Street views
Of old time news
What comes in the wind
In the morning or at night
Old time news
Learning from the past
Our own goal
Window pane strolls
On Sunday afternoons
Old Time News
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Air to Breathe
Air to breathe
Needed on some days
When overwhelming thoughts
Occur
And reoccur
Just a bit of wind
In the lungs
Can be the song needed
To be sung
Ode to Control
Letting go
In a time like this
Wood burning mess
When the times are hard
An ode to control
Is called
Norms of ideals
Exist no longer
When the ice melts
And turns into water
From my tiny apartment in NYC
Packing up my life
City to city
A republic in confusing times
And settings
Ode to control
If I were a risky man
I would be betting
Stages
Some days
The hardest part
Is just showing up
Rolling out of bed
And starting
Forging ahead
When the eyes want to fall back
To sleep
The body asks for rests
Preparations must be made
Instead
Of laying
In bed
Tired and No Eraser
No eraser needed
No backspace allowed
Forward progression
Is all that will be permitted
No accident acquited
While in the chair I sit
Working words into phrases
Of decent proposal
Halfway hope
Left over
Emulation
Hold on to the recreation
Of hopes of being someone else
Be a first please
Not a second
Emulation
Lacking creation
Don’t emulate
Innovate
Back and Forth
Leaving the city
Back and forth
Working for our dream
Letting go of what is in between
The city grew us up
In much-needed ways
Now we feel that
We must get away
Steep rent and subtle
Increase in food
All that is need for it
To come undone
What if we held on
But held back
From our dreams
Giving up for the city things
The One Spot
The one spot
A table in reservation
Not one close to the door
Where the wind blows
One on the other side
Where it’s warm all day
That’s the spot coveted
In New York City
Away from the door
On a cold winters day
Walk into the cafe
And hope
For a nice spot
Be Clear
Be clear without hesitation
Wait for nothing
Understated
How to move
In these times
Requires
Not aversions
But straight lines
A Good Day
Do you think it will be a good one
The man leans in
To his friend
Hoping for a positive message back
That will be sent
On a cold day in New York City
What makes a good day
What makes a bad day
On the streets of Manhattan
Looking up at the tall buildings
While the people keep passing
I think it will be a good one
With sunshine and charity
Let’s hope for a good one
Today
A Cup of Songwriting 