Tag Archives: Boston

Cabbage and The Uncomfort of Life

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I didn’t want to do it

I guess I kind of had to do it

Shit we do to make it through

Renting out half the space

The rat race isn’t even

Half way through

The smell of cabbage in the morning

Warning that the uncomfort of life

Is seeping through

–

It wild the way we hustle

People bustle

Plan for the next month

Once again feeling uncomfortable

But I guess in a city

Where rules are only enforced

Rather than exist

This small task I complete

To make it through the month

Cause if not I call it quits

And back on the road I’ll be

With only half my wits

–

I’m not running some grand hotel

Not even a bed and breakfast

Just trying to make time with no roomates pass

The hosting seemed to be the only option

In a city

Where the Attorney General

Might be hot for me

But I guess I’m damned if I do

Damned if I don’t

It’s New York City

The only answer I can not give

Is

I won’t

Ring the Brownstones

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“You do this every God damn time!”

Exclaimed the man

Hands half thrown in the air

While he ripped the door of the old van

Open

“Fucking Bullshit – that is what it is!”

His head full of dark hair slightly covered

With a Yankees hat

Strewn to the right

The short stout man

Flung the back door of the transport van

Wide open

Hoping to rip it from the hinges

Anger, rage, discontent, dismayed

His voice rang up through the brownstones

Like a choral chamber in a church

He disappeared into the van

Throwing out both one more explicative

Cargo equipment

His friend walked drooped at the shoulders

Slowly recovering the bulls rage thrown

“I’ll tell them what I am going to do”

I wipe my eyes for the first time

It is 7 AM on Manhattan Ave.

This is not unusual

But rather more intense than not

I pull my face close to the glass

Feeling the winter cold briefly pass

My nose

Must be cold out there I think

Unfortunate soul

Throwing out the kitchen sink

But all on a good Tuesday morning in Brooklyn

Now

Back to work

Simple Flake

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The time it takes

For one simple flake

To make its way

Down the streets of New York

Falling carelessly to the ground

Over the Empire State

Shoveling below

Cracking sound

Filling the streets with heavy

Steady and steady

Falling so hard

I can barely make out

One World Trade

In a storm for the ages

Barren isles of food in the store

We bear down the hatches

And get ready

For just a little more

Awaiting the Snow

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Mine for the taking

Undertaking

Sincerity or faking

I withstand the scene

Seen on every TV

Commercial or contact layer

Layered with talk

Talking heads

As I wonder my own destiny

I neither own nor know

What lies beneath, below

I watch more heads talk

And await another round of snow

Continual Postage

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Continual postage

Send me on my way

Held back

Deferred another day

What can send me out

Into the world

Hurled out with no precise measure

Regardless of challenges or pleasures

This will be my postage

Paid upon sending

I have paid it due

For once my stamp is applied

I must see myself through

Morning Exercise

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The purpose behind

The green outside

In a winter morning

Simple prose upon warming

Keep inspiration flowing

The more you make

It’s yields keep growing

So at 9:20 AM

Hoping for a new set

Of inspiration

Looking for new adventures of writing

Looking low

Hoping the ideas are not hiding

I let my fingers and mind go

And this is what it has to behold

Unfettered Risk

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The risk of the situation

At hand

Money, life, time, love

Put on the line

Inhibitions to the wind

But sometimes I way awake

In the early hours of the morning

Wondering

Restrained

Breathing

As the light turn out to on

From black to the palest of blues

Have I done the right thing

For me

For you

One can only hold their breathe so long

Before the body reacts

I have to get some sleep

Find a way to relax

But somehow I have grown to love this life

Uncertainty abounding

There is something romantic

Not knowing where the next paycheck is found

So I close my eyes and count to 10

And I slowly fall asleep again

Three Letter Prose

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Building rows

Of three letter prose

Steady up

And steady grows

Sunday Mornings wane lightly

Just enough momentum

To get flying

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner

In the midst of a mild winter

Growing up

But not growing old

This is how the week

Slowly lulls me back

Ready to begin

Again

Relative Hesitation

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The slightest hesitation

Bound up in eternal

Procrastination

One moment later

Can be a true difference maker

When realizing what will be my mark

Leftover when I am through

Will I have waited

For some long awaited hopes

Or woken at dawn

To climb the morning ropes

Destiny has to relation

For those caught up

In hesitation

Mere Mortals

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Making paths out of town
Stairs up
Stairs down
Padded feet touching the blackened ground
Boston to Brooklyn
Now Minnesota bound
Skyscrapers fill eyes wide looking all around
Flights to catch
Caught above ground
Subways clock click and pass
Under bridges and street
Towering overpass
The city passes us along to world portals
Making life bigger than what the mind
Is capable of
We are just mere mortals

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