In 4 minutes I will attempt
To write words
Strung together with
Some meaning
My eyes are stuck to the screen
Gleaming
Written in an attempt to say
What I have postponed along the way
Returning to ritual
Feels good
Yet not unusual
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
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
The inconsolable sociopath
Taking note of what to destroy
Along the path
It is sad
That little can be done for such sadness
How can I reflect on my own faults
Weaknesses and shortcomings
Undone and left for incomplete
I wake in the morning
To refine the nimbleness of the fingers
Mind and stretch the soul
I will admit that my own weakness
Is that I can not slow down
Take hold
But if we search for only the shortcomings
Of one another
We will be sorely disappointed
None can claim perfection as a profession
Such naysayers can have such perfusion
A fusion feeding the needing soul
Passing through this life
Looking for the simple imperfections to hold on to
I pass over this
Wake up again and let it go to rest
There is only so much stress
I stay cool
Under the real life test
On a Tuesday afternoon
I start to feel my hope slip away
Just a bit
It’s that tiny voice it will say
To drudge on in a world uncertain
Don’t give up now
Please don’t pull the curtain
But when I walk down the street
My heart heavy in my chest
The little voice can’t be heard
Can’t be heard anymore
Even when I give it my best
I try to reinvigorate what may be lost
Walking on Manhattan Ave
Damn rents got me down
On such high costs
That I just have to focus on breath
In and out
I can make it through this day
I have not one doubt
I must rekindle the light words
That once rung in my ears
What was once a mighty roar
I just now barely hear
There it is
Spilled my coffee again
In a rush
To make it out
Into the thin
Brittle cold air
Of a New York morning
I reset myself
I should give them some forewarning
Grab some paper towel
I’m already 10 minutes late
If the G is on time that is
My mind begins to race
Such a simple morning
Now turns into complicated maneuvers
I watch the bright white paper towels
Turn to a more rusted out brown
Take a sip of my coffee
Then set it down
In the trash and out the door
I hear the train horn
I run down the stairs
In the old turnstile
With the attendant half asleep
Make the train
Only by a couple of feet
Early morning callings
Waking up from dreams
Rain hits glass soft clipping steam
I think of what 2015 brings
2014 brought many things
New life
Loss of life
Friends
Reminding me that not every new year
Is your friend
But with age comes time
And with time age
Lives are born
While others taken away
So I lay in bed
2 days into the new year
Hope for the best
Hold back my fears
Of what time may bring me
with the New Year
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
Building rows
Of three letter prose
Steady up
And steady grows
Sunday Mornings wane lightly
Just enough momentum
To get flying
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner
In the midst of a mild winter
Growing up
But not growing old
This is how the week
Slowly lulls me back
Ready to begin
Again
The slightest hesitation
Bound up in eternal
Procrastination
One moment later
Can be a true difference maker
When realizing what will be my mark
Leftover when I am through
Will I have waited
For some long awaited hopes
Or woken at dawn
To climb the morning ropes
Destiny has to relation
For those caught up
In hesitation
A Cup of Songwriting 