You Tell Me You’re Tired

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You tell me you’re tired

& don’t want to put on that dress

There’s so much to do

That your mind is a mess

But I’ve made arrangements

& the kids will be away

Tonight is only for us

Let me take away the day

Dinner is almost ready

Take this wine to the shower

I’ll put on your favorite waltz

We’ll dance into the latest hours

*previously published on former blog

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Tired Of The Ancient Traditions

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Tired of the ancient traditions
Feeling scared of former neglect
Provocations of patriarchy’s past
Though, I’m here to firmly reject
Everything outside of our union
Reallocating life to its proper size
Knocking over their pedestals myself
Escaping from undutiful, prying eyes

A Picture Postcard Perfect Appearance

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A picture postcard perfect appearance
Modest, yet smoldering beauty beneath
A festive spirit expounding – Winter’s tales
Out singing carols & hanging a wreath
But once you come home for the day
Put on those hooker lips & pirate boots
Time to release your animalistic desire
Tired of being demure & a little too cute

Perhaps We Should Outlaw Hate?

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Perhaps we should outlaw hate
Tired of them dictating our actions
Forcing us to fear living normal lives
Their bombs & their guns desire immediate redaction
Appeasement never worked in the past
We can’t survive by filling rifles with flowers
But I never want to hate like my enemy
Somehow, a united front is needed by the World Powers
But I reckon they’ll continue to squabble
Letting every opportunity pass on by
Their egos reinforced by their Cold War arsenals
But the truth remains, how many more innocents have to die?

I’m Not Feeling Myself These Days

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I’m not feeling myself these days
My body creaking when I walk
I grow tired as soon as the sun sets
The youth no longer listen when I talk
Life hasn’t changed; I’ve grown old
I’m no longer the freshest young man
But do not underestimate this mind
For it’s still spry & I’ll always be the Pan

Pretty Girls Are Pennies By A Dozen

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Pretty girls are pennies by a dozen
Beauty is fickle, you better have more
Please don’t come with the same story
Leave your tired past at the door
Say something to make me feel alive
You’ve always spurned life by chance
One day the clocks will fall upon you
Free yourself, purposefully; not by happenstance

I’m Not What You Expected

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I’m not what you expected
You wanted a hero to swoop
A gentleman caller fuss about
But I refuse to jump through hoops
Clinging to wedding day fantasies
You meticulously primp & preen
But I’m tired of your expectations
Time to sever our ties – abruptly clean

Once Again Fog Hides The City Away

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Once again fog hides the City away

No worries about being burnt by the sun

Another beautiful morning by the Bay

My legs have grown tired, I can no longer run

I need to rest down by the docks

I’m here to start a new life by the coast

No longer shall live life by the clocks

Life in the desert was only tolerable at most

I’m looking for a woman with golden hair

I wish to rest my head where I no longer weep

She said she’d be waiting out there

Will I ever get any of that peaceful sleep

I Don’t Think You’re Better Than Me

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I don’t think you’re better than me
Running tired fingers through my hair
You’re an apparition of your feeble mind
A moment forgotten – vanished in the air
Though your hatred is real enough today
I’ll gently ask you to keep your composure
A gentleman shall not tolerate outbursts
Besides, your ineptitude is dying of exposure

Glamorous Morph Of Atmosphere

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Glamorous morph of atmosphere
Pretty people falling in place
Chamber pieces held tightly
Morning’s warmth upon your tired face
Hope today may be better than
All which came disappointedly before
Recreating ourselves into something
Giving opportunities to be much more