A new post
On the eve of a new year
Fear of what is to come
What lie ahead
Gathering the words in my head
Head out to the streets of New York
Celebrate the upcoming with
A bottle of bubbles to uncork
Troubles or success
Whatever the new year will bring
We will ring it in
In our new hometown
The only way we know how
To join the others on the streets
Join our voices when we stand
On our feet
Happy New Year
We shout
From the Streets
The glaze of icing on the streets
Ice skating in layered sheets
Less than 2 feet of snow
But back to the new cold
The first storm of the winter
Came in thick
With ice brittle
Thinner
I enjoy he cold but stay warm
When the snow is done
I undue my jacket
Relax
Winter is back
Notes unclear
A year newly wed
To the laughs of
What the joker said
Uneasy decisions
Laying upon eager mantle
It was never my plan though
It was unclear
A year of reflection
Upon the drum of my ear
Pounds the light sound
Of changing throughout the year
The change would happen
Regardless of my decisions
Blurred my future visions
So on a day of reflection from 2015
Much is to be seen
In 2016
Ode to complication
How you have grown
From such a little boy
To full blown man
You used to have no role
In my life
Absent at times
Now more full time
Coming on stage
During the Holidays
Bending truths
Subjecting relationships
To misunderstandings
How I would not fear you
Growing up
But as I age
I see the ripples
Growing on a sleepy lake
Unfortunately it seems
You have arrived
Not ethereal
But on my life’s front door
Now that your here
I will now have to learn to adapt
Grow
Accommodate this new arrival
I wish you not the best
But that we can both exist
The light passes through glass
Rigid at the top
Distorted unequal wobble
Of light through the bottle
Incandescent lit up flutter
Transparent empty
Filled and dashed away
Sips of cold water saved
Into the hot wash
Cracked plastic dry
On the table coop
In this coffee shop
–
The sense of unity
A deep spring within you and me
Is fundamentally
An idea which
We should all agree
Ideally
However when a evil tragedy
Strikes the innocents
Lacking any true humanity
What are we left with
Other than a hollowed out hope
A useless and frayed rope
I have a belief
That there is more to unite
Than to tear apart
We as humans all share a common heart
Not emotionally
Purely physically
We are born with brains and toes
We all face our challenges of growing old
Not all is lost in humanity
I just saw someone yesterday
Help a lost fellow on the street
Maybe a hope of full unity may fall away
The hands of each other
We somehow share a sense of commonplace
Deep within the human race
On a Monday it seems burned out
Washed up and worn out
The hope runs like a well deep underground
Running full but without a sound
I share this hope
That is the simple humanity of each other
That we are truly bound
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
The lightness of air
Held from highest peaks
Falling soft
On my face and cheeks
Holding air light
In lungs tight
I can only have moments
Which are
Never enough
Studio hours
Layered with contoured flowers
Decisions scoured
Around and over hours
Speakers pushing vibrations
Ears in full salutation
Summed with amps
Knobs awaiting determination
We apply ourselves
Throughout the daytime minutes
–
I hope
For more synchronicity
Pulling together songs
In artistic creation
You know I don’t eat that anymore
The smell of processed meats
Leaking through the cracked door
Orange yellow eggs smashed in
Not quite sure if it the slightest smell of plastic
That did me in
Logs of meat hammered out
Full of sodium bicarbonates
The thoughts just frustrates
But on Sunday mornings the family still enjoys
The processed meats
Made from recycled toys
A Cup of Songwriting 