Fresh Lipstick & Attitude To Match





Fresh lipstick & attitude to match
The pretty piano player; a punk rockette
The domestic goddess with a need to be clean
Living on the edge of the cosmopolitain set
Hoarding her guilty pleasures fiercely
The moral ambiguity is a stubborn crutch
Ignoring nature’s perfectly placed laws
But she’ll only accept the light’s soft touch
Wearing an evening gown at her elegant leisure
Within her mind, no better way to take a selfie
She’s blunt with her standards & expectations
But lucky for us all, my poems are gluten free


Dancin’ On The Dew Drops





Dancin’ on the dew drops
Behind the magic of the unseen
Lettin’ the sun shine through
Another morning light & serene
Duck & dive past negativity
Run free; barefoot on the grass
Soak up all of nature’s joy
I’m gonna go pinch my woman on the ass


The Government Wants To Lock Me Up




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


Watching The Sun Rise Over Norge Hills


Watching the sun rise over Norge hills
Waiting for nature to gently overspill
These are special days, even if we don’t see
Reality collapsing into itself; the only place we can be
Still quiet homes with subdued families at rest
Admiring the calm while it’s still at its best


Catching Her Skirt In The Wind




Catching her skirt in the wind
Weathering this day nonetheless
Hair whipping across her face
Flustered; such a beautiful mess
A chilly day among the Highlands
Her tartan blowing in the breeze
The magic of something almost seen
My mind caught up in nature’s tease


Sailing Out On The Good Ship


Sailing out on the good ship
Prevailing winds ensuring a clear path
Foregoing the unexplained existence
Forging headlong into nature’s wrath
Arctic waters surrounding our view
Diligent sailors crewing this steel boat
Perpetually longing for a illusive home
But buoyed by a dedication keeping us afloat


Shining Societal Dolls;


Shining societal dolls;
All alike in appearance
Remaning robotic in nature
Together, rigid in adherence
Decked out in the finest lace
Roaming fancy & ornate ballrooms
But you never saw beneath the mask
Preying upon all the potential bridegrooms


I Was Mortally Wounded In Love


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 Took A Stroll Down By The Water


I took a stroll down by the water
I wore a suit, I think it was a cotton/linen blend
My soul needed a dose of fresh nature
My heart needed somewhere it could mend


Circular Arguments In My Semantical Nature


Circular arguments in my semantical nature
Feelings expounded in earnest in the rain
Taking life slowly without such hassle
Exact footsteps allowing you the least bit of constrain
Sleep remains to appear in reoccurrences
Unchanged in our former exasperating doses
Unable to look away in these sudden urges
Ticking away, starlight illuminates one supposes