Desperation of Desolation

The desperate times

Desperate measures

Come up with something good

A productive measure

In times worn thin

As the veil of light

Through the morning curtains

We have to continue to

Rely on food decisions

To set us right

Day to Be

The coming days to be

Letting go of what was familiar to

You and me

A city

A life

For bigger and better

Discoveries and journeys

Letting go

While others hold so tight

That they squeeze the life

Out of the joy

Thy love

And love left

It will be


11:57 The clock reads

Momentary and sedentary

I return to the road

We travel so often

Yet so unfamiliar


The hope of unity

A collection of ideas

Almost perfect

But perfect in its imperfections

It has beauty despite moments

Of Lack of direction

Proceed on our journey

To find people

To share moments and peace

This is my idea to bring


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


Uneasy Life Matters

A mind scattered

Pulled apart and tattered

Will make not one noise when shattered

Yet others will wonder and chatter

With him there is something wrong

Something must be the matter

But no words will be used to flatter

My uneasy life matters

Tomorrows End

The painstaking rearranging of change

Unfolds like a cold flow of blood

To the brain

The tightness urges a little saying

Bursting out from my grasped lips

I can not think of tomorrows end

Or uncertainty certain bend

I just focus on the moment in front

Not two behind

What lies ahead is what I will find

The constant ebb and flow of the tide

Makes me feel uneasy sometimes

So it is in change that I find solace

Even though the certain I will miss

Upon the altering sunsets

I will rest my eyes

Upon a new state line

A think for a time

How constant flow around me

Can help me see the true bounty

Of life

Surely Uncertainty

Surely the uncertainty

Will certainly

Wear perfectly on

The real worthy


Confirming me


Putting me feet in front of me


There is a 1 out of 3


That whether we sing

Or dance

We will not have enough


To stash away

For the future

So we must take utmost precaution

With scalpel and suture

Sow our future

To know it can grow

And go where we hope it goes

Our future together

Must be stronger

Then when the wind blows

But truly

Who knows

The Possession of Fluent Success

The unknown path of success

Teeters as much in my hands

As it does at rest

It balances not with my abilities

Talents or goodwill

It will find a line curved

Sloped sideways

And up a hill

The great challenge is to wait


Knowing that I am

Unacquainted with the ways of success

It must pass from my hands

Through the eyes of onlookers

Into ears and slowly through hearts

Then it must make it way

Back out through the mouth

To adhere to other ears

Drumming to the sound of what is new success

These ears must then determine if my notes

Pass their discernment test

For which at this point

I have no possession of fluent success

It is now in the air we breathe

The sights we see

It is out there tucked away

Against the mess


I can not define

What is success

The Great Pressure

How is the brain

Wired in such a way

That even simple tasks

Under great pressure

Can seem so unachievable

So distant

Out of control

How is it that ideas

Thoughts and motions

Can move my head

In evening rest

To stay awake all night

To turn left and right

So irritable the mind can be

When the pressure is turned high

On me

The Tolling Bells in Brooklyn

The bells gently toll along Brooklyn Streets

Reminding us

That this city celebrates and grieves

Lives and breathes

From my studio

You hear the city life come to light

Lighting the sky

Filling the rooms

Walking down Manhattan Avenue

The fog wears heavy on the Manhattan Skyline

Tucked away from view

A sleepy afternoon

The memories of my life

Will be created here

Not in Paris or Tokyo

Rather just east of the Hudson

Learning to go from walking to runnin’

All under the ringing bells

of Brooklyn