Tag Archives: Los Angeles

Currency of My Own Time

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The little forgotten things

Moments passing 

Fleeting and free

Tied down now to the eternity

Of passing

Time flickering quietly 

Not kicking and thrashing

It’s the unknown riddle

I attempt to make the most of the moments

Fleeting moments

I should have known this

That in the tiny cracks of uncertainty 

Can take down the curtain 

Of flow of currency

I attempt at words construed and written

For the hopes of my own improvement

So in exchange of time 

Not perfection of pursuit

But the pursuit of something new

Everyday 

For you

Humanity it’s Entirety

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Sometimes we just need help

A four letter word

That keeps me from running to far off

On days

Where my pants are dirty

My mind worries

Where the next paycheck is coming

So I find myself running

Not with my feet

Constant thoughts

But then I get some help

It comes in any form

Off the beaten path and more the norm

These small gestures I suggest

Mean more day to day

Take sullen weights off my weary chest

I muse myself that the world can see my needs

Humanity in its entirety

Knows what I need

So I just have to remain steady

Hold on hope

That I can persevere

Through the sleepless nights

And life will return back

Resuming that it will be alright

Separate Hands

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We all sit around a fluorescent fire

Comforted by being side by side

Yet in a complete new world

Each of our minds

Has gone to find

Together we are in physicality

But in reality

We could not be farther apart

So we watch our fires

Burning in our hands

Selfish held plans

A new sense of community is born

From the hand held fires

That burn all night long

Separating us from

Dusk to dawn

Creation with No Expectation

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I don’t wish for much this year

Just good luck to take for next year

Going to need it as I look down the line

Can see a lot atop the mountain in Christmastime

I have peaked from a valley

Not to be underwhelmed with what lays ahead

Sometimes I see more mountains

That lay out over the riverbed

But one foot in front of the other keeps me going

Keeps us going

I try to make sense of this journey sometimes

Is it a worthless novel ride

With no beginning and no finish

Peoples salacious appetites

To consume what is finished

No care for time, matter, or commitment

So crude and raw

Yet the creative process draws on this all

Creation with no expectation

Give in hopes of smiles in exchange

So this year I ask not for riches or gifts

Rather that one of these songs we wrote

Can lie amongst the greatest hits

Batch of Fury

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What can I do

Seeing the beginning hrough

What looked like a simple task

Revealed a challenging mask

What I now must ask

What is the drive of a dream

Driving, pushing, ripping with steam

When steam is less of a stream

A trickle slowly flowing

Regrouping a new batch of fury

When it is needed in such a hurry

I knew that challenges would come up

Disrupt my path of commitment

Inner sentiment rattled

In an industry of noise and clatter

Struggling to find what matters

What is clear and concise

Hold on to notes more precise

A harmony that unites

Rather than divides

The stories coming from other story tellers

Tell the same story as mine

In a world less than divine

Struggles and distractions are what they find

I see the same hopes and failures

Hoping for grit to set sail

Here in Front of Me

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Everything I need is right here in front of me

My hands, eyes, hope, desire

Everything I can use to bring myself higher

Hard work is the barrier

Constraining my own ethic

I feel that I have now realized this simple truth

What you focus on grows

What you forget about goes away with old

So I must refocus on what is in front of me

All the tools I need

Are surrounding me

Asking me

I will answer

The Roaming Misfit

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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

 

Creating Context

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No one will sing my song

Others create

Borrow or steal

But my voice sings my life story

It must be from my own lips

Sung

Creating context for understanding this mess

Owning these words whether they be of beauty

Or of restlessness

It is my mission to create my story

No other hands have created

This life of simple strands

Woven around complex webs

Of inner circle steps

So no one will push my pen

My life’s commitment to the end

To be committed and honest

So I can be fully created

Life, lived, created lines

Easy or frustrated

 

Slip and Slide of Lethargy

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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