An original piece
Or composition
Had me thinking
Had me wishing
To create a hope for a future
Of writing my own tunes
Make a melody to start
Harmonize from the notes
Original pieces played
Play Original
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Tag Archives: New York
Sunday Italian Food
Life in New York City
Held up by pasta
Dishes on Sunday nights
With a distant tune
Playing us into the eve
As our fears melted away
While the cars honk their horns
My Style Lifestyle
A style of living
Not to be confused with
Ambient feelings
Minimalism in the moment
Of life and detection
My hope is that the work
Of white walls and planted vases
Will mean a more meaningful life
In its place
Round Trip
Around the corner
A new gate created
For me to walk through
Under the pass
And into the blue
Shoes of Dirt
Late night load in
With slippery clay
Under the foot
With a storm on the way
Get in the room
Soon
As the rain falls swift
And the lighting boom
Shoes of dirt lie on the carpet
Drying
As the sun is gone
And the crickets are vying
Ceasefire
If we can’t work together
Then there is no path forward
Nothing for us to look
Forward to
Seeing each other through
In a day
When all the words seem
To melt away
Into the deep grey unknown
Looking for the world
Seeking a home
With each other
One as one
Each our sister
Each our brother
Long Howl
Long howl
In the night
Made half of patience
Half delight
Thunder and drizzle of rain
Came as the sun set
Over the western fields
Of flooded spring rain
And over the dams of steel
A Echo Bellow
An echo of the train
Runs over the cold
Damp fields
Of Fort Wayne
As the train
Makes its way onward
To the east coast
With a barreling motion
To boast
Moving on into the night
Breaks of Thunder
Breaks of thunder
A mile south
Of downtown
Around a bend
In a field
That is where the sounds
Are hurled
On a Monday night
Confusing Musings
Confusing musings
Of the art
Of distraction
Artificial attraction
The powerful few
Direct their efforts
To distract
The main crew
Abstractions of actions
And intent
No actions made
No messages sent
So how to tell the truth
Of the few
When lying is a standard
Act of the new forces
A Cup of Songwriting 