Surely the uncertainty
Will certainly
Wear perfectly on
The real worthy
Feelings
Confirming me
Consciously
Putting me feet in front of me
Supposedly
There is a 1 out of 3
Chance
That whether we sing
Or dance
We will not have enough
Cash
To stash away
For the future
So we must take utmost precaution
With scalpel and suture
Sow our future
To know it can grow
And go where we hope it goes
Our future together
Must be stronger
Then when the wind blows
But truly
Who knows
I am no controlled spirit
Untamed and overgrown
My emotions can be so
Easily swung
Not the words that I am
Proud of
Not in pride am I congested
When I am over zealous
My heart can be to little
Protected
How is it that the same tricks
With new names
Can catch a heart beat
All the same
If I could only go under cover
Into my own deepest detections
Pull out the weakest of
Sympathetic
Inflections
So rather than pick up
The pieces from hopes unmet
I could let my heart down easy
Lay it to rest gentle
While it’s quiet on the set
However my heart will wrestle me
At every turn
Up and down
It’s always involved
Every choice
All around
When the shift comes
When the good has come undone
Rung out of the feelings
Absurd little dealings
Of high dollar agreements
Gentrification and public ceilings
I have become the problem
No longer a solution
Another chimney
On the streets of pollution
My feelings have crackled
Dried up like timber
Burst into flames
Under the opposite
Season to winter
My hopes wither
From giant logs on a river
To little more than a small sliver
The exchanges of gold and silver
Have yielded a new type sinner
With higher debts
And higher fevers
To push up rents
And out the believers
So now maybe I am the problem
I am not quite sure how it shifted
From pushing keys
In the seat I am sitting
Now to the lords of rent
Coming down hard
In a city unfit for a family and yard
So I will move on
To new opportunities and games
For somewhere else I may be the solution
To help clean up
The new streets of pollution
‘Up, one, two, three…”
Rest
I wonder how long I can do this
Just maintain
Sustain a healthy life
What about my career
Am I headed in the right direction
Ah f*ck directions
‘Up, one, two, three…”
Rest
I wonder if we will make rent this week
Can we afford to get some food tonight
I am sure we will be alright
Last time I checked we were
‘Up, one, two, three…”
Rest
I can’t believe how sore I am today
Walking over 5 miles a day
It’s a little much
To work and play
But I am tough
I am a New Yorker
‘Up, one, two, three”
Rest
4 workouts in a weeks
Trying to keep my body in peak shape
Just for the strength I need
To carry on life
To make progess where I thought
I could make none
Back
‘Up, one, two, three…”
The velvet blue seats
Set adjacent to the table circles
Whirled with oak floors
The Brooklyn Coffee Shop
Full of headphones and beat up leather shoes
Glass windows giant to see through
I await my wife
In the Empire State
Under a sign that reads
Toby’s Estate
The elusive ghost
Chased through streets
Competing with our hands
Feet
Mouths open and close
Drifting words hung
Before the evening repose
This unattainable drifting ghost
My soul collapses on Wednesday
To only renew the next day
The brittleness of surviving
Well below the standards of
Living well and thriving
Conniving thoughts land soft
When arriving
Then dismissed in the thought abyss
Of carrying on
This day I just long for easy nights
Well rested then feeling alright
Keeping the feelings down
In my mind
In time
I will find
A rhyme of words
To keep me ahead
Instead of walking
Flying
In moments of desperation
It’s feet ahead
Eyes wide open
To just keep on trying
A single bird flies down Manhattan Avenue
2 wings flapping strong in the wind
Gentle acceleration
Calling out lightly at 6 AM
Such stillness can exist in the city
High hitting trains come to a stop
To see this small bird perched atop
The brownstones of Brooklyn
Resting its wings
To begin it’s ritual sing
Lighten the roads with laughter
The clanking of iron clad walls
Retracted
Open for business now
Seemingly attractive
Deliveries on time and delayed
Now I rush out the door
To see the bird fly away
Manhattan means of hustle
Cannot be outdone
The city’s soul
Worn and wrung
The pace of growth
So fast and known
The life investment
Can build or take your home
So we jump in
Head first
Awaiting new phone calls
The hunger and thirst
My brain in a bottle of kombucha on a ride through the rockies
Fermented and pressurized ready to explode
Some days my mind winds up so fast
With nowhere to go
Those days seem to be the most frustrating
Deranging
Planning becomes insufficient
My minds moves quicker than a prayer to St. Vincent
Contingent on results
That can no be provided quick enough
To ease my worried thoughts
I wish I was more thought delayed
Taking my days with quite more ease
Rather than trying to just run away
The mind can be a mild pond or a ravenous sea
Somehow I am the one who decides
It’s ultimately up to me
The tall heights of towers
Lingering over industrialized edges
Waterfront
West of the city
Graffiti rich in depth and texture
From the skies to my feet
Greenpoint on the edge of the East River
Stirring up dust
Unsettled
Tell the tale
Of a big town
On the banks of the Hudson
A Cup of Songwriting 