Lost Internet in Europe

Our computer is currently down and I have found writing to be more of a challenge than I initially thought while touring abroad. Our shows have been incredible and we have gained many new amazing fans. Germany is a very beautiful country and I do have some great writings that I’m going to be posting soon – e do not have access to a computer it will be done via phone. For some reason the posts look kind of funny from the phone but they have the same content. Stay tuned. Cheers -Nate

The Shortest Night of My Life

A simple writing from my experience in the air over Leipzig, Germany. I have never flown across the ocean, but it surely was an amazing experience – you never get to experience it for a first time again – so I wanted to document it. So now we are in Germany and having a wonderful time. I hope to keep the blog up to date with new experiences and stories. I am sure this trip will give me a lot to say. All the best and enjoy – Cheers!

The shortest night of my life

started around 5 P.M.

got in a plane in Chicago

got up in the air and off we go

before too long the sun was down

headed east

pulling around some sharp turbulence in Quebec

Got me feeling dizzy

in only hours gone by the sun has risen back

in the sky

my heart beats out of my chest

I felt I could die

that surely was the shortest night of my life

A Wooden Story

This is not a story about John Wooden. I mean wooden as in consisting of wood. I took a minute in another hotel room to reflect and think about what my guitar would say – if it could speak. I think it might say some of the things herein – probably a lot more than what I could think of. But I will never know. I just hope it is good – I try my best. I hope you enjoy the story and rock on!

What story would this guitar tell

Would it be true

Or would it lie

Would it tell you everything

Or just enough to stop the questions

Would it be loud

Or soft

And kind

Gentle or harsh

Loud and unforgiving

Angry

What would it say

Brag and boast

Or simply tell a small tale

Would it go on and on

Or just talk for a quick minute

I would like to think I have taken care of her

She has worked hard and played hard

I try to let her see the world

Through song and lyric

I expose her to new challenges and obstacles

Experiences and countries

Al the while she continues to stay true

To work hard and stay in tune

She needs a little love and care

And a bit of repair

But on Saturday nights you can hear her

Sing bright in the stage light

Bringing a smile to my face

Resonating at her own pace

I hope she has a great life

When she reflects she can say

Being here with me was much better

Than ok

Moving Out There

We have been on the road constantly for over 2 weeks and now we are leaving for Europe tomorrow. I wrote this poem at the beginning of our travels. I feel as if this is our big move – so I was moved to write one night late in a hotel room in Fort Wayne, IN.
I hope you enjoy – Cheers by the time you read this I have begun my travels to Germany to bring American music to Europe! Cheers!

Ode to comfort

Back on the road

So the story goes

Got to get to the city

Play some shows

Ready to get back on stage

That is where I am destined to be

Living among the roads and the trees

To own so little has truly set me free

From dainty things

That really own me

Next month we will head overseas

For the first time the road will grow

And grow

So ode to comfort

It was nice or a minute

But now I am moving on

Forward I will be

Back in due time

But don’t come looking for me

To quick I will know where to come back too

When I am home sick

But for now the road calls

When the pen hits the paper I will be miles away

For I remember

I am moving into the world today

Hairline

I am trying to understand some of the things that seem to change as you grow older. I am not sure why I take interest in these things of vanity – but I do – good or bad. I don’t want to give away too much – enjoy!

Why spend so much time thinking about your hairline

all in all things are just fine

sing and write a poem from time to time

does this symbolize youth and health

or simple vanity

for all eyes to see

what will happen in the days to come

there is no reason for that

I am not sure if it is a reason to just look back

a connector to my past

but I start in the glass and wonder

what is the reason for it

my worry

my concern

in days and years I will learn more

about the world

and myself

Sunday Morning Light

Been on the road for a couple of days and wiped out. Here is a poem about what I enjoy the most about having a relaxing day at home to regroup. We will start our European preparations tomorrow. I am excited to see how these upcoming experiences will affect my writing and perspective. Cheers to relaxation – hope you had a nice day!

