11:57

11:57 The clock reads

Momentary and sedentary

I return to the road

We travel so often

Yet so unfamiliar

Unusual

The hope of unity

A collection of ideas

Almost perfect

But perfect in its imperfections

It has beauty despite moments

Of Lack of direction

Proceed on our journey

To find people

To share moments and peace

This is my idea to bring

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Muddle by Technology

Muddle and confusion

Marry the mellow quiet

With ruptured sounds of a digital empress

Defiant of the status quo

Holding on to the last of what was

What we used to know

The cell phone rings

Elbows locked in admiration

Swing around the border

Of the new order

Tech first feeling second

Defiant I remane

But I wonder what the world would be

With no technology

Would we be more advanced

If we were connected by glance

Instead of digital connection

A tacit code of life

Implied by technical lines

We are breakable and weak

In the eye of technology

Return to the Pages

Return to the pages

Settled in and getting away

Too long

Can get contagious

I don’t write

Due to lack of inspiration

Rather I am not writing

Because it has become

A lack of motivation

Unfamiliar sensation

But it is a coal covered jewel

Untouched as the days continue

First the idea sprouts

From mind to fingers

Scatters across the keys and onto the page

I resurrect the beast  laying dormant

Back to writing and enjoyment

With rest comes ideas

Ideas with time

And now it is time to return

To the pages

To the writing burn

 

 

Just on the Outskirts

Bradley is a happy man

He falls asleep on the island

To the sound of a bellowing fog horn

Cutting through the air as rich as worn leather

He awakes to coffee that envelops him

With a hug

Rather than a mere raspy handshake

He is content on the coast

Billowing up steam from a morning roast

Falling asleep as the fog crosshatches the eve sky

Across the bay

Happy till the day he may day

Rent control his eternal protection

Umbrella’s held in rather polite distinction

Humanity’s bustle he has no strict participation

Watching the sunrise

Heightened by windy anticipation

However the wind blows

On the edge of the sleepy little beach town

Bradley has it right

Bradley is a happy man

Just on the outskirts of San Fran

 

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

One, Two, Three

‘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…”

guitar_Fotor hazy

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

Unequivocally Cliche

I don’t believe the cliches

Until one day

I stop right in my tracks

Others unable to help

When I truly ask

How is it so unequivocally true

That one senses success

They become less understanding

Of what they can help and do

I never believed the silly cliches

Until this happened to me one day

Lost Light

When a light goes off

In a cold and distant sky

I look up

With wipe dried eyes

The world needs good people

Full of life and vibrancy

Courteous and full of decency

Does the world become darker

Or does it balance with new light

Finding new ones

The giving kind

For all of mankind

I hope that the lives of new souls

Bless the world

Wherever we go

For when we loose light

We now are the light

We must aspire to be bright

In a world that goes a little dimmer

When we loose a beautiful light

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