Hard work
Commitment
Fulfillment of obligations
Laid out straight
While the days fade away
No note rehearsed
Doesn’t resound
In some place
Some moment
Even when hope itself
Seems dim
The most ardent
Dedication
Will win
Swing away for the sky
Hit it hard
Hit it high
Along the path
Of a lonely road
Held up with a distant
Drone
Swing away in these times
Swing away with your final
Dime
Untitled treasure
In a chemical wasteland
Can I even understand
A land
That goes well beyond
My own years
My own tears
Made up
Makeup
Destroyed
Untitled treasure
No way to measure
With a single hand
Head up fingers down
Pressing button sound
Keeping it rolling
One more time
One more rhyme
Or beat
Or anything really
Just keep it rolling
On down the street
Vibe right
Vibe left
What is left
When the vibe is gone
All night long
Heard in a song
Vibe right
By my side
I know a determined experience
I have lived it
In my own right
What I know
What I have done
Focus helps keep
A narrow drive
To harness energy
For one’s side
A determined experience in this life
Just working hard
And hoping to do it right
Undesirable
Is understandably
Underwhelming
Unlikely to find others
Wanting of such numbers
Aberrant arranged
Veered off and strange
Undesirable and Aberrant
Is where we are today
I am not sure
Nor am I aware
We are off our course
Where we head now
I am scared
I seem to have a ceaseless stomach
Tonight
Crazing
Craving
For anything
Tonight
Settle down
Go to bed
Lay awake instead
Stomach growling
For something new
But rest
No need for butters
Or seeds
Fly away rather
Into a dream
Can a wooden blade
Chop down a tree
Struggle with it’s own
Humanity
Can what is made
Be used to destroy
Even though it is not made
Of stronger alloy
A wooden blade
Can carve out a forest
But only if the blade is not too porous
What we can learn from a wooden blade
What forest could we have saved?
If you are quiet
And listen
On the eve of morning
You hear stories
From between the walls
You hear what you might
Not want to know
You hear everything
As a quite morning goes
I don’t listen to close
For some stories
I wish not to be told
But the morning
In between the walls
That where some stories
Go
