Tag Archives: classic

Incompetence

I’m just another ire fathom left to be relentlessly haunted

Parturient resolution before optimism goes beyond demented

Classic then archaic, brash before karma shows face value

As once again, assurance suspends and is left with odd virtues.

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Stories For The Antique Shops

Let’s get carried away, we can’t go back to yesterday
Call out the names that you used to know
Singing along in broken stereo
Crossfire that you can’t ignore
I know I’m not around much anymore…

~*~

Here, what was gained was a premeditated loss

Point fingers for blame but never find the cause

Heartwarming situations turned out to be coaxed

Just another fool’s trick, just another foolish trope

.

Because diluted explanations don’t seem to matter

And it’s condemnation to inquire, it’s better to sue

Because the blatant assumptions are held hostage

By a shotgun until the pastor proclaims them true

.

With what’s sincerity I thought there was to abate

Yet it was another fraud you meant to indoctrinate

Was it all fake, then? Was it just a sorry Wonderland

You’d climb to the rabbit hole and let go of my hand?

.

Though for a moment, there was something truly going

By a hairline fracture, by a sinew of flesh barely hanging

But I suppose you got tired holding on to something archaic

Pardon me for being worn-down, never being timely classic.

~*~

One last time for old time’s sake
One more bend before we break
One more time as if we planned it
We just wanna do some damage
So long, so nice to know you…

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Café & Concerto

I need you like the flower needs the rain
You know I need you, guess I’ll start it all again
You know I need you like the winter needs the spring
You know I need you, I need you…

~*~

overwhelming—

the crashing tidal waves

of concerto and palatable

patisserie tastes alike

strummed electric strings

intertwining with bitter

yet dainty chocolate rumble

rough vocals like rough sketches

of rembrandt’s lost art

interlacing and intertwining

in rosaceous thorns like earrings

around my wilting lungs

and caramel macchiato sips

dripping on cherry ink.

beatbox, wind chime, cymbal

symphonies and deep bass

thrumming withing the pulse

of my heart’s sanctity

like the tick of woodblocks

guitars twanging, reverberating

in ceramic sugar jars and

lilliputian silver spoons

placed aesthetically in tables

of a checkered cloth blue

siting under ruby rotund lamps

and incandescent fairy lights

the spill of fountains and tree roots

mellowing down tired eyes that

even the most glaring of

tiny glowing screens cannot

disrupt nor ever distract—

as their helter-skelter classics

bring me back to the past

among decades and centuries

of the good olden days

sixties, seventies, eighties

losing to rustic country music

losing track of time

losing sense to the rhythms

losing languorous repasts

losing myself and finding out…

until my drink is lukewarm.

and the sanctuary of the audience

humming, clapping, cheering

in pleasant pleasantries

sweet teeth stuck in a smile

effete tastes and composition turns

crashing and colliding,

disorienting and dizzying,

blinking and blocking;

until the beat of my halcyon heart

is chiseled to the atmosphere

of that whimsical place

and i feel like i completely belong…

overwhelmed.

~*~

And every day, I’d laugh the hours away
Just knowing you were thinking of me
And then it came that I was put to blame
For every story told about me, about me…

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High Voltage Damnation

Back in black! I hit the sack
I been too long, I’m glad to be back
Yes I am let loose from the noose
That’s kept me hanging about
I keep looking at the sky ’cause it’s gettin’ me high
Forget the hearse ’cause I’ll never die!

~*~

Let’s go back to the olden days

Of girls, strippers, badass cars

Rock like a TNT explosion play

A hard life of wars as rockstars

Cheeky innuendos set up to kill

Charming croon, gravel scream

Ready to fire, and shoot to thrill

Guitars of two and five of team

Let’s go back to the olden days

Where reverting to black, it sells

High voltage is not just a current

And every song’s a highway to hell.

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