary, Fatigued, However You Want To Call It

nature-2576510_1920.jpg

 

 

 

 

I’m tired, weary, fatigued, however you want to call it
This world is tearing itself apart, with no end in sight
Neighbors can’t stand the appearance of each other
If we don’t swerve, we’re all going to face the fiery night
Reject hate, reject them, reject the world’s system
I don’t care if kindness long ago went out of fashion
Don’t accept your options, make your own way
We need return to art, return to love & compassion
‘They’ are anyone who’ll tell you we can’t survive
Without stooping down to unconscionable degrees
Rebel, refuse & reclaim enlightenment & love
Lead ourselves away from their dysfunctional societies
God reserves a place in Hell for those who spout hate
Whether you believe in Christ or what Buddha taught
Love doesn’t see the differences between us
We can do better; a peaceful way must be sought
Politicians are no more than door to door salesmen
Fraudulent purveyors of the American dreamscape
But we, the silent underground, emerging each day
Fed up with their vision, proof that heroes don’t wear capes

Something Noble

cold-707165_1920.jpg

 

 

 

 

Sally came to her Advanced Writers class that evening without much inspiration. The winter semester was headed toward finals. The stress kept building upon her. There had not much time to write lately. When she had wanted to write, she found the well was dry.

She was a junior at the University. A notebook could always be found in her bag. Sally had a habit of trying to write down any interesting thought she came across. She had been keeping faux-diaries since she was a little girl. Sally was shy about her writings before she met like minded people at school here. Now, she was cautiously open about what she was capable of writing.

Outside was bitter and cold. The snow hadn’t been cleared from the streets that afternoon. Everyone was walking carefully, if they went out at all. She wore her ancient clunky Docs an old boyfriend had bought her years before. They provided decent traction on the sidewalks.

She removed her coat and hung it on a hook at the top of the auditorium. She wore a light blue sweater and leggings with a scarf around her neck. Sally would be considered pretty once you took the time to look at her. She had a slightly nerdy appearance. She tried to look attractive without wasting too much time on superficial endeavors.

This class was her favorite of the week. She tolerated the rest of her schedule to be able to sit here and listen to Dr. Fitzgerald. As the class went on, she sat mesmerized. She had come to this school to learn from her favorite poet. This was her dream come true. She awkwardly smiled as he spoke.

“No matter what anyone tells you, you can’t teach poetry. You can only encourage someone to feel onto the page.”

She scribbled that quote into her notebook. As the class ended, Sally put her belongings in her bag. She noticed the professor was the only other person left. She took a deep breath and approached him.

“Can I buy you a drink or a coffee, Professor? I’d really like to talk about some of my writing.” Sally bounced nervously as she spoke.

“No, my dear, the Missus is eagerly waiting for my return.” And with that he limped off, down the corridor . He used an old shillelagh as a cane. She just smiled as she watched him. There was something noble about that man.

False Attempts At The Old Scottish Jig

scotland-1987599_1920.jpg

False attempts at the old Scottish jig
Distant past lingering – nothing wise
She was never the heroine you always needed
Finally gave up after all those tries
Beauty’s eye was never truly blind
Having been lied to, left you distraught
Perpetual cycles now cold & mean
Never the quality you had always thought
Smile inward, you are the crowned victor
Playing their game with the cards dealt
Karma worms its way into a deserving soul
They’ll never know how your true love felt

I’m Not Some Hero To Call Upon

IMG_1288.jpg

 

 

 

I’m not some hero to call upon
Just a simple man, wanting to go home
Bracing against these salty winds
Reoccurring themes to this syndrome
I know where all the good stuff is
Needing my love at the end of each day
Counting white caps dancing in the water
There’s nothing complicated in my DNA
This ship slowing with her icy sails
Wishing to return to warmth all the more
Searching for glory towards the True North
But my heart was left with her back on the shore

 

 

*photo is mine

Waking Up Before All The Roosters

uss-constitution-79609.jpg

 

Waking up before all the roosters
With a black coffee in my hand
Carrying dreams & fears onboard
Somehow those rails have to be manned
I don’t know if heroes still exist
But that’s definitely not me
I’m just a lowly sailor
Who’s penitence is to sail the sea

You Have Your Notions Of Me

You have your notions of me
Whether it’s my rugged good looks
Or I’m a notorious scalawag
But neither a hero or a crook
I’m not a man of much persuasion
Nor am I a wild west outlaw
I choose to wear the eyepatch
But I’m more of a gentleman with flaws

I write fast & love slow
Without a care of what they say about me
When you have faith
You never have to wait & see

I quietly find my secrets within
Descended from that beautiful literary brogue
To hell with the naysayers; we’re gonna have fun
I’ll be your host tonight, the swashunbuckling rogue
Many out there won’t warm to my charm
Not their cup of tea or simply they’ve no style
But you of good taste & reknown class
Come share a spot with the one with the mischievous smile

You Didn’t Sell Out, You Bought In

gears-1236578.jpg

You didn’t sell out, you bought in
At least that’s what you regurgitate
But you, yourself, are a cog in the machine
Grinding out this state sponsored hate
You speak of crying in the streets
Heartbroken their flavor of evil didn’t win
But it’s a system of corruption throughout
With each career politician speaking the sin
Where did all our heroes & leaders go
Driven out as the bureaucracy multiplies
Buried with the truth in all that paperwork
We’re doomed unless the people rise

Against these manufactured lies

I’m Not What You Expected

son-in-law-1050289.jpg

I’m not what you expected
You wanted a hero to swoop
A gentleman caller fuss about
But I refuse to jump through hoops
Clinging to wedding day fantasies
You meticulously primp & preen
But I’m tired of your expectations
Time to sever our ties – abruptly clean

Confidence To Hang In The Shadows

moscow-852676

Confidence to hang in the shadows
Not trying to soak up the limelight
Society just wants to destroy its heroes
Refuse to honor them with a fight
You can’t win when they distort the facts
All is fair in love & imaginary wars
I’ll take my dreams & integrity
To live a life worth resisting for