The coming days to be
Letting go of what was familiar to
You and me
A city
A life
For bigger and better
Discoveries and journeys
Letting go
While others hold so tight
That they squeeze the life
Out of the joy
Thy love
And love left
It will be
I cry cowardly over my leather shoes
The moan of hateful speech
Beacons a new wrath
The exotic clover has grown
Dried up and shriveled
Bequeathed
For the next generation
A sensational generation
My hope and dream
So I do my part in planting hope and optimism
Even in this world of ever deep division
Our hopes and dreams
Bequeathed from our fathers and mothers
Have been squandered away
On cheap things
It’s that determined feeling
The sweet ambition
The fantastic touch
The plausible idea
Warm to talk to
Improving the rush
To the fingers
Head
Arms
The rush of the moment
The rally cry of the tired
A worthy cause flamed out with vigor
Passing floating rolling
I have tried
To do good
Good to be undone
So much has to rely on a rally cry
When your tired
And lonely
Not alone
You feel sad
Disconnected from the world
How did it work out not the way it was
All planned
A plane in flight unmanned
The plane now is in the final descent
It will land
How
Unknown
But through all of this
I
We
Have grown
Grown up
So here we come
‘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…”
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
Again
Some details are always secret
Frustrating and deliberate
Held back with animosity
Towards the roaming misfit
Truth is never quite told
Lies sleekly avoided
News spread through lies spun
Then voided
I hope to deal with such grace
That I can overcome dealing with
The real face
Of a roaming misfit
Hold my tongue in place
For when he shows up to my door
Waiting for the embrace
I will hold back the words true and harsh
Hoping for something more contained and smart
But the webs we weave
Some to build
Others to deceive
I know this now more than before
So I will smile with reserve
When this man shows up to my door
Information technology
Slip and slide of lethargy
Connected eyes
With screens to see
Distracting cells of energy
I pull away empathetically
Hoping for some new life in me
How is it that machines can lock in
On holding tight to my time and skin
Settle my movements and actions
Taking me into dead satisfaction
I am weary of these offers
Video games makes normal
The martyrs
So I will walk away
Until the next day
The lights illuminate my face again
We build houses
Trees with farms
We hold them dear
We create our own opportunity
From the sparse earth
We pull new life
Our own life and growth
We give back
In this line of work
Make discoveries
On weathered farms
Growing up
Under swollen skies
Making changes
In our parents eyes
Commitments made
Growing mistakes
We just have to do
Whatever it takes
I watch you grow
You watch me
We help each other stay
From as low as life
Can be
We wake up together
To see another day
Whether its the sun
Or the rain
We grew up under swollen skies
When the rain fell
It pulled the tears out of our eyes
Yet we pushed through
I get to see a new face
Through the rain anew
I am honored and proud
To be your husband
Under these dark rain clouds
A Cup of Songwriting 