Articulate Assembling

Articulate assembling

Summer salad created

Hands willfully picking the pieces

Assembling the creation at hand

Southern Indiana type of man

Years spent on the eastern seaboard

Now looking a bit more windward

Back against the jet stream

And to the midwest

Now creating companies with goals set

A man and his discovery

Looking for hopeful engagements

And full recovery

We sit for dinner

My wife and I

Engaged from side to side

Discussing his next adventure

From the countryside

A home set off in the distance

Off the country roads in existence

We discuss possibilities of new futures

I wish I could have seen this sooner

Just on the Outskirts

Bradley is a happy man

He falls asleep on the island

To the sound of a bellowing fog horn

Cutting through the air as rich as worn leather

He awakes to coffee that envelops him

With a hug

Rather than a mere raspy handshake

He is content on the coast

Billowing up steam from a morning roast

Falling asleep as the fog crosshatches the eve sky

Across the bay

Happy till the day he may day

Rent control his eternal protection

Umbrella’s held in rather polite distinction

Humanity’s bustle he has no strict participation

Watching the sunrise

Heightened by windy anticipation

However the wind blows

On the edge of the sleepy little beach town

Bradley has it right

Bradley is a happy man

Just on the outskirts of San Fran

 

Parking Lots

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3 AM Parking lots

Not a lot to it

Cold lights bear over black stained stones

Moving slow after 8 hour rolls

We have a way of making it OK

Me and my love

On the road

On the road

On the road

Ruptured Lines

The flawless defeat

Of the demonic judge

Ruptured the lines holding

A grudge

Numerous screams absorbed in defeat

Holding a rock now

Standing at his feat

To the sky his hands are held

Over the judges corpse bellows

Double the warmth running

Through his veins

Now transformed to flawless

Caves running from his heart

The heart of a man who has overcome

Challenges

Defeats

For he now

Is the only one left

On his feet

 

The Concussion of Consumption

A brother in arms

We move forward attempting

To right our wrongs

From our previously torpid ways

Deny science

Change

We harbor no feelings for advance

When we recede rather than succeed

Impede rather than proceed

The ice caps melt

Float away

We push it back another day

Another generation

Another worry for another nation

As the suns rays

Trap in our atmosphere

Our smiling unwilling faces

Burned and seared

There is no therapeutic release

From this great indignation

Jam our hands with more consumption

Pushing back the possible eruption

Our will becomes fuzzy from the sudden jolt

Of a concussion

We have the ability to go from sour

To marvelous

From sinister

To genius

It is now truly up to us

For we have watered down the glass

But now the glass overflows

We must take heed of what our actions sow

For the future

Our harbors will cease to exist

Unless we make moves to resist

Nature does not need us to persist

So it is a calling to action

Sounding the alarms

For we are now all bound as brothers in arms

Embark Blindly

29

The final hours down

I can’t say I regret much

Although loosing

Loved ones was rough

A full decade to reflect

Looking back at life’s intersect

Even as I fine tooth comb inspect

I am happy

Moving forward and not leaning back

Bursting at the seems

With high impact

I embark upon 30

30

It takes a moment to set in

Realize the final ringing of the bell

Not an ending

But a closing

Reaching back at this point

Has no meaning

Worthless in my attempts

My vain grabs at last seconds commence

As ten years of live conclude

I had counted down the months

Since I knew

27 turned 28

No big deal

28 turned 29

No 30 was in sight

And tonight

Tonight it sits quite real

Real indeed

It came so quick on my

With high velocity speed

So I reject with no anger or remorse

I will let time do it’s just course

Submit to the seconds that will bring about change

In my mind, body, and soul

I will celebrate my own growing old

But as these last moments unfold

I hope that I can do better in the next ten

No regrets

But not letting up

Seeing the next decade to the end

Age brings about wisdom

Which in turn sets me free

As I embark blindly

Upon the journey

Of turning 30

Sea Change

Tomorrow is a fine day

Tonight might fine too

A decade of life seen

All the way through

But a change is coming

Way out at sea

As I prepare for turning

30

Wiley Uncertain Progress

We were safe for a couple days

Laid up down south

And feeling strange

Unusual rather than usual

Not pampered but

Taken care of

As a musician this is luxury

Unknown

Until this moment

We behold

My wife and I relish in

Wiley uncertain progress

But today we hold each other close

Knowing we have a certain relaxation

Safe in moments exhalations

We cherish the wild open future

And relish the present

Unequivocally Quick

Wandering as I am

There is no calculation to my risk

No easy decision

When it comes to my vision

My experiences are like

Chemical reactions

Exploding on contact

Creating action

As if a vase were nudged from the ledge

From a careless yak

My nimble mind has no conception of reality

Externally or internally

I am frightened by these revelations

How my ideas manifest in the most odd

Of gesticulations

So I sometimes back away from my hopes

Decisions and inquisitions

To better understand myself

In hopes of becoming the more informed

For that I am scorned

So my stays are unequivocally quick

I leave sojourned

On my journey from night till morn

White Floors in Brooklyn

White floors

In Brooklyn

Don’t stand even the slightest

Chance

Against feet

That have trod all day

Night

Evening

Through to morning light

Imperfections will be made

As one foot

The next is laid

White floors in Brooklyn

Are a high price to be paid