Tag Archives: New York

Holding the World

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The pale pastels of the lake

Freshened breath with no mistake

On the horizon a rusted thorn

On the Northwest tip is worn

My home state moves

No chance to hesitate

Offering big tax breaks

For the industrial rake

Tearing up the land

I have yet to ever understand

How we can destroy such beauty

Beauty of our land

The water and the sand

Taken for granted our homeland

I will look out to the lake and wonder

If there is a beauty of fresh water

Upon this earth so mild

It is both mother and child

We must honor the world so

Unless mistakenly

We let it go

Satisfaction Distraction

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The simplicity

Of a satisfaction distraction

On path

For an encore at the end 

Of the work

Keep our hands covered

Like the county clerk

Jobs over perspective

It will be a shame in the great

Retrospective

For now we entertain our minds

With a immediate need

Rather than the sign of the times

Our in action becomes a soothing

Distraction

I hold hope that we can realize

That the ice caps melt

Our simple wants

Are going to be answered

While our deafening blow is dealt

Rise hope for future generations

Mine is caught in stagnation

Throughout thr nation

We watch

We hope 

We think

Yet our delayed reaction 

To a satisfaction distraction

The Familiar and Strange

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A run in 

With the old hood

Unkept feelings brushing in

Like they should

Faces familiar and strange

Somehow the world spins

And the hood stays the same

The coffee is still sweet

With aroma swept out on the streets

I miss and fear this place

Staying in place

Erase time with a new perspective

With my heart strings

All interconnected

We left years ago 

To leave behind

The fields of northeast Indiana

Without a plan

We left our lives here

Unchanged and untouched

By the hands of time 

The Target of a Padded Pocket

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Cecil the Lion was slain

By nothing more than a human stain

Utmost disrespect paid

In each US dollar

Held all the locals

By the fabric of their collar

To get his intended target

He came prepared with padded pocket

I could barely stand to hear it

While he enjoyed to watch it

It is an unfortunate play

A game of intended consequence

Now we have one more reckless action

To answer for

It makes the honor of being American

Feel more destined to sicken me

Than free me

We now wear another badge of recklessness

Story of money paid for another nations trophy

Coldly executed

Lured out and destroyed

This making a living plucking plaque

Pleases himself with the attack

Of a icon

A symbol

Go ahead and cash it in your criminal

Let the fluorescent lights of your office

Offer a scathing reminder

That no bleach can undue

Hang your trophy on the shelf

But please never forgive yourself

The Sensitivity of Progress

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To hold or let go

To live

Or grow old

We shoulder these decisions

In what I learn

What I know

The sensitivity of progress

Can be held up

Reset

Regress

If proper attention is not paid

To forward motion

And progress

I obsess

About the shape my mind

Creates

The inner monologue

That projects my final epilogue

“My journey will never get easier”

To a stranger I said

He quickly replied with no fetter

“True, but we only get better”

Sweating Souls

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Love makes summer seem

Soft and seemingly subtle

Keeps the air

From sweating my soul

Hands touch hands

Cheering in splashes

Crashing soft on the shores of

The ocean

Winds of sands blown

On the southern beaches of

Virginia

8 hours from home

For it is in Love

That we are truly never

Alone

Low Flying Bird

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There is no final dance

No significant closing chance

Understated

Undermined

Love and Passion

Just takes a bit of time

No looking toward the sky

For a fulfilling sign

I stretch the curtains

Of my wandering mind

I refuse to let go

Claiming there is a closing time

In my mind the scene changes

Arranges the lines around me

I hear that the weary word

From the wings of a low flying bird

Flapping wings unheard

We bend at the knee

To touch the ground cold

As I maintain my posture

But am getting old

There is no final dance

No closing notes

I will not hang my life work

On that whimsical hope

Breathe

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The city Monopoly on top of me

Run me over

Push and topple me

The middle class is

High under siege

Who owns these buildings

I see

In front of me

Behind me

Who’s pieces touch the sky

Down to the ground

All around

The goal of surviving

Is miles short of thriving

On the ground struggling to breathe

Can feel like I am dying

Not on my death bed I am lying

To my soul

The energy it is supplying

Paycheck to paycheck

Account balance recheck

Food and meal not set

In a city with a finger

Lingering

On my reset

Surely Uncertainty

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Surely the uncertainty

Will certainly

Wear perfectly on

The real worthy

Feelings

Confirming me

Consciously

Putting me feet in front of me

Supposedly

There is a 1 out of 3

Chance

That whether we sing

Or dance

We will not have enough

Cash

To stash away

For the future

So we must take utmost precaution

With scalpel and suture

Sow our future

To know it can grow

And go where we hope it goes

Our future together

Must be stronger

Then when the wind blows

But truly

Who knows

Sympathetic Inflections

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I am no controlled spirit

Untamed and overgrown

My emotions can be so

Easily swung

Not the words that I am

Proud of

Not in pride am I congested

When I am over zealous

My heart can be to little

Protected

How is it that the same tricks

With new names

Can catch a heart beat

All the same

If I could only go under cover

Into my own deepest detections

Pull out the weakest of

Sympathetic

Inflections

So rather than pick up

The pieces from hopes unmet

I could let my heart down easy

Lay it to rest gentle

While it’s quiet on the set

However my heart will wrestle me

At every turn

Up and down

It’s always involved

Every choice

All around