The Greatest Descent

What is safety

Pushed away unsafely

City streets stirred up and shady

It seems a story slams the headlines


The feeling is uneasy

Slightly crazy

How is it that civilization

Can never be quite content

Individuals looking for a reason

For the greatest descent

Wake up on Monday morning

The headlines read

3 men attacked with guns

On the streets

New York City

In the highest of high rises

No reason to sympathize

For one foolish man

Can bring down the hearts of 3

Right on the streets of the city

Disputes, commutes, early mornings

No sudden warning

My wife and I were only 4 miles away

Uneasy it seems these days

Life can be short of pretty

On tough days in New York City


Forgotten Ground

The greatest of all challenges

Of my generation

Will be to see a life we once had

Nod to a fleeting moment

That the future has no place for the past

Endless consumption could never last

In the place of old habits

Birth new minimal ways

To say

That we no desire what we need

Rather than the desire of heart

We will fight our inner conflict

Lives lived between iron curtains thick

Of inter web communities

It will the true call of unity

When we give up a hand

Rather than an app 

We come back to making the US great

Rebuild and innovate

That is my hope 

Upon decimated buildings 

We can build a new future

With knife and suture we will repair our wounds

Unto prosperity bound

From town to town

Reclaim forgotten ground

Unattainable Repose

The elusive ghost

Chased through streets

Competing with our hands


Mouths open and close

Drifting words hung

Before the evening repose

This unattainable drifting ghost

My soul collapses on Wednesday

To only renew the next day

The brittleness of surviving

Well below the standards of

Living well and thriving

Conniving thoughts land soft

When arriving

Then dismissed in the thought abyss

Of carrying on

This day I just long for easy nights

Well rested then feeling alright

Keeping the feelings down

In my mind

In time

I will find

A rhyme of words

To keep me ahead

Instead of walking


In moments of desperation

It’s feet ahead

Eyes wide open

To just keep on trying

A Night in Brooklyn


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


I crept to the window

The man seemed unwell


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

The Commodity of Space

Thank God for public transportation

This revelation

Is one of the finest gems

The beauty of the capital of the nation

We are able to move swiftly

Through station

Feet connected to floors

Cold and eternally soaked

To the floorboards of the railcars

A collective quiet continuum

Running from face to face

Some disinterested

Wearing discontent well on their face

Underneath the city

There is a currency of space

Being given and taken

Awarded and mistaken

The sole private goal

Of a seat on a reasonable Subway

Some would just rather pay

Because there is always the lingering

Unreasonable chance

That the cart is filled in advance

But we stagger on

With the commidty of space low

Take it slow

Get on the train

Pull away,


Awaiting the Snow

Mine for the taking


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

Three Letter Prose

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


Hails the Sun

The skyline hails the sun
In a stretch upwards
Calling the blue from the moon
Orange flecks gold over the estuary arm
Setting for the even
The empire reaches high and mighty
As the east river ferry barrels through
The wind stricken water
The brooklyn bridge reaches Manhattan
Strong and grounded
As planes launch from the ground
One world trade as new as a baby in the sky
Brooklyn in the back
Heralding the spring night
The rocks
Tucked with miss on the Brooklyn beach
On a Friday night
In New York City


Miles from Bed

A thousand miles from my bed
Beat up
Bout dead
Blood shot eyed poker
Playing games other my mind
Looking for signs that I am close
To home
Make it in just 7 hours
Through the powers of flight
Through the night I coast
Trying to get home alone
To be joined with my lover
Upon arrival
Greeted with kisses
Back from the road
Because it’s her I’m missin
Airplane skid marks
Over national landmarks
In just a few hours
I will be home