A Sunday morning in the city
The guys and girls
Sleeping in
From Saturday night
Getting pretty
The overachievers getting up
Getting to church
The streets have a certain quiet
A feeling of recovery
While the artists
Are up early
Catching great views
Hanging out window cells
And shooting
Music videos
The great neon money dispenser
The thick plastic and neon green
With standard equipped touch screen sensor
Blue LED asking to insert here
Holding wealth within its bosoms
Chipped sides from rolling luggage
Went awry
Incandescent lighting up the night
Place firmly on brick slabs
So I know what this machine is withholding
In its tight held stash
Please Mr. ATM
Give me some cash
If I owned a clone
More than just I alone
Could construct
And Labor
To create a home
Me
And
My clone
Could change the sheets
On the bed
Work while the other one
Read
Write
While the other can play
Me and my clone
Could find many uses this way
Sometimes we just need help
A four letter word
That keeps me from running to far off
On days
Where my pants are dirty
My mind worries
Where the next paycheck is coming
So I find myself running
Not with my feet
Constant thoughts
But then I get some help
It comes in any form
Off the beaten path and more the norm
These small gestures I suggest
Mean more day to day
Take sullen weights off my weary chest
I muse myself that the world can see my needs
Humanity in its entirety
Knows what I need
So I just have to remain steady
Hold on hope
That I can persevere
Through the sleepless nights
And life will return back
Resuming that it will be alright
My life is a not a series of beautifully crafted paths
It is as guided by decision
As by indecision
Commitment
And fear
It holds back for no one
No waiting for the clear
Life simply occurs
I react
Doing my best
Given what my limits of knowledge are
I go forward
I try not to look back
Focus on progress
And somehow
Eventually
I make it work
All these days seems the same
Feels like I crawl into a cart
Slide along the tracks
The same mono train
Colors look the same
Pale blue sky grey mist lines
At least through my eyes
I see the limestone steeples
Flanking amongst the light rain
Reaching to the skies
I can find some solace
In these remembrances
Go through the motions
So this is how I bring in the new year
Eyes closed hoping not to hear
News of things good and bad
Today is just a day to remember a great soul
As I walk toward the steeple
In the January Cold
Early morning callings
Waking up from dreams
Rain hits glass soft clipping steam
I think of what 2015 brings
2014 brought many things
New life
Loss of life
Friends
Reminding me that not every new year
Is your friend
But with age comes time
And with time age
Lives are born
While others taken away
So I lay in bed
2 days into the new year
Hope for the best
Hold back my fears
Of what time may bring me
with the New Year
Mine for the taking
Undertaking
Sincerity or faking
I withstand the scene
Seen on every TV
Commercial or contact layer
Layered with talk
Talking heads
As I wonder my own destiny
I neither own nor know
What lies beneath, below
I watch more heads talk
And await another round of snow
What is the cost of a dream
Not the capital or the initial investment
More importantly the hours laboring and spent
Rather than being well rested
What is the emotional cost
Is it two tokens
If I could somehow come up with a value
Two tokens of life
If it all works out do you get those back and more
Are you delivered from seeing your time
Wasted in hopes of achieving
Rather than just ending poor
And broken
What is the average
Per day
If not achieved is it wasted
Thrown away
Can I accept this
Failure is only owned when you label it
Give it a name and recognize it
But I refuse to do so
Call it reckless
But this is how it goes
I must continue on this path
Continue to let go
To see anything through
Through and renewed
To see what these life tokens can do
Continual postage
Send me on my way
Held back
Deferred another day
What can send me out
Into the world
Hurled out with no precise measure
Regardless of challenges or pleasures
This will be my postage
Paid upon sending
I have paid it due
For once my stamp is applied
I must see myself through
A Cup of Songwriting 