Max Headroom Is Stuck In A Box

records-1148927.jpg

Max Headroom is stuck in a box
Reclusive creature of yesteryear
Been trapped there under lock
Trembling hands with rippled fear
Our former lives now tarnished
With time dropping of another grain
Too much polish, too much varnish
Our earnest vanity will be our pain
But to peel away those outer layers
Uncover something forgotten & small
Hidden deep, lest our betrayers
Might catch us before the squall

Advertisements

Absentee Postmasters

Absentee postmasters in a foreign longing state
Discussing politics of lost & forgotten mates
Central themes no one remembered to notice
Eyeing secrets along the day to your favorite hostess
Stuck in a rut & broken down on a fragile road
Distances lost with the woman lying in your head
Remedies too severe to be used on this night
Gently track where you’re afraid to tread

 

The Truth About Women’s Feet

  

Love wrapped around my mind like a shroud

Full of colors, spectrums & radiant splashes

Not a day without engulfing sunshine

Blinded by pantyhose & false eyelashes

I believed in the fairytale courtships

Sipping champagne from glass slippers

Lovely damsels in need of gentlemen

Revealed to be crude strumpet strippers

My soul could not take this detail

Where was my love with elegant class

Distraught in this new reality

Stuck on feet made for crystal glass

How could my dreams unravel so

This giving me pause to think

Now I understand the truth

That women’s feet actually stink