Watching The Condensation Seep Into The Desk

Watching the condensation seep into the desk
I think of the glories that have gone away
The ice melting/mixing into my single malt
I’ve been nervous, but I’m okay by the end of the day
These days weren’t the ones we’ve been dreaming of
Idealistic thoughts when we were on foreign shores
Imagining celebrities dancing inter formalwear
Fancy & festive role models displayed forevermore
Upon the big screen & locked into our minds
Americana lost & the golden age of Hollywood
Stoking the passion of our fervid imaginations
Inspiring our dreams like nothing else ever could
Our hopes & desires abandoned & hung out to dry
Stark realization our fantasies are mere celluloid
The cold night, withering on the streets alone
Upon the credits, leaving the theater broke & into the void

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Status Is A Peculiar Concept

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status is a peculiar concept
to someone who just wants
to lock himself away & write

so save your Park Avenue dollars
for someone interested in
your upward mobility illusions

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

Time Can Water Down Revolutions

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Time can water down revolutions
Make you think it’s all through
You’ve settled into the motions
Somehow your spirit failed you
But we have some hidden secrets
Something that keep the motor running
No use in divulging your very own truth
Locked lips; the sign of something more cunning

Max Headroom Is Stuck In A Box

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Max Headroom is stuck in a box
Reclusive creature of yesteryear
Been trapped there under lock
Trembling hands with rippled fear
Our former lives now tarnished
With time dropping of another grain
Too much polish, too much varnish
Our earnest vanity will be our pain
But to peel away those outer layers
Uncover something forgotten & small
Hidden deep, lest our betrayers
Might catch us before the squall

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

Crawling Away From Sudden Shores

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Crawling away from sudden shores
Locked away in anterior rooms
Sunlit beauties try to remain pale
Complexities of intimate bedgloom
Modern mermaids express themselves
Repelled by their former clamshell
Their silence betrayed the insane
Meeting up again behind the bandshell
Eastbound Portola around the curve
Writing hard to retain your shape
Lost in the Inner Sunset
Catching the N Judah to escape