Good news
Is tucked away in the mountains of Colorado
Sunshine in the oceans off the California coast
Snow drifts in Alaska
Just being alive feels like a small bit of good news
Not these days
When the lights seem more off put and gray
Good news still exist
We have to search the stars and moon
Good news exists
And we will hear some soon
The Saturday News Crew
Has taken a booze cruise
Shouldn’t we all
In a fiasco of words and emotions
The floating of solid objects
In the ocean
I am determined to see
What will become of life lived
Through a lens
Rather than obscurity
What is a childhood home
Just some walls with cheap plywood
Some carpet with less than ideal colors
Home
A place where I have learned
Grown
It launched me to New York City
And back
It kept me while I reinvented myself
While I wondered what I did wrong
What more can I do right
But soon
I can almost count down the nights
This home will be filled with new hopers
Keeping them safe inside
With the same heaters
Where my brothers grew up
A home is more than the sum of the equally dismal parts
It transcends moments now to memories
When we leave that is what I will take with me
Those sweet and sour
Memories
The Saint Patricks day Parade
Rolled into town on a foggy night
People filled the tents with drinks
Feeling alright
The biggest party in down
Raise them high to toast
Then throw them down
I never was a social contender
Or on a first name basis
With the local bartender
Partys for me felt like an eternity
I could not wait to flee
But when the rivers turn green
The celtic bands are heard
In the City of South Bend
Tomorrow morning will be as quiet
As the flight of a hummingbird
The great release
Of power and ease
Appease those around you
Struggle continual
Struggle continuum
The more we please
The more we will be internally displeased
When we can only lie in the quiet of our homes
Where no one roams
Are we destined for failure
Should we learn to tell the truth
Before it goes global
We can not be known for unfounded ideas
Or facts
A revolution of truth
Will be our saving grace
At least it would help us save face
The money is flowing
Without anyone knowing
That behind closed doors
A select few
Are getting very very
Rich
While others are getting sick
Paying bills
Hustling to stay alive
Behind a few doors
With a no entrance sign
It makes me sick to think
How rich some get
Skip the previous sentence
Coffee ground repentance
Transport the authority
You have over a single commodity
The mint leaves grow fresh on the south
Side of town
Across from the ethanol plant
Away from the people
But in the middle of the day
As the frosts of winter
Are far melted away
Fresh mint can be inhaled deeply
Pulled out and steeped
This mint has a way of making the air fresh
A cross between a milky frothy richness and mint
Fresh mint will always remind me of my home
At least the better days
The days when opportunity overshadowed doubt
The fresh mint days of my life
Foreign roads
Lead to treacherous results
What is known is more unknown
Facts are no longer facts
Fiction and fantasy
All intertwined sarcastically
What is literal
The truth
Tied up
Dropped to the bottom of the ocean blue
We have to decide and research
It’s now up to me and you
What in the world
Strength throw dumbbells curled
Javelin hurled
Bench press thrust
Is this a must
Such poor word selection
Power hard
Fast and furious
This leaves more to be curious
Than resolved
Our new mantra to be debated
While people in our country are confiscated
Why such ignorance and clamor
Why the subtle glamor
Celebrating the courageous politicians
Who are much more to be pitied
With blame
A Cup of Songwriting 