Tag Archives: life

The Possession of Fluent Success

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The unknown path of success

Teeters as much in my hands

As it does at rest

It balances not with my abilities

Talents or goodwill

It will find a line curved

Sloped sideways

And up a hill

The great challenge is to wait

Undisturbed

Knowing that I am

Unacquainted with the ways of success

It must pass from my hands

Through the eyes of onlookers

Into ears and slowly through hearts

Then it must make it way

Back out through the mouth

To adhere to other ears

Drumming to the sound of what is new success

These ears must then determine if my notes

Pass their discernment test

For which at this point

I have no possession of fluent success

It is now in the air we breathe

The sights we see

It is out there tucked away

Against the mess

Somehow

I can not define

What is success

Unwarranted Threats

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Unwarranted threats

How does this feel justified

Changing stories

Not clarified 

The word pushers 

Try to pale my face 

With willful words

Undignified

I keep a cool head

As I am not afraid of hot headed fears

Orchesrated golden needs

We share a meal 

Table side 

While others plan lies

The last chance money dive

This is the face of reality

Looking at me

Straight in the eye

The light inside of me will not go out

I won’t get down

I know what it means to move on

Let go of everything

And hold hope

In the songs I sing

A Night in Brooklyn

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“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

The Bread Shop Stop

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The scent of change

Came at 4 AM

I rolled over in my bed

“When was the last time

I smelled the fresh bread”

At this point I was completely

In my head

I knew the change was coming

The bakery was on its way out

I still had one small shriveled doubt

Maybe the planned buyout

Was not as good of a plan

They would develop a alternate route

As I lay awake

Thinking

It had been at least a week

So I cracked the curtain to take

A quick peek

The burnt carmel building

Was at a complete standstill

I could see this from

My windowsill

Never again would the smell of

Fresh bread bellow

Down Manhattan Avenue

It was a nice offset to bus exhaust

But now it is lost

Lost

Gone

I am new here

I own that I have very airy feelings

Where others die-cast old love

Would feel it in there hearts much above

I can remember

When my wife and I stopped in

Knocked on the door

A man came out from within

Gave him a 5 spot and

Us a loaf

We stood on the corner

Eating it whole

The memory was the brightest

Of the few short lived time

But the old place is gone

Make way for the condos

Pack it up and move on

Unconscious Desiring; An Ode

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Unconscious desiring

Subconscious manifesting

Hoping on some dream

Of breaking out of the cycle

Money in

Money out

Dinner bought

Rent Owed

–

I wish to make it out

Even to the middle class

But these days

Not even the middle class

Can pass

The boundary

Set up in our system

Of class

–

The city tells me there is no middle

Either you own

Or are owned

There is not much between

The filthy rich

And the much lesser known

Hustling makes you feel alright

But SOMETIMES

It just is not enough

To get you off the ground

For a bigger flight

–

So my ode is this

I’m not trying to hit it big

Or swig Courvoisier from the jar

I’m just trying to get by

With a little extra to put away

Living for today

So this is my ode

I have nothing more to say

Manhattan Avenue

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On a Tuesday afternoon

I start to feel my hope slip away

Just a bit

It’s that tiny voice it will say

To drudge on in a world uncertain

Don’t give up now

Please don’t pull the curtain

But when I walk down the street

My heart heavy in my chest

The little voice can’t be heard

Can’t be heard anymore

Even when I give it my best

I try to reinvigorate what may be lost

Walking on Manhattan Ave

Damn rents got me down

On such high costs

That I just have to focus on breath

In and out

I can make it through this day

I have not one doubt

I must rekindle the light words

That once rung in my ears

What was once a mighty roar

I just now barely hear

Merchandise Mart

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The buildings here are really beautiful
This is merchandise mart
The speaker blares out
Doors closing
Back in Chicago
Somehow my perception of the city
Changes as I grow old
The same conversations
Over the same topic
Just new faces
Said in new ways
The brown line seems so quiet
Around this time
A Saturday in January
This is a brown line train to kimball
It seems there is always the smell of chocolate on this stop
Dried salt stains and sand on top
It’s the same city
I am different now

Mr. ATM

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The great neon money dispenser
The thick plastic and neon green
With standard equipped touch screen sensor
Blue LED asking to insert here
Holding wealth within its bosoms
Chipped sides from rolling luggage
Went awry
Incandescent lighting up the night
Place firmly on brick slabs
So I know what this machine is withholding
In its tight held stash
Please Mr. ATM
Give me some cash

The January Cold

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All these days seems the same

Feels like I crawl into a cart

Slide along the tracks

The same mono train

Colors look the same

Pale blue sky grey mist lines

At least through my eyes

I see the limestone steeples

Flanking amongst the light rain

Reaching to the skies

I can find some solace

In these remembrances

Go through the motions

So this is how I bring in the new year

Eyes closed hoping not to hear

News of things good and bad

Today is just a day to remember a great soul

As I walk toward the steeple

In the January Cold

Awaiting the Snow

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Mine for the taking

Undertaking

Sincerity or faking

I withstand the scene

Seen on every TV

Commercial or contact layer

Layered with talk

Talking heads

As I wonder my own destiny

I neither own nor know

What lies beneath, below

I watch more heads talk

And await another round of snow