Dreaming Of A Forgotten Summer

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Dreaming of a forgotten summer

Youth; wild eyes & full of spice

The hope only the fresh may know

Never finding your innocence twice

The Good Lord blesses us daily

The sun’s warmth will always provide

Moments to bask, wading in the water

Burdens swept in the outgoing tide

Eyeing the inevitable future

Knowing we must make ourselves free

Standing strong with cheerful hearts

& worries washing themselves out to sea

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Where Are These Precious Moments

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Where are these precious moments
Stolen from our heads while we slept
Dwindling doses from the nation’s night
We’re treading water, but we’re out of our depth
Curled up on the dilapidated chaise lounge
Rethinking the possibilities of our crisis
Just a refugee from society’s judgement
Seeking enlightenment in spite of our vices

Sailing Out On The Good Ship

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Sailing out on the good ship
Prevailing winds ensuring a clear path
Foregoing the unexplained existence
Forging headlong into nature’s wrath
Arctic waters surrounding our view
Diligent sailors crewing this steel boat
Perpetually longing for a illusive home
But buoyed by a dedication keeping us afloat

I Didn’t Mean To Get Too Personal

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I didn’t mean to get too personal
I merely noticed your exposed slip
My thoughts took me to uncharted waters
Thinking of us – alone- a subtle skinny dip
An abandoned wedding gown crumpled
The satin too white against your lace
I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel
Though I could see the muted joy in your face
You kicked off your heels & removed your gloves
Walking too close you whispered ‘yes’ to my surprise
I loosened my tie before you took charge
I’ll never forget how you looked with your laughing eyes

Time Can Water Down Revolutions

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Time can water down revolutions
Make you think it’s all through
You’ve settled into the motions
Somehow your spirit failed you
But we have some hidden secrets
Something that keep the motor running
No use in divulging your very own truth
Locked lips; the sign of something more cunning

I’m Not Some Hero To Call Upon

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I’m not some hero to call upon
Just a simple man, wanting to go home
Bracing against these salty winds
Reoccurring themes to this syndrome
I know where all the good stuff is
Needing my love at the end of each day
Counting white caps dancing in the water
There’s nothing complicated in my DNA
This ship slowing with her icy sails
Wishing to return to warmth all the more
Searching for glory towards the True North
But my heart was left with her back on the shore

 

 

*photo is mine

Sailing To The Land Of The Norse

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Roaming free, since empires first ruled the sea
Our little ship buoyed upon the rising crests
Cutting through the waters, making our way
The burden of duty, we have silently acquiesced

Sailing to the land of the Norse
Braving storms that blew & blew
Surviving the ocean’s force
For I’m one of the salty crew

Cautious of what lies beyond this foggy morn
The natural world; the root of crashing waves
Taking in the sight of snow covered mountains
Norse myths & a foreboding weakness we stave

Sailing to the land of the Norse
Braving storms that blew & blew
Surviving the ocean’s force
For I’m one of the salty crew

Now aloft; climbing the mast for a clearer view
Ice, snow & haze coming out of this Northern gale
Secrets of this land & now we’re in its frigid grip
Push furthermore, we have no option to fail

Sailing to the land of the Norse
Braving storms that blew & blew
Surviving the ocean’s force
For I’m one of the salty crew

Drinking The Spilled Ink

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Drinking the spilled ink

Anything for a touch of inspiration

The metal nib scratches the paper

Leaving behind unused insinuation

Touting such triumphs to the Heavens

Coming to these waters to galvanize

Words reign down with invigoration

& finally finding absolution within thine eyes

You Know The Type

You know the type

Running off to sail the oceans

Claiming to be a dread pirate

Wishing for some sort of motion

A stagnant life killing the soul

Truth is, he only ever wanted to be with you

This is the life chosen, so time to live

Easy to forget the water’s real hue