Quietly Adjusting Back Into Your Life

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Quietly adjusting back into your life
Unseen boundaries & soaked in the rain
But this is a temporary thunderstorm
The sun will return tomorrow & permanently remain
But we don’t need to wait to be happy
For it’s a mere emotion we can choose
‘Fake it until you make it’, still applies
For in the end, what do we have to lose?

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Watching The Sun Rise Over Norge Hills

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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

Scars & Flaws Mark Our Character

 

 

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Scars & flaws mark our character
There are no monuments upon the sea
With no footprints in the waves
We cling to adventure in order to be free
But we all too soon grow old
The cold days along the Scottish coast
Searching for the proper port
To be comfortable with our dubious host
These days we’re looking to break even
I feel each of my years in my bones
I embrace my Saint Brendan’s medal
Within the night shift I can quietly atone
Remembering the light within her eyes
Reflecting up into the midnight’s moon
There’s a lot we might misconstrue
We’re stained, but maybe we can learn the tune

I Know Why You Don’t Have Panty Lines

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I know why you don’t have panty lines
You’re looking great in that pencil skirt
My mind does dizzying things when you smile
I focus on your delectable lips, so moist & pert
I grow quiet – I don’t wish to be taken as a fool
So you don’t notice me, I’m cast off as a clumsy guy
I’ll keep your secrets as you’re mistreated again
All the while, your laundry’s hanging out to dry

Hanging With Beach Bums & Bashful Babes

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Hanging with beach bums & bashful babes

Swimming in the surf on late Spring days

Colorful flavors poured gently over ice

Skin glowing after hours in the pleasant rays

I thought I saw a Sea Hag along the sand

Though she revealed herself to be a Siren

Coaxing & teasing me with her demure allure

Whispering that I might be a modern Lord Byron

Uncomfortable with compliments of any sort

I quietly pull out my pen to jot down an ode

Her eyes grow wide, then a smirk & a wink

Simultaneously my mind, heart & loins explode

 

Hanging With Suspicious Writers

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Hanging with suspicious writers

An overly socialized troop

Collectively creating

An emotionally battered group

Pondering word placement

& the value of existence

The quiet utility of thought

Inspiration compounding persistence

You’ll Find Me Beyond The Cobblestones

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You’ll find me beyond the cobblestones
Quiet man writing within a chaotic confine
Euphoric bedlam swinging from the rafters
A modest home upon the steep incline
Spirited princesses keeping me youthful
A curmudgeon with a loving streak
An honest hermit with little to say
Though here silence will not translate to meek