Honorable Craft

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I love what I do. But even love does not make the everyday grind easier. I still have to push myself to go further, work harder, and recreate myself constantly. These may seem like easy challenges but 3-4 hours of practice a day in addition to physical fitness and running a company -d the challenges are always daunting. However, all of this has really taught me to appreciate the time and effort that people take, whatever they may do or create, in creating food, cars, chocolate, coffee, anything. On the contrary it really gets me when people do not have any respect for craft and simply take your money. It is sad, especially when you are scrapping by in the beginning of your life trying to make ends meat. So I wrote a poem about how the creation of value is something that can not be taken for granted. Take pride in what you do and I will do the same – that way we can make this whole world better. Cheers and enjoy!

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What is value

What is value worth to you

Is it cheap or expensive

Speaking of this

My thoughts seem quite extensive

I work everyday for little to no pay

I am happy with my decisions

I work independently no supervision

Grinding out every single dollar

Learning to hustle

With guitar in hand a singing bustle

I expect when I do receive a dollar

That it be spent on something of value

Wasting money on temporary happiness

Ain’t quite my thing

For I work and work and work

Hoping to just break through

No complaints to me

I am just trying to explain it to you

That if you cheat me of my money

When I finally get paid

It cuts to the heart

The words have been said

Some people do not value quality

Crafting, carving, and caressing to being

These arts are not of pertinent dreams

Some value a tax return

Others a good meal

Whatever you enjoy

Just make sure you get a good deal

Cause working hard for your nickels and dimes

Make’s one realize you trade dollar for time

All done in real time

Working hard day and night

Don’t let people get away stealing

Taking what you work hard for everyday

Food companies making higher margins

Clothes companies exporting jobs

This is robbery to you and me

We work hard for our money

So we can not just let it be

Take pride in what you support

Love what you support

Vote with what you support

Because in the end

Life is way to short

The Flat Screen Pulpit

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I was mischievously distracted by how the news channel always seems to throw in slanted information into the news. This night I had been thrown off guard by some real information and then remembered the source and was amazed at how well they mix real news with propaganda as to catch and hold the viewer. In addition to making people believe what they say is true – both propaganda and news. But these people have the gift of gab and they use it to their advantage creating truly no overall good unfortunately, but why should they care. Here is a poem about it. Cheers!

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Delicately selecting to preach by mouth rather than feet

Sitting on a box on the wooden table

The flat screen pulpit drawing people in with images

To be seen

No significant or deliberate meaning to the words spoken

Crazy fool must be joking

Speaking cotton falling from the mechanic moving mouth

For the masses to walk on

Treading hard on a wiry path

Writhing through city streets and dense forests

The breathe he laments into the open air

Casting spells on the trances eyes

Watching

Eagerly

To see every move

Every word

Spreading fowl spirits

Reckless on the delicate evening mess

If only he would silence his accusations

Resume to the news and useful practical information

That can inform rather than entertain

A challenge he may not maintain

The Next Day

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Late night driving caused this inspiration. After a long cold winter it was nice to see the fog in the late night again. It really reminds me of summer and a pending springtime. A short sweet poem for today and remember spring is on the way.

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At 12 A.M. the night is new

Every moment that passes births one anew

The fog sits

Delicately upon chilled air

Parking lots rest vacant weary from the day

The sun has departed chilling the lamps and the curbs

The cars and buildings rest after spewing the people into the night

To gain strength anew

Tomorrow is yet another day the fog burns off the light

Will bring in the next day

Chain Restaurant Waitress

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Some scribbles I wrote down after a decent meal. It was at a chain restaurant, one I have not been in in over 4 years. Needless to say I was very skeptical about the whole experience, as I am an avid supporter of local food and goods. However I was taken back not by the food or the atmosphere, but by the generosity and the attitude of the waitress. Which reminded me that the most important aspect to any recipe be it local food or chain food – the human element can make up for so much lost. So I wrote a free form poem about it. Enjoy!

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There is a waitress who will go out of her way to make people happy

No real investment in the comfy chairs the executive sits in or the bottom line

She just wants to make people happy when they dine

Bringing out all the joy and happiness from the capitalists

Or a lack thereof

Wanting to make her customer’s happy bringing water and food

Laughs carelessly to all the patrons in the room

Leaving one feeling happy and hopeful

Soothing and caring

Her beauty is often forgotten in these bland commercial chains

Not tonight she is a beauty to behold

A true delight

Feeling much better when she says goodnight

 

Clocks and Lamps

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This is a poem reflecting on life through the collection and the ultimate giving of possessions. I was inspired by a conversation I had with my uncle, who is a very devout priest, about how the things that he had collected simply become garbage if the family does not want it. Maybe he came to this by seeing all the people come and go in his life – and the disposal of their belongings. It really reminded me of how life is truly simple at the core to give back and not be controlled by what you own. A simple idea and a poem to go with it. Cheers.

