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Floundering,
in a sea,
of unfulfilled dreams,
searching for thee.

When this life,
smacks you in the face,
turn the other cheek,
and your faults, embrace.

A single female,
had the most delectable lip,
made my new adventure,
a reasonable trip.

Does it make any sense,
to write about scents,
when you are thinking
about cents?

Since it's hard to explain,
or make any sense,
when you speak about
words, considered to be nonsense.

Her long, golden tresses,
spilled down from her head.
She put them in curlers,
before going to bed.

Why do we ask,
or talk about things,
because dating is great,
when you receive rings.

A gift from a lover,
a male friend,
adds sweetness to the pot,
when a love you amend.

Please understand,
Candy is dandy,
but liquor is quicker.
Jewelry is handy.

Waking with a pain,
in the back of my head.
Probably when talking,
it was something I said.

Waxing poetic about
words which I write.
Not always the best tactics,
could be, you may be right.

When you hit,
the proverbial wall,
will you have learned something,
or will it be, nothing at all?

When life was young,
so was I.
Now, I'm just another,
real, old guy.

One needs to laugh,
a big guffaw,
for life can be short,
when pursued by the Law.

There are many words,
flowing through my head.
Most of the time my minds alive,
other times, it's brain dead.

When that happens,
there's one way to reply.
Start writing down everything,
all the truths plus one lie,

for when words flow,
out of this old mouth,
it means I've lost my way,
my words, headed South.

I'd like to stay,
and chat for a bit,
but my body is aching,
and my brain is unfit.

An old fool, in action,
is a sight to see,
for his emotional response,
is like torching a tree.

I am an old fool.
I know I am,
but in my view of me,
I'm still a young man.

I seek not the people,
near me, for they are old.
I'm not attracted physically,
my feeling is cold.

I don't believe I'm better,
I hope you see,
for what I seek,
is certainly not thee.

He was a Cat,
from an old neighborhood.
He was a cool cat,
a regular, Johnny B Good.

Not a rocker,
not even close.
He preferred the Blues
lounge music, the most.

Thoughts all twisted,
into weird shapes.
Let me see if I can,
now pontificate.