There comes a point
When the life you dream
Becomes the life you live
There is no slowing down
No retreat
What you have to give
Must be in high quality
And on repeat
The dedication becomes meditation
Reaching for the highest moment
Unknown
The moments continue to grow
To make new opportunities
The moments can be less
About what you do
They begin to define
You
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 bells gently toll along Brooklyn Streets
Reminding us
That this city celebrates and grieves
Lives and breathes
From my studio
You hear the city life come to light
Lighting the sky
Filling the rooms
Walking down Manhattan Avenue
The fog wears heavy on the Manhattan Skyline
Tucked away from view
A sleepy afternoon
The memories of my life
Will be created here
Not in Paris or Tokyo
Rather just east of the Hudson
Learning to go from walking to runnin’
All under the ringing bells
of Brooklyn
Oh the heart strings
Pulled in every way
Frayed
Dismayed and overplayed
I relish past moments
With pleasure
Small delights
Love beheld in my eyes
Yet it is lies
Nothing more
Nothing less
Just a quest into the past
No answers given
No questions asked
But in a very uneasy way
There is always lust
In such great nostalgia
What is past is past
What is gone is lost
What I want I will take
What is left I will leave
It’s just another little
Sentimental Tease
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
Satisfied corruption
Don’t take someones word
On automatic assumption
Humanity will rise and fall
Some will tell the truth
Others a false call
Will ring on every persons ears
The willing or unable
Confident or full of fear
It is this small eruption
Will ill will
Built in conjunction
When you are on the receiving end
Beaten down
Will and resilience must not bend
It will happen on a Monday
Or Today
Or any day
For the needs of the liar
Will surely set
Your belly on fire
The purpose behind
The green outside
In a winter morning
Simple prose upon warming
Keep inspiration flowing
The more you make
It’s yields keep growing
So at 9:20 AM
Hoping for a new set
Of inspiration
Looking for new adventures of writing
Looking low
Hoping the ideas are not hiding
I let my fingers and mind go
And this is what it has to behold
When complete indecision
Supersedes the incision
Of which
We inject ourselves into the world
Launched
Taken off
We will run
Fast, hard, and lean
Towards the summation
The local or destination
Our minds will not sleep
Nor our hearts give
Any
Resignation
Until we find our ends
In this one fine nation
Questions will be asked
Notions given
Whether we are losing
Or we are winning
Hello world
Let’s become friends
We learn from our mistakes
Now and then
But tonight we begin
We no longer hesitate
To wake in the morning
And shake hands
With our new fate
Early morning cracks on heavy eyes
Looking up hoping for a singular light in the sky
Wood creeks under foot and weight
Sleep vanished bewilder from alarm frustrate
Rise to another challenge another call
Rise one
Rise all
Days must be achieved rather than forgotten
A day awake
Rather than a day rotten
I will heed this plastic cases call
Resting on the bedside table
Rather than a wall
The dreaded alarm clock calls
Come one
Come all
A Cup of Songwriting 