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A holy man has spent his years praying

Years

Walking through narrow wooden halls

Lit with dim lamps

When night would fall

Sitting silent on a quiet lake

He would speak so softly

As to not make a mistake

Years passed

His health began to wane

One could never tell

He never spoke much of pain

His years of prayer and solitude

Subtle vintage soul

Quiet demeanor and gentle attitude

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“Is there any worth to this”

He asked me

Once we pass

Is there any meaning left

The colored lamp, wooden clock

Passed from hands to hands

Through generations tenderly walk

Falling down the mountain

Back to life
Formed from reincarnation

The giving fountain

Eyes passing

Looking

Watching

Take what is left

When the date has passed

When the soul departs

Small trinkets left

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I learned much from his quiet soul

His tepid walk

Gentle flow

Upon others shoulders

Leave what you collect
From the field

There is no reason to save

Gands these items we collect down

It becomes a pile of forgotten

The trash man will collect it and move on

Drive away in the early dawn

–

Clocks and lamps

Collect new meanings

When new eyes see

A new branch is born

Upon the tree

A City on the Verge of Revolution

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My hometown cries out for help and investment from my generation. Not only the monetary investment to restore it, but the physical elbow grease and time that a city needs to be rebuilt. Being that I am a full time musician and weary of committing any time or money to anything because of my transient lifestyle, the idea wears on me. I have no idea what I can do but I want to do something. This is a poem about the challenges the city faces, but what I face also. I am going to do a series of poems on South Bend, IN and this is the first installment. Enjoy!

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A city on the verge of revolution

Slow but surely it rises

Dim lit hopes to find

A solution

Will I be the resolution

Or the prodder

Stay or leave

I can’t just pay restitution

If I stay I shall invest myself in the future

A price not yet determined

The man at the store

Is not afraid to give me the sermon

The streets can be brought

Back to original glory

Of the Studebaker nights

An all American story

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At stake city buildings

Crying out for help

Asking to take its wings

Nourish it with fillings

Can these hands build back

What has been stolen away

Should I give up

Simply wait for yet another day

These streets and walls have gone on neglected

Yet I try to move out

All my things

I have collected

Only to be called back

With a voice so timid and quiet

Asking for help

While its soul is dying

–

Can I afford to stay

What help can I be

Even a little effort

Goes a long way I can see

People are inspired

Looking for revolution

So I fix the brim of my hat

And commit to be

Part of the solution

Equality

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All this talk about equality

Let us remember it was a gift

To you

To me

So what right have we

To not give it freely

We hold onto this gift

Tightly clenched in our hands

While people beg to be equal

You plot to make other plans

Try to quiet the voices of upheaval

Standing in the way of progress

Will leave the heart cold

A heap of tender mess

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This is no question of religion

Who is holy and who we bless

It is about sharing love we have been given

Don’t stand in the way

Change is winnin’

When cold mouths fall silent

Ears muted to the calling out

That is truly

Not what this country is about

Embrace the wind from the mountains

Fall back into the ocean tide

Stand with our neighbors united

Throughout all the country side

Democracy needs us now

In the moments tried and true

Moments committed to the history books

Are decided right now by me and you

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Forget the political stands

Religions trying to buy you out

When fair is not fair

You must scream and shout

People who need equality

Ride next to you on the highway

Sit by you on the train

Do not let these peoples strife

Be forgotten in vain

The bird that flies in the night

Will be back at dawn

To lay at rest

When the work is done

As Martin Luther King brought light to the flame

Calling out to our generation to continue

To do the same

–

For we are on the cusp of progress

The moment when intuition and passion

Are put to the test

So let us not rest

Until everyone is seen equally

And as we say in the USA

To everyone

God Bless

Everyday Poems

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Poetry can be a mythical creation that comes at times unexpected. Sometimes it is just a plane old everyday experience. I am currently exercising my writing every day as a way to grow and understand my own writing and inspirations – as a poet and a songwriter. Somedays are just like this poem – just a simple reflection about the things around me with no real deep inspiration, other than the commitment of writing. I hope you enjoy this “Everyday Poem”. Cheers.

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Cup of hot tea

Time for reflection

Nothing better

Than late night detection

The mind wanders

Fingers write

Thoughts of the day

Lead to the night

Trying to grow

One line at a time

Creating poems

Words whisked together

Hoping they shine

Adjectives and verbs

trying to find the right words

Behind these eyelids

Simple thoughts will serve

For the next idea

Will be stolen from the day

Spoken in words

Elicited from what we say

Some nights are inspired

Others the normal kind

Putting the pen to paper

Just doing it every time

In hopes of growing

Achieving something greater

I needed it in my life now

My world would be different

If I waited one second later

Through poetry I have found

What resonates my life

Notes that resound

The soundtrack of my days

Is written in these lines

In these pages

It is me that I hope to find

When eyes become heavy

Sleep bound

I pull up the covers

Close my eyes

While the world spins round

Wonder

Video

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This is a song about how my mind seems to wonder at all times. I have a very curious personality – and I feel this song really captures the way I feel sometimes. Enjoy!