Is there space on the bus
Moving in one straight line
In space and time
All along
While the bell rings
From the yellow line
All the way down the roads
As the old chains creek and pull
The linear bus and its passengers
Freewheeling
At last
Such a lonely job
With a short description
A round sad face
In a Rockwell exhibition
With tears at the computer
And no real sign of life
In his eyes
Just trying to make the call
Get by
With a new promotion or design
Thinking now of how to resign
With dignity and praise
For these are his final days
Reasonable Christmas
With a happy start
With minds open
To the lines read from the sky
Happy friends and family
In great consultation
Avoiding politics
Or resignation
For a meager celebration
Hands together
For its a reasonable Christmas
Given the weather
The course bank
Amongst the ranks
Of the young and old
Playing it up straight
Holding on hold
The debts owed
To the course bank
In time repaid
Or confiscated
When the winners lose
And the other waited
Pigeon gains
Importing new clothes
And merchants
On the shores of Lake Michigan
In the December cold
All around the city
I’m told
The talk of the merchandise
Pigeons
They are on the news
Heard of the businessmen rats too
Stall exhibition
No prohibition
Problems made
With no resolve
We have to grow
And evolve
Stalling out
Over the holidays
For the world can say
What a great nothing
What a moment to cease
All of that just to
Keep the peace
Rowing on the frozen shores
I salute the moving rebellion
Steadfast in moving fast
Making decisions
For now and the future
The rebellion lives on
With or without you
I keep my brow low
As the ore slaps the water
And thrust the team onward
Into the morning fog
“Wanderlust”
The paltry destruction
Dirty and tan
Unknown in expression
But less heard of
I am uncertain
Pushing my own hands now on the curtain
I have never seen such an obtainable truth
If we could only see it through
We must take command of our own hands
Yearn for hope and truth
Unity through diversity
Diversity in me and you
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
