I Don’t Want To Hear Any More About Poetry

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I don’t want to hear any more about poetry
I just want to write; I just want to feel
I don’t want to hear how I should be me
Just let me live this life, allow me to be real

You Don’t Think You’re Beautiful

You don’t think you’re beautiful
Because of the pain you feel inside
Existence finds itself with a teetering lull
The path to happiness merely not identified
But you need to write your own dreams
Never settle for what others might demand
Seek out adventure & self-discovery
Find the surprising beauty of the unplanned

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Perhaps I’m A Bit More Prudish

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Perhaps I’m a bit more prudish

Than I ever expected myself to be

Shying away from their exhibitions

Folding my soul back into propriety

Maybe I’m not as cool as you thought

I’m more of a meandering old fellow

Writing out lines of cautious fantasy

Whereas reality reveals itself to be rather mellow

I’m Feeling A Bit Ill

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I’m feeling a bit ill
A condition I can’t describe
I need destinations more tranquil
Where’s the doctor to prescribe
I need her to write a note
& a wound to be undressed
For she might be the antidote
At first sight, I’m already blessed

Danced Holes In My Old School Chucks

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Danced holes in my old school chucks
Stepped around your beloved Tiffany lamp
My slouch-fit jeans ripped open tonight
Killed the man who called my sister a tramp
Do you remember when we were young
We were so dumb to think that high
Every dream broken with the vintage neon
We never did get off the ground to fly
Long ago poured out all that dusty scotch
I had to throw out those rose-coloured glasses
I see life so differently in these fresh days
No longer writing for myself & the drunken masses

You Have Your Notions Of Me

You have your notions of me
Whether it’s my rugged good looks
Or I’m a notorious scalawag
But neither a hero or a crook
I’m not a man of much persuasion
Nor am I a wild west outlaw
I choose to wear the eyepatch
But I’m more of a gentleman with flaws

I write fast & love slow
Without a care of what they say about me
When you have faith
You never have to wait & see

I quietly find my secrets within
Descended from that beautiful literary brogue
To hell with the naysayers; we’re gonna have fun
I’ll be your host tonight, the swashunbuckling rogue
Many out there won’t warm to my charm
Not their cup of tea or simply they’ve no style
But you of good taste & reknown class
Come share a spot with the one with the mischievous smile

Time To Shake Loose

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Time to shake loose
With the rhythm of the keys
I’m no longer hopelessly desperate
I’ve dried up all my careless pleas
In the whirlwind, I’ve found my calm
You question my worth, but I just stare
Within my own skin, I selfishly create
Hate & jealousy left, I’m now blissfully unaware