Tag Archives: gaming

2 Dollar Barefoot Friend

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My 2 dollar barefoot friend

Say’s don’t forget the gift he sent

I don’t give these away cheap

For this gift I give you now

Was once mine to keep

Is the best I have to offer

Not much monetary

All my pockets could carry

With no shoes on my feet

Keeping my limbs clean

Not a requirement

A choice rather

To stay simple and connected

So on bare feet I stand

Resurrected

He imparted simple knowledge

With a gift of simple patronage

In a coffee house with steam buzzing

People talking

Computer keys chirping

My 2 dollar barefoot friend stood standing

Connected to the ground

In a way so organic and true

His motivation true

Eyes keen on anti-convention

Somehow he felt more alive

With a true world connection

As the night got late he carried on

I went my way he went his

But his two dollar bill

Was his gift to give

And the simplicity of

A barefoot connection

 

Take a Look

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Let’s take a look at the headlines

The twitter feeds

Handles and Hashtags

Feeling a bit out of line

What is coming through the feed line

The umbilical chord of information

Keeping me alive

As my eyes read over every line

Some clowns grab the main light

Stage set for them just right

No need to worry for talent or something new

Just get naked and run around for a few

Headlines running from each side of the States

Somehow I can no longer see straight

To the headlines falling off the page

From computers and newpapers

Wasted on the futile

Infertile information trying to impregnate my mind

With nothing more than wasted time

And energy

Just trying to read head news line

 

Farewell and Hello

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The day is coming

Finally is here

The barn is ready

The placemats set

Church is waiting

A place to reflect

To set out on a new life

Sail a new ocean

To bid farwell to me

As I once new it

And greet the new

With Hello

I cannot longer hold my past

As it to constrict time

And my future

I go forward brave

Rejuvenated to make life

Work

To work for a new purpose

To shed fear and doubt

To go certainly on a new route

I spend my last days as a bachelor

Reflecting on what I have done

In a short few days

My total will be greater

Than just one

So I sit here peaceful

Hopeful

And quiet

Letting inspiration run

From inception in my brain

To my heart

Through my veins

 Down my arms

 And out of my fingers

I write

Of how life is going to be different

For better and for worse

Sickness and health

But I am ready for this great challenge

To take up the old me

And move to greater heights

Where I can see new potential

Growing

Going somewhere I do not know

Into the future I will walk

With my feet touching gently

On the ground below

A Pick Me Up Tune

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Discontent in the bar on a Saturday

Everyone seems to be okay

Except this one character

Late fifties sniffing for something young

Couple too many drinks he has

Flung

Back

Into his wasted soul

And hardened heart

This man is doing nothing

But playing the creepy old man part

His breathe reeks of alcohol and beer

Harassing the poor musicians to play

A pick me up tune

So he can swoon the younger ladies

Sickened

To my stomach as I see him rummage

Through these civilized people

He is garbage left in the summer sun

Ruining the night life of everyone

His hair slicked back in 80’s fashion

Blond with protruding teeth

Blue eyes that see

Nothing but flesh on the bones of young women

He is sickened me to no redemption

I am but inches away from bending

Flinching into a rage of spirit

So that everyone in this bar can hear it

He is a wasted soul washed up on the shore

For he is that

And nothing more

Mr. Dylan

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The beginnings of a song about how it seems that peoples belief in song has died. It has gone away with our generation – not that it is a bad thing – but things are changing. If I had a chance this is what I would want to ask Dylan, Seeger, and Lennon. It is a work in progress but it will someday become a song. Cheers and enjoy.

