I don’t believe the cliches
Until one day
I stop right in my tracks
Others unable to help
When I truly ask
How is it so unequivocally true
That one senses success
They become less understanding
Of what they can help and do
I never believed the silly cliches
Until this happened to me one day
When a light goes off
In a cold and distant sky
I look up
With wipe dried eyes
The world needs good people
Full of life and vibrancy
Courteous and full of decency
Does the world become darker
Or does it balance with new light
Finding new ones
The giving kind
For all of mankind
I hope that the lives of new souls
Bless the world
Wherever we go
For when we loose light
We now are the light
We must aspire to be bright
In a world that goes a little dimmer
When we loose a beautiful light
There are days
When the end lays ahead
A clear finish
Instead of a benchmark
Days when my soul can rest easy
My mind I can appease
Yet on other days
There is this
Infinite tease being played on me
This mind wander
Aways second guessed
Slowing thoughts helps to
Slow emotions
That if I can just reach one goal
At a time
I don’t have to set every single one
In motion
So on these days I try to slow down
Realize even walking is an even pace
On this Infinite Race
The late night salute
4 AM
Late night eyes
To boot
We dance with our technology
Until the wee hours
Entangled in a web
On a web
Every last fiber in my head
Connected
Needing the next moment
I own it
This is the way I spend the hours
Working
Trying to connect the un connectable
While my head is full
Eyes bloodshot and wide
Hair frayed
Dismayed
Until my head is laid
This is the routine
I try to break out
But something new is always breaking in
There is no loss no win
Just spending every last hour
Until the night runs thin
The scent of change
Came at 4 AM
I rolled over in my bed
“When was the last time
I smelled the fresh bread”
At this point I was completely
In my head
I knew the change was coming
The bakery was on its way out
I still had one small shriveled doubt
Maybe the planned buyout
Was not as good of a plan
They would develop a alternate route
As I lay awake
Thinking
It had been at least a week
So I cracked the curtain to take
A quick peek
The burnt carmel building
Was at a complete standstill
I could see this from
My windowsill
Never again would the smell of
Fresh bread bellow
Down Manhattan Avenue
It was a nice offset to bus exhaust
But now it is lost
Lost
Gone
I am new here
I own that I have very airy feelings
Where others die-cast old love
Would feel it in there hearts much above
I can remember
When my wife and I stopped in
Knocked on the door
A man came out from within
Gave him a 5 spot and
Us a loaf
We stood on the corner
Eating it whole
The memory was the brightest
Of the few short lived time
But the old place is gone
Make way for the condos
Pack it up and move on
Thank God for public transportation
This revelation
Is one of the finest gems
The beauty of the capital of the nation
We are able to move swiftly
Through station
Feet connected to floors
Cold and eternally soaked
To the floorboards of the railcars
A collective quiet continuum
Running from face to face
Some disinterested
Wearing discontent well on their face
Underneath the city
There is a currency of space
Being given and taken
Awarded and mistaken
The sole private goal
Of a seat on a reasonable Subway
Some would just rather pay
Because there is always the lingering
Unreasonable chance
That the cart is filled in advance
But we stagger on
With the commidty of space low
Take it slow
Get on the train
Pull away,
Go
In hopes of doing good
Doing everything you should
Stood proper ready for arrival
But in between every single line
Stands the true test of mankind
Finitely undivine
Some poor fellow with bright light
Shines upon a small error
Eroded and undone
Your lips begin to tighten
As you realize you have failed
At this one chaps small finding
I strive for the perfection
Perfection as far as my detection
But there will always be
Other perspectives
That feel less connected
Intersected with our vision
Even though I do my best
With good will and intention
There is nothing that can prevent
This holier than thou
Intervention
At the creaking of dawn
Semis bustle through the Avenue
Men with covered faces
Lift heavy loads unto empty spaces
Filling slowly with goods for shipment
Equipment, papers, dies, casts
I sometimes wonder what is in the
Buildings just over the Ave.
So much mystery
Only 5 feet from me
Whether they are transporting toxic chemicals
The smells
Oh the smells
The streets outlined with built mounds
Of snow
Paths created from where the tires roll
I have this realization
That I really know so little about my neighborhood
My nation
And it all came to me
From my view
On Manhattan Avenue
“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
Every blistering second
Count down from 10 to nine
Hold my breathe
I think it will be alright
Nine to eight
Walk forward again
Push through the door
Early rather than late
Eight to seven
Straighten myself up
Give all I am given
Seven to Six
The frustration and challenge
Getting worn in
Just for kicks
Six to five
Hold my head up
Stay alive
Five to four
Only 3 more
Four to three
Look everyone in the eye
From your heart let it be
Three to two
Now I am alone here
I must see this through
Two to one
One more and I am done
One to zero
A Cup of Songwriting 