Tag Archives: New York

Decanter Fine Glass Drip

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Summation of a uniquely

Different point of view

Innovating steps

Taken in front of you

The moment is savored

At first sip

Like a fine wine

Decanter fine glass drip

Through the opening

And into the reservoir

These sips taken

With berry bliss unmistaken

And later off to bed

True that the senses are awakened

Procrastinator once said

It is the morning anew

Where innovation feels dead

The hangover of a loving encounter

Must wake up and rub his head

It is in the small moments

That true doubt creeps in

The despicable little whim

Unable to see the finish line within

I fear these moments

When the moment become lackluster

I can’t phone in a true back buster

Muster up

Look up

You can see it through

If I just continue

 

 

 

Fundamentally: You and Me

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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

The Recycled Sofa

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It’s not for everyone

The rain outside the window

Chased by a bellowing siren

Distant and cause 

Uncertain

Somehow the romance of the city

It’s not what others would

Consider pretty

But sitting close to the window

That no longer can stay open

Falling under its own weight

We sit and wait

With each other

Hearing the city whisper back

Not all will hear the city and think

Of the romantic dialogue it brings

Friends on the street sing

Bar doors open and clang

Buses whirl past

Breaks well past the point of repair

Alarming sound when stopped

Car horns ask each other question

Well into the night

Much rather being certain

Than polite

And we sit 

Arm in arm 

On our recycled sofa

From the neighbor 

We moved it for her as a favor

Now we relax

In the building with uneven floors

Why would we ask

For anything

More

Startup

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Back at it again

It’s the name of the game

Fears and road blocks

Float away like melodies

Melodies in the easy wind

I come back to the writing

Uneasy and writhing

But the words fall from my mind

To my hand

Drift from a lovers hope

All the way back up the rope

I start back up

Like a stiff old startup

Rise up

And write again

Short Lines

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How many words can fit in this line

So many life experiences

In so little time

Underlined by growth

Participation

In the whole world

As a congregation

To sum up the last weeks adventures

I would have to surrender some details

Only focus on what come initially

Practically rather than brilliantly

I have flown over the ocean

Swam in the French Rivera

Been pummeled by rain

Been in a plane scared

Taken a train

Halfway across Europe

Eaten dinner out of small tin cups

Watch sunsets over the Mediterranean Sea

Seen things

I probably shouldn’t have seen

Watch a double rainbow extend over the mountains

While lovers kissed

Made friends

In true simpleness

Had conversations well past the finish line

Share a romance well past my time

All of these images

Are hard to fit in the lines

But I try

As the world changes my eyes

All things constant under the wool sky

Blue Print Plan

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Hard to imagine

That my body is not the same

As five years ago

There is no blue print plan

Mentality expands

Trading wisdom for youth

I don’t recognize the latter

In a picture

Or anything for the matter

Music a new pathway sends

Seeing sunsets through revitalized lens

How is it that I can be the same

Not feeling anything the same

Physically all new

Just the name

Is the one part that stays the same

Yet my mind continues on a linear path

For it is a wonderful question to ask

How we can rebirth ourselves

Yet maintain the constant roots

Even when I awake before the dew

It is still me

It is still you

Greasy Hand Salutation

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The fast food fascination

Greasy hand salutation

Black fingernail sludge

With no regard

Just a lopsided smudge

How many mouths enjoy

What the corporate supply chain

Has fed down the drain

From this repulsive trap

We consume such meat

Prestige as if it where a treat

Not one question is asked

Until the collective conscience

Is fully grasped

Then we become more aware

More in tune

Of what is going on in the room

By then our bellies are full of antibiotics

The green eyed optics

Somehow we agreed to this tender

Although we never saw

The face of the sender

Robotic Eclectic

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Plug me in

Thoughts outside the program

Are the ultimate sin

Emotions are fouls

As older feels

Under the jowls

We are now bread to be emotionless

Plug in technology

Meaningless

How is it

That the one trait

That secures our own humanistic state

Is now to be sought out

Shot down

Not welcomed

Frowned

The highest sense of awareness

Is trumped by sedentariness

Now generations are called to the lowest

Common denominator

I hold my emotions with pride

It is what makes humanity real on the inside

Robotic eclectic humanistic

Is not for me

Realistic

So I will stay unplugged

In the most literal sense

Connected human sense

Until I am not allowed

Humanities Weary Seam

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Where do lost dreams go

From the heads of dreamers

To the world outflow

Do dreams dry up and fall away

Do dreams pack up on a rainy day

Is there a collection of dreams

On the other side of time

Or gently recycled

What was once yours

Is now mine

Do dreams rest well below the sand

Never to be unearthed or seen again

Fall like autumn leaves on a cold day

Raked together and thrown away

Or do they linger around

Like the smell of smoke in an old town car

Can you see them trying to survive

Like summer grass planted late in July

Do they hold any hope of reimurging

Like dreams floating up and resurging

Or do dreams walk away quietly

Not disrupting the feelings inside me

Or do they burn out bright and wildly

Dreams exist

Dreams must not die

It gives me hope

To run fast or fly

Some are real

Some uncertain

Take the time

Pull back the curtain

In each of us I am certain

Behind humanities weary seam

We will find

Each one of us has a dream