On the far side
Of life
I have said many goodbyes
A few hellos
Quite a few yes’s
And the occasional no
I have grown
To come and know
What is good in life
What is to be cherished
What wastes time
And what is meritless
So everyday I rise
And smile
For what time we have here
Is just a short
While
Machine style me
With a good natured
Laugh
Don’t impose
A frictional
Tone
Of indifference
Rather a love
I can hone
And develop
From a machine style
I envelop
All of myself
A displacement of time
Is a whole new
Idea of recollection
I read in the pages of The New York Times
A nostalgic resurrection
Of the old feelings of joy
And pretending nice
Of a hope for a future
Without the pain
Of ill willed advice
The price we paid
For something new
Is more than a swipe
Now that will do
You pay in atmospheric
Pressure
Contested
With every measure
So hold hope
That more can be made
Than just the price we paid
I forgot about you
Eternal renew
When the day becomes
Night
You charge me
Again
And again
For what I need
On my prescription subscription
So don’t wake me up
To do your bidding
Bid away
In the middle of the night
I’m a manic man
On a manic mission
To seed the hope
Of a superstition
In between my eyes
And behind my ears
From the light of day
And the hope of years
What would it take
To have complete equality
Of idea and thought
Is it something
That mankind can achieve
I hope with resitance
I believe with hesitation
But I see what happens around me
And I fall back to frustrated
Resignation
Seditious
Attempts
At reason
With no concern
For humanity
Or partiality
Rather for just
One’s self
That is the focus of
Just the current
Status
Of
Us
Waning night
Evening gone
Morning later
Will bring the dawn
For now I rest
An easy soul
In my heart
And growing old
Unpublished
And unheard
My words
Fall short
When they could
Be bold
In paperback
Or in print
But to me
It’s not important
What is
Is the process of creation
To practice
Daily
With patience
So I am set on that front
Nothing more that I want
A Cup of Songwriting 