Manhattan means of hustle
Cannot be outdone
The city’s soul
Worn and wrung
The pace of growth
So fast and known
The life investment
Can build or take your home
So we jump in
Head first
Awaiting new phone calls
The hunger and thirst
My brain in a bottle of kombucha on a ride through the rockies
Fermented and pressurized ready to explode
Some days my mind winds up so fast
With nowhere to go
Those days seem to be the most frustrating
Deranging
Planning becomes insufficient
My minds moves quicker than a prayer to St. Vincent
Contingent on results
That can no be provided quick enough
To ease my worried thoughts
I wish I was more thought delayed
Taking my days with quite more ease
Rather than trying to just run away
The mind can be a mild pond or a ravenous sea
Somehow I am the one who decides
It’s ultimately up to me
The tall heights of towers
Lingering over industrialized edges
Waterfront
West of the city
Graffiti rich in depth and texture
From the skies to my feet
Greenpoint on the edge of the East River
Stirring up dust
Unsettled
Tell the tale
Of a big town
On the banks of the Hudson
The sweet subtleties of the city
Through the breeze of leaves
Blossom from the long winter
Spring man now enter
In the calmness of May
May we be entertained by the weather
Alone
The gentle feel of a mild day
Close your eyes
To feel the city lift you away
The country mind
Somehow growing up dreaming of the city
The bright lights
Open all night
The bustle of people
And feeling alright
Yet differently
How the city mind
Grows up dreaming of the country fields
Wind swept
Vast land appeal
There is no perfect remedy to this deal
For one desires the other
For the other can never be
What the city life provides
The country life will never be
So fill life full with many experiences
Long for the city
Long for the fields
The experiences we gain
We be our minds true yield
The delicate bliss
Of chlorine
Mixed with a mild coffee bean
Acidic and complex
Every element sampled and contained
The foggy windows from a morning rain
Even the exhaust from the street
Owns a part all the same
The complexity of a coffee in Brooklyn
Is yet a bit more tedious
You can feel this
Sweet berry high notes
With cleaning residue
Somehow city coffee is just
As good as you can do
From drops off the grinds
To a coffee cup warm and kind
City coffee is it’s own sampling
Of all the air fresh and old
A city cup
Hearty and bold
The breeze through the leaves of New York City
Any other city would be untrue
Somehow in a full town
It feels like just me
And you
There comes a point
When the life you dream
Becomes the life you live
There is no slowing down
No retreat
What you have to give
Must be in high quality
And on repeat
The dedication becomes meditation
Reaching for the highest moment
Unknown
The moments continue to grow
To make new opportunities
The moments can be less
About what you do
They begin to define
You
The unknown path of success
Teeters as much in my hands
As it does at rest
It balances not with my abilities
Talents or goodwill
It will find a line curved
Sloped sideways
And up a hill
The great challenge is to wait
Undisturbed
Knowing that I am
Unacquainted with the ways of success
It must pass from my hands
Through the eyes of onlookers
Into ears and slowly through hearts
Then it must make it way
Back out through the mouth
To adhere to other ears
Drumming to the sound of what is new success
These ears must then determine if my notes
Pass their discernment test
For which at this point
I have no possession of fluent success
It is now in the air we breathe
The sights we see
It is out there tucked away
Against the mess
Somehow
I can not define
What is success
The inconsolable sociopath
Taking note of what to destroy
Along the path
It is sad
That little can be done for such sadness
How can I reflect on my own faults
Weaknesses and shortcomings
Undone and left for incomplete
I wake in the morning
To refine the nimbleness of the fingers
Mind and stretch the soul
I will admit that my own weakness
Is that I can not slow down
Take hold
But if we search for only the shortcomings
Of one another
We will be sorely disappointed
None can claim perfection as a profession
Such naysayers can have such perfusion
A fusion feeding the needing soul
Passing through this life
Looking for the simple imperfections to hold on to
I pass over this
Wake up again and let it go to rest
There is only so much stress
I stay cool
Under the real life test
A Cup of Songwriting 