Bequeathed

I cry cowardly over my leather shoes

The moan of hateful speech

Beacons a new wrath

The exotic clover has grown

Dried up and shriveled

Bequeathed

For the next generation

A sensational generation

My hope and dream

So I do my part in planting hope and optimism

Even in this world of ever deep division

Our hopes and dreams

Bequeathed from our fathers and mothers

Have been squandered away

On cheap things

 

 

 

 

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The Rally Cry of the Tired

The rally cry of the tired

A worthy cause flamed out with vigor

Passing floating rolling

I have tried

To do good

Good to be undone

So much has to rely on a rally cry

When your tired

And lonely

Not alone

You feel sad

Disconnected from the world

How did it work out not the way it was

All planned

A plane in flight unmanned

The plane now is in the final descent

It will land

How

Unknown

But through all of this

I

We

Have grown

Grown up

So here we come

Back to Brooklyn

The smell of linens

Warmed hot in driers

Lamp post

Stuck with weekend fliers

Rusted out steel on buildings facade

Bustling traffic on Kenmare

I make my way to the Williamsburg Bridge

Over the eastern edge

And back to Brooklyn

No more than a bed

To call my own

The only options are rent

No hopes to own

So our time here is quick

Subtle and sweet

Seeing some familiar

Faces out on the street

The people still hustle

Just as I remember

Checking in 2 months past

September

The city sways easy in Autumn leaves

Until it will soon be our time to leave

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

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

The Target of a Padded Pocket

Cecil the Lion was slain

By nothing more than a human stain

Utmost disrespect paid

In each US dollar

Held all the locals

By the fabric of their collar

To get his intended target

He came prepared with padded pocket

I could barely stand to hear it

While he enjoyed to watch it

It is an unfortunate play

A game of intended consequence

Now we have one more reckless action

To answer for

It makes the honor of being American

Feel more destined to sicken me

Than free me

We now wear another badge of recklessness

Story of money paid for another nations trophy

Coldly executed

Lured out and destroyed

This making a living plucking plaque

Pleases himself with the attack

Of a icon

A symbol

Go ahead and cash it in your criminal

Let the fluorescent lights of your office

Offer a scathing reminder

That no bleach can undue

Hang your trophy on the shelf

But please never forgive yourself

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

The Single Bird on the Avenue

A single bird flies down Manhattan Avenue

2 wings flapping strong in the wind

Gentle acceleration

Calling out lightly at 6 AM

Such stillness can exist in the city

High hitting trains come to a stop

To see this small bird perched atop

The brownstones of Brooklyn

Resting its wings

To begin it’s ritual sing

Lighten the roads with laughter

The clanking of iron clad walls

Retracted

Open for business now

Seemingly attractive

Deliveries on time and delayed

Now I rush out the door

To see the bird fly away

If You Let the World

If you let the world

Serve you bad coffee

It most certainly will

Some may blast this as

Pretentious

But be cautious

As my case I present

I walked slowly

Rolling into the cafe

Dim lit on my way

Through Illinois and Iowa

I could just tell from the sight of her

It was not going to be easy

Uneasy was the feeling

Her stare into mine

But I had to wonder

Is it worth my time

To ask for something

Other than a glass of turpentine

I realized this rush was no longer

About coffee or personality

I was unsure if I was afraid

If I should abate my post

Where were these feelings

Overwhelming me

Like the holy ghost

She could tell I was uneasy

Pushed hard for me to move on

In a quick minute my mind had reacted

I was going to let her

Her

Win

I was not going to step out of line

I would rather walk away disgruntled

Than to let her get her energy infused to mine

As I walked away and the next customer approached

After I was dismally reproached

In such light and airy way she won her way

Exacting my energy from my eyes I would say

I opened the door for my fail grandeur

She managed her own will on mine

I was let down

But I soon learned in the quickness of time

It is with certainty

That I can speak certainly

If I do not speak certainly

Than uncertainty will belittle my will

This will leave my ego and soul ill filled

So when the world attempts to push you down

From a simple coffee – blurred old brown

Don’t let the light be pushed away

Sometimes the light is needed

Confidence displayed

The world will accept you

And not push you back

Instead of slowly whimpering

“I’ll just drink my coffee black”

Simple Flake

The time it takes

For one simple flake

To make its way

Down the streets of New York

Falling carelessly to the ground

Over the Empire State

Shoveling below

Cracking sound

Filling the streets with heavy

Steady and steady

Falling so hard

I can barely make out

One World Trade

In a storm for the ages

Barren isles of food in the store

We bear down the hatches

And get ready

For just a little more