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

A City Cup

The delicate bliss

Of chlorine

Mixed with a mild coffee bean

Acidic and complex

Every element sampled and contained

The foggy windows from a morning rain

Even the exhaust from the street

Owns a part all the same

The complexity of a coffee in Brooklyn

Is yet a bit more tedious

You can feel this

Sweet berry high notes

With cleaning residue

Somehow city coffee is just

As good as you can do

From drops off the grinds

To a coffee cup warm and kind

City coffee is it’s own sampling

Of all the air fresh and old

A city cup

Hearty and bold

A Night in Brooklyn

“I will FUCKING KILL YOU”

The words bellow from the belly

Of the loosely dressed man

On Manhattan Ave

Across from Manhattan Inn

Enough vigor and resolute

To carry the words to my own

Windowsill

I crept to the window

The man seemed unwell

Ill

I couldn’t make it out the clear

Words strung about a 100 bill

“Why don’t you come over here”

“See who the real man is”

The street lights illuminate his

Contorted face

I pull back from the window screen

He glances in my direction

As he walks towards Manhattan Ave.

And Nassau intersection

I am fully engaged at this point

This rage within this man

Has the whole neighborhood up at

2 AM

Cars rumble past blurring

What was said

What was heard

I could only faintly here but a word

All this rage and anger

Over a C note

On that note I better get back to bed

Whatever he had said

It was life in the form of entertainment

I am not upset from the loss of sleep

Just tired

Whatever kept that man up

Had really shook him

On just another night

In Brooklyn

Ignorance of Conscience

Once a wonderer

Now forever lost

Is possible to go far

And near

Yet never be settled

Running from love

Hope

Fear

It’s a game of chess

With no pieces

Or what is there

Must be interpreted

No meaning

No beginning

No end

I don’t understand

I can’t

When one lusts for every moment

Every fleeting thought

Nothing becomes concrete

No desire

Objectifying

Denying any sense of self worth

For what its worth

To claim ignorance

Fleeting thoughts from ones conscience

Delay rather than develop

Bringing all but hell up

With the loved ones around

It seems low

The life keeps swirling down

I ask

Futile in my attempts

So sometimes I just wonder

What is once a wanderer

Can be now

Forever lost

Finitely Undivine

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

Manhattan Avenue

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

Awaiting the Snow

Mine for the taking

Undertaking

Sincerity or faking

I withstand the scene

Seen on every TV

Commercial or contact layer

Layered with talk

Talking heads

As I wonder my own destiny

I neither own nor know

What lies beneath, below

I watch more heads talk

And await another round of snow

Tokens of Life

What is the cost of a dream

Not the capital or the initial investment

More importantly the hours laboring and spent

Rather than being well rested

What is the emotional cost

Is it two tokens

If I could somehow come up with a value

Two tokens of life

If it all works out do you get those back and more

Are you delivered from seeing your time

Wasted in hopes of achieving

Rather than just ending poor

And broken

What is the average

Per day

If not achieved is it wasted

Thrown away

Can I accept this

Failure is only owned when you label it

Give it a name and recognize it

But I refuse to do so

Call it reckless

But this is how it goes

I must continue on this path

Continue to let go

To see anything through

Through and renewed

To see what these life tokens can do

Hand Smoked Heat

Back to Chicago

Toll road to the city strolls

Winds blowing street tires

Filled with air pushing forward

The trips become a frequent chore

We open doors to adjust leather seats

Broken in and ripped

Hand smoked heat from summer shores

Semis headed off to 94

As we head for Lakeshore

Same city

Same sound

Familiar from the skyline to the broken ground

Chicago

My first city

Lake Michigan shores

We head back once more

 

Goodbye to a Great

Goodbye to a great

Such beauty and grace

With one stroke of the hand made

Painting pictures of words

On a blank page

Homage and prayers

Thoughts and emotions

Go out to Maya Angelou

As she swims her way

Into the eternal ocean

All poets or writers aspire

To live life full

Full of inspiration

Admiration

Creation

To walk in footsteps that have gone before

Do homage to her craft

From one poem or a simple draft

We lost an eternal light in our short lives

But we are thankful for what she had

What she shared

She made us better

She cared

Inspiration she has set on fire

The more you create

The more you desire

I hope to be 1/10th of the person she was

I send a message out to sea

To Maya her love and example

Set us all a bit more

Free