Tag Archives: cars

A City on the Verge of Revolution

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My hometown cries out for help and investment from my generation. Not only the monetary investment to restore it, but the physical elbow grease and time that a city needs to be rebuilt. Being that I am a full time musician and weary of committing any time or money to anything because of my transient lifestyle, the idea wears on me. I have no idea what I can do but I want to do something. This is a poem about the challenges the city faces, but what I face also. I am going to do a series of poems on South Bend, IN and this is the first installment. Enjoy!

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A city on the verge of revolution

Slow but surely it rises

Dim lit hopes to find

A solution

Will I be the resolution

Or the prodder

Stay or leave

I can’t just pay restitution

If I stay I shall invest myself in the future

A price not yet determined

The man at the store

Is not afraid to give me the sermon

The streets can be brought

Back to original glory

Of the Studebaker nights

An all American story

–

At stake city buildings

Crying out for help

Asking to take its wings

Nourish it with fillings

Can these hands build back

What has been stolen away

Should I give up

Simply wait for yet another day

These streets and walls have gone on neglected

Yet I try to move out

All my things

I have collected

Only to be called back

With a voice so timid and quiet

Asking for help

While its soul is dying

–

Can I afford to stay

What help can I be

Even a little effort

Goes a long way I can see

People are inspired

Looking for revolution

So I fix the brim of my hat

And commit to be

Part of the solution

The Salesman of Song

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The Salesman of Song

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Born to the middle class

They called him Joe

Full of talent

Full of song

Bringing to life

People’s wishes and thoughts

Make people cry or laugh

Whatever he sought

Growing up he took it so lightly

Musicians were not like him

Seemed to flighty

Years had passed

The pressure had grown

To make some money

Have some kids

Own a home

Through all he had been taught

All he had learned about

Never had the nerve

To sing his way out

See what songwriting could earn

So he went to school and got a degree

Went on to teach middle school until he was 53

Then came the recession

The ugly layoffs

He got caught up in the process

Now he had no job

His paycheck is much less

Would push a mower with his hands

Making sure the kids were fed

Keeping steady the natural family plan

Took out a loan and went back to school

No one ever thought this man a fool

Earned a PHD

Still struggling to find what he wants to be

He writes books on religion

Sells them at the doorstep

He knows that he missed

Stumbled when he could have leapt

He just writes songs on the side

Did it all along

Never had faith to make a living

Writing a song

He sells the idea to the young generation

Asking people for help

Feels the weight of procrastination

In a hole so deep

Playing songs so beautiful to the ear

But no singing can anyone hear

He is too old to try out new tunes

Wants to pay off the house and retire soon

He clearly knows years ago

Where it all went wrong

All that is left

Is the Salesman of Song

5 am grabs me

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Very informal late night ramble. Drove from 8:30 am until 5 am and this is basically where my mind was at. It is crazy how you almost start to hallucinate and you definitely need some time to recover. So here is to late night, cheers!

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5 a.m. grabs me

not asleep yet

soon

maybe

probably not

the skies lift a heavy fog

from evening shoulders

passing lines

and green street signs

–

late night

driving all around

better prop up these eyelids

so they had not fall down

–

the next day is no better

wake up late

in somewhat of a lucid state

but 5 a.m will take some time

to recover

my mind works slow

slower on those days

it stumbles through

with a velvet glaze

–

my eyes bloodshot

all around

last night was late

and there is still a ringing sound

–

i muster up the courage to write

let the words fall and thoughts take flight

i feel alright as my muscles warm

to poetry I return

with no care for content or form

–

that is where I stop

as vision blurring mind distort

better put the pen down

on days like today

it is best

to keep it short

The Incandescent Glow

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I can tell a story of distracting things

It starts with a computer screen

A little heart and a big machine

Pulling the eyes away from progress

To give the soul infinite distress

This mess is more than a simple collection

If it serves me correctly

I have what the doctors call

A technological infection

Of the mind and skin

Hair and eyes

Kinda hard to see into the digital skies

–

It moves slowly but then with clever purpose

You would never know if you looked at the surface

But the eyes become strained with every glance

I must try to pull away in this eager chance

In a trance my muscles begin to twitch

In evenings embrace

Face the truth and furry

That time has been stolen in such a hurry

Fingers nimble to touch keys resisting

A couple of circuits and boards

That’s all that’s in this thing

–

But is there more just maybe a bit

Because it seems to move me when I sit

Through years and years of information

It is a gazing ball

A wonder station

But pull the mind away from sweet laziness

Yet it pulls me back with a lovers caress

Soothes my thoughts and relaxes my feelings

Illuminating what is around me

And casting incandescent light on the ceiling

–

Reeling and reeling

I am surely swayed but the drug this things dealing

Eyes bloodshot on every side

Who would of thought

Wasn’t this supposed to be a simple ride

A ride through information past and present

With the ease of touch and oh so pleasant

But surely there is more than one option

Get away from this infection I am stopping

Songs must be written and collected

My art will not sustain me

I must go now

The art must be resurrected

–

But at the flip of a switch

Turn of a knob

The computer is off and silent

The incandescent glow ceases

And the quietness around me grows

I close my eyes and rub them open

That must be some crazy shit

I be smokin’

A Friends Place

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This was written about a recent stay that we, my fiance and myself, made out to LA to see one of my best friends from high school. In addition to being an extremely selfless and giving host – his place was so beautiful and relaxing. It was an amazing escape for what is a crazy city of LA. We had such a peaceful and relaxing time hanging with friends and just kicking it by his indoor fire. It was truly a great experience – I hope this can take you there for just a moment. Enjoy!

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A friends place

Can be as warm

And comforting

As the human embrace

–

With a makeshift bed

A simple place to sleep

All is well

When your livin’ cheap

–

But with every moment

Passing through these eyes

The sun in the morning

The evening skies

–

I notice the faces

Smiling all around

A humble abode

In this huge town

–

Shared towels

And washing machines

Life is so sweet

In these passing scenes

–

We get in late

Hitch a ride

Made it to LA

And it is about time

–

Crisp air

And summers familiar

I would take anything like this

Or anything similar

–

The morning we go for food

Meet some friends

Call some more

To meet at days end

–

Faces familiar

From a time ago

But we are still connected

Wherever we go

–

We enjoy a fire

Snapping soft and sweet

It makes for an easy

Evening treat

–

Life is simple

When sharing sustains

Can even take away

Some of life’s pains

–

Thank you can not match

It just falls short

You can’t just say

You’ve been a good sport

–

The city scene

Has been nice to me

A friend to host

With all sincerity

–

We made our way back home now

Hope to be back through

But for now

The only thing we have to say

Is thank you