Non Brokered Life Decisions

Non brokered life decisions

Going broke

With entitlements given

We hope upon life grandeur

The vestments of blessings

Hopefully lay ahead

Life uncertain

Is better than certain

Mentally dead

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Uneasy Life Matters

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

65th Anniversay

It was a conspicuous Sunday

Evident by the uneasy morning

I could tell this was not a resting day

A day of farewell was on the way

My Grandfather who earlier had lost

His only lover

Only 12 days away

From the 65th anniversary

He was on a mission

To hold his heart into submission

So on the 28th

He could launch from this land

To be with his lover on the anniversay

Hold her hand

True his love had lost the love of life

For the one true love of his life

His wife

He was ever determined

One thing for certain

He would not show up late

Wave to the gate holding dignitary

As he must be with his wife

On their 65th anniversay

Greasy Hand Salutation

The fast food fascination

Greasy hand salutation

Black fingernail sludge

With no regard

Just a lopsided smudge

How many mouths enjoy

What the corporate supply chain

Has fed down the drain

From this repulsive trap

We consume such meat

Prestige as if it where a treat

Not one question is asked

Until the collective conscience

Is fully grasped

Then we become more aware

More in tune

Of what is going on in the room

By then our bellies are full of antibiotics

The green eyed optics

Somehow we agreed to this tender

Although we never saw

The face of the sender

With Love

I see the headlines

Death and violence

Run rampantly

The morning

I crack my eyes open

As the world bombards me

All this violence

Is all my eyes see

Violence for fame

Violence as a game

Violence on Social Media

Violence is what the media is feeding you

Or have we become more barbariac

In the way we live

Willing to do whatever it takes

Taking other lives

Even though it is not ours to give

Guns

So many guns

We fear each other now

More than the burning flame in the sky

The sun

Daughters and sons

We are all one of the above

We can not fate hate with hate

Rather with love

Unknowingly Unknown

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

Burgeon of Beauty

A Burgeon of Beauty

Holding hands on a Friday night

Been a long time

But time has not stop us

From feeling alright

Long nights away

From each others side

Dark highways have no way

Of holding you tight

Then comes sickness

Challenges ensue

Conversations float from silly

To the serious

And seriously overdue

In life there is always exchanges

Love and time

For money and statue

Little do we see the hard earned love

Behind the golden statues

The giving hands

Can only give so may gifts

Tonight we hold each other

Closer than before

Loneliness melts

Falling off

Feeling grief no more

It’s a silent seed of love

That we maintain

In a life of give and take

Under the weight and strain

A Sweltering Embrace

The long sweat drips down my face

Leaving a trace

A vibrant jet stream

Cooling attempts being made

The sun spares no shade

On a New York City day

People walk carelessly

Trying not to perspire

None at all is desired

The subways bellow a thick

Steam as you enter in

Blowing the summer wind

Not much you can do

To evade

Or catch any shade from the heat

It is a element of highest rank

Infiltrating the smallest space

Under the heat of summer

With a sweltering embrace

Sympathetic Inflections

I am no controlled spirit

Untamed and overgrown

My emotions can be so

Easily swung

Not the words that I am

Proud of

Not in pride am I congested

When I am over zealous

My heart can be to little

Protected

How is it that the same tricks

With new names

Can catch a heart beat

All the same

If I could only go under cover

Into my own deepest detections

Pull out the weakest of

Sympathetic

Inflections

So rather than pick up

The pieces from hopes unmet

I could let my heart down easy

Lay it to rest gentle

While it’s quiet on the set

However my heart will wrestle me

At every turn

Up and down

It’s always involved

Every choice

All around

One, Two, Three

‘Up, one, two, three…”

Rest

I wonder how long I can do this

Just maintain

Sustain a healthy life

What about my career

Am I headed in the right direction

Ah f*ck directions

‘Up, one, two, three…”

Rest

I wonder if we will make rent this week

Can we afford to get some food tonight

I am sure we will be alright

Last time I checked we were

‘Up, one, two, three…”

Rest

I can’t believe how sore I am today

Walking over 5 miles a day

It’s a little much

To work and play

But I am tough

I am a New Yorker

‘Up, one, two, three”

Rest

4 workouts in a weeks

Trying to keep my body in peak shape

Just for the strength I need

To carry on life

To make progess where I thought

I could make none

Back

‘Up, one, two, three…”

guitar_Fotor hazy