Revisionist’s History Of Love

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Revisionist’s history of love
A small takedown on the front lawn
Society’s matron’s clucking away
Whispers won’t counteract the dawn
She was an embarrassment of riches
Maintaining a look, polished & dapper
She fell in love with images of marble
Though remaining Fitz’s Lost Little Flapper
Never man enough between her sheets
Circumspect when they found her on the grass
A little more disheveled than she preferred
Especially with that skirt that couldn’t cover her ass

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Immune To A Power Surge

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Immune to a power surge
I sit alone & quietly type
Not affected by technology
Refuse to be your modern gripe
I switched off my terrestrial radio
But I’ll still pound at these keys
I’m not cool or a trendy guy
I’m reserved, doing as I please
There’s never been an audience
Just a few genuine folks
Sharing myself sparingly
I’m better with these slow strokes
I’ll continue to conjure ideas
Preferring to use my typewriter
Nothing fancy; just a love of words
Old, but I can still pull an all nighter

You’re Holding Expectations

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You’re holding expectations
Needing me to be a better guy
Wishing I was more successful
Hating my truth; you’d prefer a lie
So I wander within my own skin
To become what you want in a man
Each day, I’m ever more the pirate
Soon, they’re be no more Peter Pan