Sunday morning light

Moves soft through gleaming windows

Crisp with spring air

Revolving summer

Into the minds of the people

I can still hear the birds calling

Beckon

I listen

Calling on a brisk morning

Asking for a summer born again

Dogs sun bath and grab energy from the heat

Sun shining

As it has not done much this year

On a world needing light and warmth

Grass warming into greens and browns

From grey and yellow

Life restored into lifeless fields

Stretching miles and miles

Foreheads colored again with sunrays

People walking and taking their time

Living up a warm spring day

With nothing on their mind

For when the sun shines

It is a sign

Through the glossy windows

On a Sunday morning

The River is Swollen

Up in Fargo, ND there is some serious flooding going on – in Chicago too. I scribbled this together with Siri on the 16 hour drive home. Enjoy.

The river is swollen.
Fargo fields are flooding overflowing
with water and run off
falling from the sky filling the fields 3 feet high.
Taking turns to throw sandbags to hold the river back.
The water collects the fields and dirt and turns brown and black.
While the snowflakes fall fast and crash on the pavement.
Painting the fields and streets White a revealing statement.
But the river water will not turn from our abatement
Flowin and rolling through the Fields
Making its way
While the water doubles it’s yields.
There is no shield from this water
flowing it just pushes its way wherever it’s going.
Because when the Fargo fields are flooding it’s as serious as can be.
When the fields are full and the animals flee.
What to do with the river now is up to you and me.

The Young Working Class

A late evening in Chicago. Had a nice time enjoying some drinks and laughs with friends. Hope you enjoy. Cheers!

The young working class
Service industry of Chicago Illinois
Sparse light in a dim bar
Conversation flounder and puff
Into inaudible crackle
Faces gleaming orange and yellow
Filled with powder and fluff
Men reclining willfully to distant music
Irrelevant and monotonous
Pushing eardrums back and forth
Jaws pumping laughter heralding
Anger dispensing
Question asking
Bar tender looking for connecting eyes
Asking quickly for a drink
Tip jar sitting silent yet demanding
Women relax on sofas talking about dinner and evening plans
I am but a witness to these thing
On a late Friday night
In Chicago Illinois

Life Closer to the Ground

As I sat tying my shoes I was struck looking down at the cold ground – what would life be like if I lived very close to the ground. I realized very quickly that life would be much much different. It would obviously become very simple in some ways – like pure survival and relying on your senses. But very complicated in trying not to get hurt, dodging, staying clean. There is a lot to be learned from living so close to the ground. So I submersed myself in this to try and see what I could come up with for today’s poem. Enjoy!

Life Closer to the Ground

What would life be like

If I were only 1 foot high

People would loom large

Skyscrapers connecting with the sky

Would I know more about the earth

The way it is created and breathes

The dirt on the ground

The wet grass and fallen leaves

I would be so dirty and covered

I am sure of this in a city

If any other

I would know more of waste

And disconnect

That everyone feels standing 6 foot

Erect

I would feel the wind blow

Under cars and around poles

Would have to stay dry

Or else I could get too cold

I would discover more about humanity

Than what I may have ever been able to see

Shoes stomping on ground

Throwing garbage around

I would encounter forgotten things

Lost keys and crumbs

All brushed under the rug

Where only I could see

Conversations would occur in the heavens

I would have to stay more connected to the ground

So close now I would not have to look down

I would rely on the land and others

To take care of me and protect me

For I would only be one foot from the ground

Feet shuffling past

People brushing their hands over grass

Gum from years ago

Some from just a second ago

I think I could really learn something

Only one foot off the ground

It is the world

I would get to know

What is

Memories tied up in strings

Wood, picks, saddles, and tuners

Plastic and brittle

My mind wanders around the bracing

Through the saddle and what I am facing

What is holding these memories

Why do I hold them true

The memories are not captured in these

Rather in the simple thought of them

Memories come back

Slap me in the face on Wednesday morning

Overwhelming me with no warning

What is it that I try to keep

That I feel I must take

These plastic distractions forsake

Asking me for a place to stay

Asking in a moment forever
and not knowing where to begin

In the end it is just a collection of

Wood, pick, saddles, and tuners

It is nothing more

Nothing less