One, Two, Three

‘Up, one, two, three…”


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…”


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…”


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”


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


‘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


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

Anomoly of Jackhammers

Eyes slap open

With the crack of the jackhammer

It’s 9 AM

Monday in the City

I rush over to close the small gap

In the window

The loud crash of shovels

Iron cast on asphalt

Giant machines with splendid

Saws, jacks, and hammers

Traffic held back

While the men hit the ground

With cement hammers

The window to the city

Has shown so much to me

It is a true story

Yet an untold anomaly

Of jackhammers

I grew up in the soft quiet fields on Indiana

Acquaint myself

To the new sounds

Of my surroundings

Creaking of Dawn

At the creaking of dawn

Semis bustle through the Avenue

Men with covered faces

Lift heavy loads unto empty spaces

Filling slowly with goods for shipment

Equipment, papers, dies, casts

I sometimes wonder what is in the

Buildings just over the Ave.

So much mystery

Only 5 feet from me

Whether they are transporting toxic chemicals

The smells

Oh the smells

The streets outlined with built mounds

Of snow

Paths created from where the tires roll

I have this realization

That I really know so little about my neighborhood

My nation

And it all came to me

From my view

On Manhattan Avenue

Edible Recylced Toys

You know I don’t eat that anymore

The smell of processed meats

Leaking through the cracked door

Orange yellow eggs smashed in

Not quite sure if it the slightest smell of plastic

That did me in

Logs of meat hammered out

Full of sodium bicarbonates

The thoughts just frustrates

But on Sunday mornings the family still enjoys

The processed meats

Made from recycled toys



























Practice, tired, questions, confidence, excitement





Drive, Perform, Drive




Other Lights

The sight of distraction

Slightly amusing


Unknown desires

Lit through eyes

Seeking goods

Owned or

For hire

Yet we pry ourselves away

To relent to yet another day

That we have what we need

We own what we know

We have made our choices

So for other lights

We let go