My blue home
On the shores
Of the lakes
From which I am
Born
The water calls me
Even when I am weary
To try and understand
The ripples of waves
That crest
At the midnight hour
Over and over
My blue home
Through
My Blue Home
Reply
Tag Archives: New York
All Wrong
I had it all wrong
From the shirts
To the clothes
To the coffee
And the hopes
What’s the matter
Anyways
When it’s all wrong
Today
Nonchalant
Nothing too formal
Because I don’t want a lot
What the idea was to be
A little more nonchalant
Rebel Hopes
Rebel Hopes
On the way
To being a renegade spirit
These worn out days
I have ideas
That are not so unique
With words
Bleak
But I hope to see a
Light
Guided by my own
Divine sight
For wherever I am pulled
I will hold on
To these rebel hopes
Wither and Blow
Wither and blow
So I am told
Is the way the winds
Goes
It can destroy
The sturdiest of
Foundations
It can rampage
The plans
We are making
So whether it be
The wind or the snow
It changes the face
Of whatever we
Know
Quick and Judicious
Quick and judicious
Was the decision
Incision
Point
From my eye
To my hand
A quick stand
Taken
When confusion
Runs true
Across the land
So take the hope
Of today
Into tomorrow
When a judicious decision
Is strewn in sorrow
A Daily Science
Is there a science
To the perfect day
From start to finish
No other way
Of looking at the same
Pieces to the puzzle
Hiding from the fears
Embracing the struggle
These are the acts
Behind making the most
Of the moments we are given
Rhetorical Waves
It started with a few words
Like a leaking faucet
On a dry day
As the hopes of many
Became united
In one discrete shade of
Grey
So they say
That the rhetorical waves
Had begun
From the drops into the ocean
It all was one
In that moment
I knew the sea change
Had already won
Wide-Eyed Ocean
The wide eyed ocean
Breeze
Filled with salty
Vibes and evenings
Long and cool
Into the night
I close my eyes
And feel those
Wide-Eyed Ocean
Life
My Straw North
The old county
Where I grew up
The straw north
Outside the state park
Where you could hear the rides
At night
Off the highway
That creaked in the evening
And cracked at dawn
The fields filled with
Corn and life
Back on
The other side
A Cup of Songwriting 