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

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

The Rally Cry of the Tired

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

4 Minutes

In 4 minutes I will attempt

To write words

Strung together with

Some meaning

My eyes are stuck to the screen

Gleaming

Written in an attempt to say

What I have postponed along the way

Returning to ritual

Feels good

Yet not unusual

11:57

11:57 The clock reads

Momentary and sedentary

I return to the road

We travel so often

Yet so unfamiliar

Unusual

The hope of unity

A collection of ideas

Almost perfect

But perfect in its imperfections

It has beauty despite moments

Of Lack of direction

Proceed on our journey

To find people

To share moments and peace

This is my idea to bring

Articulate Assembling

Articulate assembling

Summer salad created

Hands willfully picking the pieces

Assembling the creation at hand

Southern Indiana type of man

Years spent on the eastern seaboard

Now looking a bit more windward

Back against the jet stream

And to the midwest

Now creating companies with goals set

A man and his discovery

Looking for hopeful engagements

And full recovery

We sit for dinner

My wife and I

Engaged from side to side

Discussing his next adventure

From the countryside

A home set off in the distance

Off the country roads in existence

We discuss possibilities of new futures

I wish I could have seen this sooner

Just on the Outskirts

Bradley is a happy man

He falls asleep on the island

To the sound of a bellowing fog horn

Cutting through the air as rich as worn leather

He awakes to coffee that envelops him

With a hug

Rather than a mere raspy handshake

He is content on the coast

Billowing up steam from a morning roast

Falling asleep as the fog crosshatches the eve sky

Across the bay

Happy till the day he may day

Rent control his eternal protection

Umbrella’s held in rather polite distinction

Humanity’s bustle he has no strict participation

Watching the sunrise

Heightened by windy anticipation

However the wind blows

On the edge of the sleepy little beach town

Bradley has it right

Bradley is a happy man

Just on the outskirts of San Fran

 

Life for Living

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The city life is for the living
Night becomes day
Day becomes night
With no differentiation
Souls worn in
Changed with no hesitation
The city builds one day after the other
The great manifestation
I will go to the fields
Farms and lakes
While the city drives away
Never stopping to say
Hello or goodbye
It simply runs
All day
All night