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Hey Mr. Dylan is there anything else you would say

Hey Mr. Dylan would you show me how to play

Hey Mr. Dylan would you do or say anything more

Hey Mr. Dylan the kids don’t care anymore

 –

Then one day

The songs will just fade away

And we will all go back

And live some other way

If you really must go

Please remember this

I am nothing more

Than some silly altruist

 –

Hey Mr. Lennon would you sing it again

Hey Mr. Lennon things are so different from back then

Hey Mr. Lennon how did you write those songs

Hey Mr. Lennon it seems what you started is gone

 –

Then one day

The songs will just fade away

And we will all go back

And live some other way

If you really must go

Please remember this

I am nothing more

Than some silly altruist

 –

Hey Mr. Seeger can anyone around here still hear

Hey Mr. Seeger no one listens to songs with ipods in their ears

Hey Mr. Seeger I am doing the best that I can

Hey Mr. Seeger the songs are dead and I have no plan

Call Out

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Practice hard

Churn them out

That is what the songwriting life is all about

It is no matter where you are

You have to do

And sing from your heart

That makes songs worth writing

Fingers sliding and bending

Notes ringing and clinging

To every syllable and vowel

That sings from this mouth

Out into the world

To scream and shout

That new songs will be birthed

From hand and shovel

Pulled from the earth

And given a life to live

In peoples ears

This is the gift to give

The Daily Routine

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Ah the challenge of keeping creativity alive in my life. As I am pulled to try and sell the art and the creations that have already occurred. It is hard sometimes to step back and try and let the creative juices be heard. So I sat down to try and document my daily routine of keeping creativity alive in my life. So here it is – enjoy!

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The daily routine

Wake up in the morning

Make sure to exercise

Work out the arms and the thighs

Get back and get cleaned up

Got to write and practice

Keep the routine up

3 or four hours later

I now sit at the compu-tater

Life’s lines complex yet defined

I make this no place to wine

Letting go on paper what must be done

Seemed like a good idea

Challenging and fun

Poems must be constructed daily

This challenges what I have to say

About beauty, art, and the progress of today

The challenge is not to conform

But to set a new aggressive norm

Creativity must be engaged often

Or else the course muscles will soften

Decay and leave your soul

Looking for someone else to enroll

The creative spirit can be fleeting and gone

So I must capture these spirits in songs

Poems, writings, and other means

Or else I will be left with nothing

Creativity gone and no job to boot

I look pretty bad now in a business suit

Full of aspirations are these writings

Even though my mind is rattled with distractions

I must be real and stay ahead

Better off here trying

Than creativity dead

Swollen Hands

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Her heart has more love to give

Then I’ll ever know

Her heart has more love to give

And she’s growing old

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Time can harden your heart

Break you apart

And turn it into sand

With weary eyes

And weathered lines

No one would understand

These eyes see the world

Felt the knife slide through

Her swollen hand

Call the birds

Forget yourself

Put your ambitions on the shelf

No way to live

Don’t ask but give

Breeding nothing but bitterness within

 –

This heart has more love to give

Then I’ll ever know

This heart has more love to give

And we are growing old

–

When things get bad around you

Walls falling down too

I know what she’ll do

She will start again

With some new friends

A new life so far from the bends

Make her way

Cutting off the slack

Far away and never looking back

Then one day

She will turn and say

Things were never quite the same

She will know

That in her soul

Pain fades but never grows old

Overstay Your Welcome

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Some dark shit – but hey we all have those days right? I am feeling the weight of overstaying my welcome and feel that I have to move on – so here it is.

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I waited to long you see

The walls are closing in on me

Not much left I can do

Not quite sure I can see it through

The rent is late

The man has to be paid

But I am short on pennies

Nothing easy about being a musician

Not gunna lie

Some days I wish I was a fat cat

Just laying around chasing rats

But what the sense in that

I have these fingers and these thoughts

It not something that I bought

Or try to sell

But when the whispers turn to yells

That is when the pain can swell

And swell

Turning you into something you are not

Making you turn your back

On something when it is quite alright

Why do it

Why go now

Just a couple bucks short got you down

There has to be a better way somehow

Life ain’t easy is the saying

But life has a way of displaying

This little cliché in a real way

It never makes sense until that one day

Then you look and say

Shit

These bills

How will I ever pay?