We Want To Be Original, But We’re Stuck

We want to be original, but we’re stuck
Lost in a world where it’s cool to ‘not give a fuck’
But I don’t want to hand down a society devoid
My children deserve more than the lazy & easily annoyed
We need to change our hearts back to something pure
To believe in love, magic & Pixie Dust – I’m sure
The end will be here too soon one of these days
Together, we must show the light & the possible way

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Aroused By The Typewriter’s Bell

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Aroused by the typewriter’s bell

I’m salivating like Pavlov’s dog

Imagining caffeinated mornings

Walking the Sunset within the fog

Though those were forgotten emotions

I’m not able to repeat that form

So I do my best to feel the original

Sometimes I’m hard to notice before the storm

From The Brink Of Normality

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From the brink of normality
Brought back to stranger realms
Blinking away the intense pitch black
Delirious dreams remain at the helm
Beauty a steady crushing force
Never before seen lips so malevolent
Unknown to a rapturous mind
Leaving us only with our original intent