I Want To Get Tangled In Your Dreams

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I want to get tangled in your dreams

Full on, not just a healthy smattering

I want to lose control & my sanity

To consume your love, not just flattering

I’m not content to whisper pretty words

I want to get dirty; succumb to all your feats

Tell me each & every fantasy, but say them slow

We have the rest of eternity to get tangled in our bedsheets

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When I Was Young & Dumb

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When I was young & dumb

Pretty girls with no souls were a distraction

My fancy bounced from every girl
Who chanced to flirt

Somewhere along the time
I figured out my priorities

I dedicated my heart
Searching for something pure
Something genuine

I found her
&
I knew

Down the road
Ten plus years later
She is still mine

I love her all the more
Because
She doesn’t need me
But she wants me anyway

Skyfall

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It’s not a crime to be pretty
Wearing rented dresses, searching for a breadwinner
Socialites & other plastic people
No redeeming qualities, but she wants to be thinner
Her vagina will accept almost anything
Whether it be dollars, pounds, marks or kroner
A consummate professional at all times
She expects to be well paid for every geriatric boner
You don’t look gift whores in the mouth
Searching for a sugar daddy, anyone will do
Sitting in the bullpen, hoping to get promoted
Waiting to pluck her next victim, how many already gone through
That swath leaving nothing to the imagination
Offended when the whispers mention a gold digger
Everyone can spy those silicone scars
Next time she’ll go a couple of cups bigger
Sucking more than the marrow out of life
She’s trading her youth for money & security
But once tarnished, Innocence forever besmirched
Time is constantly magnifying all your impurities
There are certain priorities in this life
A father must keep his daughters off the pole
But something much less discussed nowadays
What do you do once she grew without a soul
This scene is littered with heinous & fickle creatures
Cloaked, it slowly begins to scandalize & appall
Men with large billfolds & absolutely no shame
The current failure of society & they call it Skyfall

Oh, I’m Sorry

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Oh, I’m sorry
Did you expect me to behave
Who do you think I am
Controlled along your radio waves
But I’m not that easily handled
I’m a pretty stubborn kind of guy
& subject to many whims of fancy
Living this life on the fly
I refuse outright to be your stooge
Or carryout all that you have planned
Understand, I’m devoid of rational thought
I’m immature; I’m the Pan

Fresh Lipstick & Attitude To Match

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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

Hair Pulled Back, Eyes Down

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Hair pulled back, eyes down
To avoid my affectionate stare
You cannot fathom my attraction
& you shoot me an annoyed glare
You don’t feel so pretty
You say you’re not ready for the day
But that never mattered to me
For I’ll continue to love you anyway

A Wink From Her To Get My Heart A-Revving

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A wink from her to get my heart a-revving
Her pink negligee hanging below her knee
Soft skin turns into hardened intentions
The promise of a night of debauchery
A bouquet not desired, but a single bloom
Visions of adulation thoroughly taut
I’m rigidly attuned with her frequency
A fine suited man removing a Windsor knot
Fastened to my bedpost; a sailor can surely tie
Settling down with this libertine, methinks
A pretty picture of a delicious woman
Purely polished reflections in my cufflinks
Post coital; passion overflowing this room
Perfection amid people imperfectly real
Precious moments that I’ll never forsake
My woman’s love, allowing me to constantly heal

Forgiving The Passionate Hubris

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Forgiving the passionate hubris

The least fractured figment of my ire

But I’m not competing for affection

Denounced for their fateful friendly fire

So I’m taking the eastbound train

To remove myself from the glitterati

The Urban gentry called for my death

Betrayed by those who are rash & haughty

The train tumbles on through the rain

Steaming towards the next Highland city

Needing a respite from those judgements

From the girls who love to be called pretty