Pawn Shop Wedding

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We made our way out to the west side. Rough part of town, but we were on a mission. To find Ozark’s Pawn. Heard about a Gibson they had. Wanted to see it for myself. Wanted to see if it was real or fake. Finally found the joint – couple people hanging outside – started to feel like this just might not be right. But it was the joint we were looking for, just walked in right through the door. The Gibson was a fake, plane to see, it was in broad daylight, didn’t take much from me. But my love found a ring so shiny and loved. She knew we were sent here from above. So she snatched it up in a hurry and we left in a scurry. This is a poem about that afternoon at Ozark’s Pawn Shop. Enjoy.

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This goes out to the thrifters

The seekers of deals and goods

My love and I embrace tenderly

The idea of gathering what you can

In ginger subtlety

Creaking doors

Bar lined windows

Smell of second hand soap

On your pillow

Dirty carpets with retro splash

Red in the corners

In the straight it’s black

Finger prints upon cases

Guns, knifes, rings, and guitars

We are going to pay for this wedding

No matter the scars

Bout doing whatever we can

We will go that far

Asking questions

Tapping wood

Making eye contact to make sure

The seller understood

What questions we asked to better know

The things he sells

New and old

We bought a wedding band

Not too bashful to say

The man straight up made us a deal

We could not walk away

Collected our things and got out of his space

Passerby’s can get weary

You have no real time to waste

I was unsettled

“We have to get where we are going”

So we took the ring to the jeweler

She was oh

Quite delighted

“You must have spent a pretty penny”

Truth be told

We did not spend that many

She pulled out a monocle and held it high

Then snatched it back to her eye

Took a good look and said in reply

Its well worth ten times what you paid

No way did you pay what you say

But the truth be told we found it in a place

Way out on the west end

We had not a plan

The man just made us a deal

That’s how our wedding plans began

The Gathering Cup

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This is a truly ironic poem. I noticed it after writing it – because even though there are major crimes that go on in these countries (including the USA) I would wish to think that the coffee cup brings out the best of different cultures. Blame it on being naive, but it is a wish that I have. That somehow this bean is something that all people can relate on – unpretentious and simple. But obviously I know that where money goes follows corruption and tragedies of humanity. So I write this about the cafe – where people come to join. I have never been to Kenya, Ethiopia, Guatemala, or Mexico all that I do know about these places extend from my love of coffee. So here it is a simple poem trying to look at the brighter side of things and enjoy – best served with a pour over. Cheers!

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The Gathering Cup
Kenya, Ethiopia, Guatemala, and Mexico
Gather here in this sacred place
Where aroma lifts slowly off frothed steel jugs
Dripping water slowly and carefully
Tender caress with no mistake
Roasting perfect and smooth
Lifts the mind and body
–
Brought back to the clanging of changing cups
Clearing out old liquids to make room for new
Splashing hot water into cracks and cleansing
Banging of tin and steel
Bringing out the thoughts of perfection
–
Conversations spiral softly and incoherent
Lips embrace subtle rounded porcelain
A gathering room for stories of wild fields
Both near and far
Take these memories where you are
The electricity huzzes and buzzes
Soft as a bee landing in the hive
Settling the feet ever so gentle
Charging the ice makers and MP3 players
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A meeting place for like-minded
Or adverse minded
No one really minds
On certain days Matt will make a particularly good brew
Done with care to temperature and form
With pure focus
Now I return to my gathering cup
To the flavors of Kenya, Ethiopia, Guatemala, and Mexico
–
Rejoice

The Get Well Party that Never Happened

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Recently my fiance had someone that she knew pass away from cancer – relatively unexpectedly. She had been making progress up until her passing. My fiance talked about how they were scheming to come up with a date that we could have a get well party for her and play music for her and her family. The unforturnate reality set in that this party was never going to happen. A pretty stark realization. Here is a poem in memory of anyone who has lost or is losing someone to cancer. Don’t ever give up the fight and have a memorable day.

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The get well party that never happened

There is no reason for this

No rhyme or solution

Just the thought left with no resolution

My mind wanders what could have been

Scenes of a different story play through my head

What could have been changed

What could have been said

No answers come lightly

Or easy

Or quick

Sometimes your body cannot fight anymore

When it get too sick

Cancer

That is what took her before her time

It has no care or concern for anyone

Injecting itself into anything at anytime

Without a notification

Not even a sign

That is why moments must be taken with happiness

You never quite know

When it may be your last

When you plan the get well party

But it never happens

We must live in honor of those who have passed on

Remember them in the morning

And with the falling sun

Keep them in our hearts and minds at night

Because in the end

It is the love

That makes you feel alright

It Takes Time to See It

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This is a poem about spending time with my dad. I have always looked up to my dad for inspiration and hope. He is the longest surviving kidney transplant patient in the world. He has taken every moment for what it is worth and made the best of it – and he has done a fine job. So this is about a day spent with him. Enjoy!

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Late at night when words run thin

Have to think back to the day again

A warm spring day spent with my father

I would not spend it any other way

Never seem to be enough of these days

Wind whipping around from every corner

Making you wish it was just a tad bit warmer

Laughing and talking making it easy

Somehow we would forget it was breezy

Talk about life simple and complex

Where life was going

Where we were headed next

Taking every moment in stride enjoying it thoroughly

Turn the phone off forget about texts

Enjoy the sunlight when it peaked through

Always feeling more to talk about

Somehow I can’t ever seem to get the right question out

In his company I have found peace

I cannot thank him enough for all he has done

He has looked out for me and protected his son

Pushing me to go far in life

Never settle for second best

He never spoke much of working hard or commitment

He just lived it

Everyday walking the continuous line of example

Making it so his actions spoke ample

Amounts about his character and his being

I never learned from hearing

Only from seeing

So inspiration tonight when the words run thin

Comes from a man and I his kin

For inspiration I reflect and I sit

Yet it happens right in front of me

It just takes time for me to see it

Latched Upon Sunlight

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Some days are just short writings. Time seems to fly by and I can not grab enough of it to sit down and do my daily writings. This week I am trying to get 2 writings done per day as next week I will be on the road the entire time. So here is a shot little piece – it is starting to warm up in the Midwest – finally. Enjoy.

Winter wears thin

Latched upon sunlight

A little more feels alright

Wait for more to come

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