Back at it again
It’s the name of the game
Fears and road blocks
Float away like melodies
Melodies in the easy wind
I come back to the writing
Uneasy and writhing
But the words fall from my mind
To my hand
Drift from a lovers hope
All the way back up the rope
I start back up
Like a stiff old startup
Rise up
And write again
Where do lost dreams go
From the heads of dreamers
To the world outflow
Do dreams dry up and fall away
Do dreams pack up on a rainy day
Is there a collection of dreams
On the other side of time
Or gently recycled
What was once yours
Is now mine
Do dreams rest well below the sand
Never to be unearthed or seen again
Fall like autumn leaves on a cold day
Raked together and thrown away
Or do they linger around
Like the smell of smoke in an old town car
Can you see them trying to survive
Like summer grass planted late in July
Do they hold any hope of reimurging
Like dreams floating up and resurging
Or do dreams walk away quietly
Not disrupting the feelings inside me
Or do they burn out bright and wildly
Dreams exist
Dreams must not die
It gives me hope
To run fast or fly
Some are real
Some uncertain
Take the time
Pull back the curtain
In each of us I am certain
Behind humanities weary seam
We will find
Each one of us has a dream
The barges float along Lake Michigan
Full of metals heavy and rusted
As the sun sets up the day
The water subdued
What natures made
We undue
The smokey waves of Ogden Dunes
On the horizon set
Cast iron red eaves
Made with crashing steam
It’s a night in the lake of industry
Set in a land of
Beautiful infamy
The simplicity
Of a satisfaction distraction
On path
For an encore at the end
Of the work
Keep our hands covered
Like the county clerk
Jobs over perspective
It will be a shame in the great
Retrospective
For now we entertain our minds
With a immediate need
Rather than the sign of the times
Our in action becomes a soothing
Distraction
I hold hope that we can realize
That the ice caps melt
Our simple wants
Are going to be answered
While our deafening blow is dealt
Rise hope for future generations
Mine is caught in stagnation
Throughout thr nation
We watch
We hope
We think
Yet our delayed reaction
To a satisfaction distraction
‘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…”
The elusive ghost
Chased through streets
Competing with our hands
Feet
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
Flying
In moments of desperation
It’s feet ahead
Eyes wide open
To just keep on trying
My brain in a bottle of kombucha on a ride through the rockies
Fermented and pressurized ready to explode
Some days my mind winds up so fast
With nowhere to go
Those days seem to be the most frustrating
Deranging
Planning becomes insufficient
My minds moves quicker than a prayer to St. Vincent
Contingent on results
That can no be provided quick enough
To ease my worried thoughts
I wish I was more thought delayed
Taking my days with quite more ease
Rather than trying to just run away
The mind can be a mild pond or a ravenous sea
Somehow I am the one who decides
It’s ultimately up to me
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
The inconsolable sociopath
Taking note of what to destroy
Along the path
It is sad
That little can be done for such sadness
How can I reflect on my own faults
Weaknesses and shortcomings
Undone and left for incomplete
I wake in the morning
To refine the nimbleness of the fingers
Mind and stretch the soul
I will admit that my own weakness
Is that I can not slow down
Take hold
But if we search for only the shortcomings
Of one another
We will be sorely disappointed
None can claim perfection as a profession
Such naysayers can have such perfusion
A fusion feeding the needing soul
Passing through this life
Looking for the simple imperfections to hold on to
I pass over this
Wake up again and let it go to rest
There is only so much stress
I stay cool
Under the real life test
The fuss of the day
Quite offsetting I would say
Strayed from what is ideal
To the real creation of an idea
2 ideas get away
Understood that not everything can be so perfect
So I will work with it
We make our day ideal
No matter what’s cards are intertwined
In the deal
A Cup of Songwriting 