No Accounting

Open the door,
Search the store,
See sales, price tags,
Ask "what's the catch?"

Except for books.
When I get a good look,
All I ask is
"Have I the cash?"

I'm sure everyone does that
Except when they don't.
There's no accounting, for taste.

I Chose Not to Act

Embarrassing stories of things that I've done?
I'd gladly tell them all.
The list of the worst times I chose not to act?
Line one leaves me appalled.

No Season but Summer

I remember when
Summer took it easy
With baseball on TV
And Everclear on CD.
Sat back, put my feet up,
Gave my legs a shake.
Back then, summer was like
The world took a coffee break.

I remember the summer
When I learned to drive,
The hubris of feeling
That free and alive.

But summer these days
Doesn't make any sense.
How can cash be the object
And time the expense?
Why spend four whole months
In the worship of money
When books and my time
Are more precious to me?

In all of my life, and the
Dumb things I've wished for,
In no season but summer
Do I wish to be younger.

Release

Soft and warm as fleece,
Your smile brought me to my knees,
Brought my passion to demand release.

My desire is now the same, only moved.
Release my heart.  It's time to go.
Don't ask my why, or how I know.

Ardor, Alchemy and Chemistry

My desire is like the sun,
Consuming everything light
In my heart, making it heavy.

Everything looks lighter for it,
My burning from the inside.
Wanting you heats the edges of my world.

My need for you is chemical and alchemical;
I crave the heat, the bond, and
I want to be transformed by your presence.

My ardor for you is arcane.  It portends of pain,
But how could I expect wanting so badly
To please you would be pleasant?

Ancient State of Mind

Cavemen laugh at our schedules.
We work longer hours
To support an economy (a man-press)
That thrives in a sea of distractions.
Those tend to provoke mixed reactions.

The future might hold the same
Old same.  That would be lame.
Still better than a waterfall
Of P.C. apologies
And misused technologies,
Where the hive takes liberties
With us and from us,
'Til we bust.

Escape the present, dull and dreary,
Or dreaded unreliable uncertainties
To the past:  truth behind a curtain of mystery,
To ancient cultures, long forgotten,
Tribes to teach us what we should re-learn.
Let's go back further, to a world full of fossils
(Or for a diversion, to fantasy novels)
Where you need only dig in to make anything possible.

That's why if you're looking, you will find
Me in my ancient frame of mind.

Is It Enough?

You want me to promise the moon and the stars,
But I'm not sure that we've gotten that far.
Is it enough to adore and respect who you are?

You want me to promise things, always and never,
Times I have never been to, and don't know.
Is it enough to promise you tomorrow?

Eyes and Ears

I enjoy the way she looks at me
When we talk of her hopes and fears,
But I know she isn't in love with me,
Only my eyes and ears.

Tomorrow I'll Be Sore

Sitting alone in a room full of strangers,
It's too dark to see and too light to hide.
If I said I want to be here, I lied.

Sitting too high for a toilet, too low for a throne,
I hate it when my feet don't touch the floor.
Tomorrow, I'll be sore.

I take another drink
To ease my mind.
It doesn't.

Times of Weakness

I know in times of weakness
Fair face and figure, plus tantalizing touch,
Present particular perils.

Sometimes foreknowledge is not warning enough!


In mind, I rise to meet your eyes,
And should I find I want your days,
I must picture you and I grown old,

Because perspective changes everything.


I suspect you did not do the same,
And should you choose to hold my gaze,
I'll soon see you as someone to hold -

- And you would dare to poach my soul?