Complicated questions
On complicated days
Complicated thoughts
On complicated days
De-complicate me please
Set my uneasy thoughts at ease
Soon I will smell an autumn
New York City breeze
McCarren Park through the trees
De-complicate my fall
In the city
So I can enjoy the beauty
Of the pretty city
How many words can fit in this line
So many life experiences
In so little time
Underlined by growth
Participation
In the whole world
As a congregation
To sum up the last weeks adventures
I would have to surrender some details
Only focus on what come initially
Practically rather than brilliantly
I have flown over the ocean
Swam in the French Rivera
Been pummeled by rain
Been in a plane scared
Taken a train
Halfway across Europe
Eaten dinner out of small tin cups
Watch sunsets over the Mediterranean Sea
Seen things
I probably shouldn’t have seen
Watch a double rainbow extend over the mountains
While lovers kissed
Made friends
In true simpleness
Had conversations well past the finish line
Share a romance well past my time
All of these images
Are hard to fit in the lines
But I try
As the world changes my eyes
All things constant under the wool sky
Where do lost dreams go
From the heads of dreamers
To the world outflow
Do dreams dry up and fall away
Do dreams pack up on a rainy day
Is there a collection of dreams
On the other side of time
Or gently recycled
What was once yours
Is now mine
Do dreams rest well below the sand
Never to be unearthed or seen again
Fall like autumn leaves on a cold day
Raked together and thrown away
Or do they linger around
Like the smell of smoke in an old town car
Can you see them trying to survive
Like summer grass planted late in July
Do they hold any hope of reimurging
Like dreams floating up and resurging
Or do dreams walk away quietly
Not disrupting the feelings inside me
Or do they burn out bright and wildly
Dreams exist
Dreams must not die
It gives me hope
To run fast or fly
Some are real
Some uncertain
Take the time
Pull back the curtain
In each of us I am certain
Behind humanities weary seam
We will find
Each one of us has a dream
A case of distracting news
One that one can not simply refuse
The future of art
Is held in the arms of one minds repose
Unknowingly unknown
Somehow the highest calling
Is called from a distant awning
The creation of art
To focus on filters
Rather than a focus in part
Somehow the filters of heard and unheard
Call out some higher prestige fallen
On a certain selection of words
The construction of words
All hail to the critics
It’s all pretty sick
A devastating form of salutation
Pounding into my mind
I hold back the gates
Unfiltered
Untamed
I learned from my mistakes
The best form of creation
Happens in pure refinement
In an attempt to fasten the muscles
To make a call to creation
A new creation in the making
Cecil the Lion was slain
By nothing more than a human stain
Utmost disrespect paid
In each US dollar
Held all the locals
By the fabric of their collar
To get his intended target
He came prepared with padded pocket
I could barely stand to hear it
While he enjoyed to watch it
It is an unfortunate play
A game of intended consequence
Now we have one more reckless action
To answer for
It makes the honor of being American
Feel more destined to sicken me
Than free me
We now wear another badge of recklessness
Story of money paid for another nations trophy
Coldly executed
Lured out and destroyed
This making a living plucking plaque
Pleases himself with the attack
Of a icon
A symbol
Go ahead and cash it in your criminal
Let the fluorescent lights of your office
Offer a scathing reminder
That no bleach can undue
Hang your trophy on the shelf
But please never forgive yourself
Oh the joy of redemption
To give life a exultant expression
When it pushes you to the end
Past the point of a simple bend
To the breaking convex
Not easy but rather complex
It gives back
One small ounce
To help push the mind
From the weathered mounds
The joy that can be felt
When life tries to help you out
Picks you up a bit
After seeing you almost drown
I am happy for these days
To be enjoyed and endured
To see a light in the woods
When all of life seemed unsure
The country mind
Somehow growing up dreaming of the city
The bright lights
Open all night
The bustle of people
And feeling alright
Yet differently
How the city mind
Grows up dreaming of the country fields
Wind swept
Vast land appeal
There is no perfect remedy to this deal
For one desires the other
For the other can never be
What the city life provides
The country life will never be
So fill life full with many experiences
Long for the city
Long for the fields
The experiences we gain
We be our minds true yield
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
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
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
A Cup of Songwriting 