Mean a Thing

The old fears

Dried up tears

Move up

Move out

All the changes happen

In specific time

And moments

We remove ourselves

To see the grand scheme

By it doesn’t mean a thing

When your heart is torn

Advertisements

Spilled Milk on the Red Line

Spilled milk on the Red Line

Veins of white

Rush down the floor

“That ain’t mine”

The lady with two hats on yells

The man

Visibly exhausted with his head back

Is not one inch close to conscious

As the white pours through the isle

Pictures being snapped

A moment catches

The woman with the bike laughs

Late night Red Line

Public transportation

Strange spilled iterations

As the winds wind through

The tunnels

Below the streets

Of L.A.

Desperation of Desolation

The desperate times

Desperate measures

Come up with something good

A productive measure

In times worn thin

As the veil of light

Through the morning curtains

We have to continue to

Rely on food decisions

To set us right

Day to Be

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

Aches and Pains

Aches and pains

Strange held hands

In a cold rain

Under red skies

Under falling leaves

In a lake 

Not a sea

The aches and pains

Cities and lanes

Riding in the cars 

Remain the same

Great Deflate

I show up

But late

Let’s get one thing straight

No words matter

In a great deflate

Deflate and prosper

“You’re fired”

But I already walked

From your offer

So here comes the New Year

The new changes

Bring on the corruption cases

Watch the fires blazin’

En garde!

En garde!

 

Donuts

There is a place on Manhattan Ave.

Down on the street

With a view

A little spot called Peter Pan

My morning donut man

Light but filling

Soft but full

Smell of fresh dough walking in

Warming from the thin winter air

Grab a couple of loose Washingtons

Fumbling some change

The pale white aprons fill the counter

They exchange money for food

As I grasp this first-morning donut

I embrace its warmth and familiarity

My teeth rupture the delicate sugar coating

Unleashing the yeast flavor in subtle fashion

In this moment I am home

Wherever that takes me

The sugar hangs on my chin

As I walk back out through the crowded doorway

I am on my way

Back to Brooklyn

Back to life

Breathe it all in

Take one last bite

 

 

 

 

 

Angel Investor or Debt Collector

Continue to write

Question

Inquire

The creative process shall never tire

Agendas will be set

And disrupted

Hope bursts like a bubble

Whose flight has been interrupted

The job of the artist is to set free

Ideas before they can be accepted politically

To stay pure in original thought and progression

Artistic pursuit on the mind like an obsession

I will not put hope in others

Not those who claim to rise above the rest

As if us the collective whole

Was just a second best

Rather these words are our power

When we are powerless

We can still speak

And be heard

Every single word will land on an ear

No great cause can be pursued with fear

Rather we go forth and seek truth

Writing the words that resonate with me and you

Not waiting for an angel investor or debt collector

We all will write and be heard

Be heard

This truth I have written on January 3rd

Gut the Ethics!

Gut the ethics!

Renew the clashes

I want to hide $50 bills

Underneath white mustaches

Purge the homeless

But protect their babies

We will burn our way through

Leave the individuals feeling hotter

But no medicare in their 80’s

Pursue big oil with dirty hands

Make new faces in the Klan

Instill fear and vanquish hope

Drop it in the ocean with ball and rope

Here comes the new government

Ready to take the country

So start hiding your hope

And your money

Gut the ethics

Cut the semantics

Just political buffoonery

Ideal tactics

The individual can only hope

That no one can dash our hope

With a 10 cent rope

But either way here we go

 

 

Here Comes 2017

Start the New Year

Pour the Coffee

Sweet grapefruit

With bitter ends

Sweet caramel sugar grains

The new year unfold in front of us

Like a vacuum sealed bag

Breaking at the seems

So it begins again

We plan something new

Something great

I hope to be a part of 2017