Siren, sing me a song,
make me feel I belong
in thrall of your charms,
within reach of your arms –
what could go wrong?

– inspired by @kseniaanske’s upcoming book

Paradoxically, by saving face,
you’ve abandoned all pretense of grace.
You sound like an ass
without an ounce of class –
you’re why they call it a “rat race”.

Penny thoughts aren’t worth a dime
but people like to take the time
to put pen to page
and turn vulgar into sage
with prose, poetry, and rhyme.

Smoke signal in the sky
but is it a lie, but is it a lie?
A vaporous tell
of things great and fell
but is it a lie, but is it a lie…

I do not need a lecture
of your holier-than-thou conjecture.
I know you’re well-meaning
but I find it unseeming –
yours is not my scripture.

Baby, I’m still missing you,
wishing I was kissing you
but you drove away
one dark and lonely day;
that’s what I get for pissing you – off.

Bright as gold
but twice as cold…
She’s a pretty face
and youthful grace
but her soul is old.

The rings of fire
burned ever higher
in the oh-so quiet cell
of my own private hell,
the burden of a Liar.

The rain battered down
upon the weary, beaten town
but I persevered
whenever she appeared
with a sun shining behind her crown.