Time for reflection
Stray away in all directions
Hold true
True to let go
On Sunday I owe this ode to you
Sweet coffee
How it has joined great minds
Connecting people in common time
Real time
The fruit of the coffee tree
In Brooklyn connecting lives
Is what it can be
But thank you coffee for today
Somehow you link people up
In a mysterious way
But it is all the same
On a Sunday
What can I ask
That has never been asked
What can be done
That I would never want undone
Hope, love, joy
Can not be disposed
Thrown out like toys
What can I give
That can never be taken away
Savored everyday
Let go
But not be forgotten
To let grow
Instead of going rotten
My hope is on the first
Letting go of the second
In a moment
I may stand corrected
But for now I hope
I dream
I give
I let go
The light passes through glass
Rigid at the top
Distorted unequal wobble
Of light through the bottle
Incandescent lit up flutter
Transparent empty
Filled and dashed away
Sips of cold water saved
Into the hot wash
Cracked plastic dry
On the table coop
In this coffee shop
–
The passage of time
Unearths the only healing
Sometimes
Maybe I thought I needed
Support when I needed growth
I needed to see less of me
At home
It just exposed some uneasy moments
Anger long since tucked away
I have it good
I’ll be the first to say
But when you give
Only to see love given away
Rejection some would say
Is less than understandable
I feel uncomfortable
In a space that is constricting
Binding and holding in place
Glued my feet in a fast race
Outpaced
What I realized
Of life’s lessons to learn
I could not have both
And what I needed
Was true growth
To all a great American Holiday
It seems wierd to say
That there are not too many
Of these days on the calendar
A celebration of a family at large
In charge of food
To be with wonderful family
Friends and familiars
I relish the moment
Cheers to all the friends
Around the world
Time to take off
Give this Turkey a whirl
I wish I could understand
My own angered emotions
I wake up in the fog of
A misty blue ocean
No warning in sight
My destiny it seems
Hope infected with blight
Animal with parasite
A foundation
Buckling at the beams
It’s not that I am upset
Just set in a way
I guess I just have ambivalence
Somedays
“I don’t mean to be too frank”
I tell my wife
She is the golden leaf
In my life
But I have to understand
My own emotions
Polarities in the deep sea ocean
I will struggle through
A cup of caffeine
I am sure will do
Some food too
And back to work
I’m sure
I’ll make it through
Summation of a uniquely
Different point of view
Innovating steps
Taken in front of you
The moment is savored
At first sip
Like a fine wine
Decanter fine glass drip
Through the opening
And into the reservoir
These sips taken
With berry bliss unmistaken
And later off to bed
True that the senses are awakened
Procrastinator once said
It is the morning anew
Where innovation feels dead
The hangover of a loving encounter
Must wake up and rub his head
It is in the small moments
That true doubt creeps in
The despicable little whim
Unable to see the finish line within
I fear these moments
When the moment become lackluster
I can’t phone in a true back buster
Muster up
Look up
You can see it through
If I just continue
Fear will not overcome
Truth, hope, love
Can not come undone
Swat at the sun
Sit and suck your thumb
Hopes of fear
Small minds have
Truly will never overcome
The smell of linens
Warmed hot in driers
Lamp post
Stuck with weekend fliers
Rusted out steel on buildings facade
Bustling traffic on Kenmare
I make my way to the Williamsburg Bridge
Over the eastern edge
And back to Brooklyn
No more than a bed
To call my own
The only options are rent
No hopes to own
So our time here is quick
Subtle and sweet
Seeing some familiar
Faces out on the street
The people still hustle
Just as I remember
Checking in 2 months past
September
The city sways easy in Autumn leaves
Until it will soon be our time to leave
What is safety
Pushed away unsafely
City streets stirred up and shady
It seems a story slams the headlines
Daily
The feeling is uneasy
Slightly crazy
How is it that civilization
Can never be quite content
Individuals looking for a reason
For the greatest descent
Wake up on Monday morning
The headlines read
3 men attacked with guns
On the streets
New York City
In the highest of high rises
No reason to sympathize
For one foolish man
Can bring down the hearts of 3
Right on the streets of the city
Disputes, commutes, early mornings
No sudden warning
My wife and I were only 4 miles away
Uneasy it seems these days
Life can be short of pretty
On tough days in New York City
A Cup of Songwriting 