Today is the honorary day
Contemporary
Stay
Of my own birthday
On a bright and mellow
Los Angeles
Afternoon
Today is the beginning of
Another journey
Around
The moon
Ides of March
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Tag Archives: Los Angeles
Grey L.A.
The water falls
From the roofs
Easy as it can roll
Into the streets
And streaming down
The avenues
Into the collections
And sewer openings
Where it rolls into larger
Homes
Away from the streets
Of a busy
L.A.
All Wrong
I had it all wrong
From the shirts
To the clothes
To the coffee
And the hopes
What’s the matter
Anyways
When it’s all wrong
Today
Nonchalant
Nothing too formal
Because I don’t want a lot
What the idea was to be
A little more nonchalant
Rebel Hopes
Rebel Hopes
On the way
To being a renegade spirit
These worn out days
I have ideas
That are not so unique
With words
Bleak
But I hope to see a
Light
Guided by my own
Divine sight
For wherever I am pulled
I will hold on
To these rebel hopes
Wither and Blow
Wither and blow
So I am told
Is the way the winds
Goes
It can destroy
The sturdiest of
Foundations
It can rampage
The plans
We are making
So whether it be
The wind or the snow
It changes the face
Of whatever we
Know
If Only
If only I knew
What I can’t know
Before the world goes
Where it does
If I only could
Say the thing
That would make her
Come back
To me
If only I had the time
To plan out the future
For my own safety
If only I could have heart
When all else fails
To hold me up
If only I could write the
Right words
On the page
So that I could say
I love you
Rhetorical Waves
It started with a few words
Like a leaking faucet
On a dry day
As the hopes of many
Became united
In one discrete shade of
Grey
So they say
That the rhetorical waves
Had begun
From the drops into the ocean
It all was one
In that moment
I knew the sea change
Had already won
Wide-Eyed Ocean
The wide eyed ocean
Breeze
Filled with salty
Vibes and evenings
Long and cool
Into the night
I close my eyes
And feel those
Wide-Eyed Ocean
Life
My Straw North
The old county
Where I grew up
The straw north
Outside the state park
Where you could hear the rides
At night
Off the highway
That creaked in the evening
And cracked at dawn
The fields filled with
Corn and life
Back on
The other side
A Cup of Songwriting 