The velvet blue seats
Set adjacent to the table circles
Whirled with oak floors
The Brooklyn Coffee Shop
Full of headphones and beat up leather shoes
Glass windows giant to see through
I await my wife
In the Empire State
Under a sign that reads
Toby’s Estate
The elusive ghost
Chased through streets
Competing with our hands
Feet
Mouths open and close
Drifting words hung
Before the evening repose
This unattainable drifting ghost
My soul collapses on Wednesday
To only renew the next day
The brittleness of surviving
Well below the standards of
Living well and thriving
Conniving thoughts land soft
When arriving
Then dismissed in the thought abyss
Of carrying on
This day I just long for easy nights
Well rested then feeling alright
Keeping the feelings down
In my mind
In time
I will find
A rhyme of words
To keep me ahead
Instead of walking
Flying
In moments of desperation
It’s feet ahead
Eyes wide open
To just keep on trying
A single bird flies down Manhattan Avenue
2 wings flapping strong in the wind
Gentle acceleration
Calling out lightly at 6 AM
Such stillness can exist in the city
High hitting trains come to a stop
To see this small bird perched atop
The brownstones of Brooklyn
Resting its wings
To begin it’s ritual sing
Lighten the roads with laughter
The clanking of iron clad walls
Retracted
Open for business now
Seemingly attractive
Deliveries on time and delayed
Now I rush out the door
To see the bird fly away
Manhattan means of hustle
Cannot be outdone
The city’s soul
Worn and wrung
The pace of growth
So fast and known
The life investment
Can build or take your home
So we jump in
Head first
Awaiting new phone calls
The hunger and thirst
My brain in a bottle of kombucha on a ride through the rockies
Fermented and pressurized ready to explode
Some days my mind winds up so fast
With nowhere to go
Those days seem to be the most frustrating
Deranging
Planning becomes insufficient
My minds moves quicker than a prayer to St. Vincent
Contingent on results
That can no be provided quick enough
To ease my worried thoughts
I wish I was more thought delayed
Taking my days with quite more ease
Rather than trying to just run away
The mind can be a mild pond or a ravenous sea
Somehow I am the one who decides
It’s ultimately up to me
The tall heights of towers
Lingering over industrialized edges
Waterfront
West of the city
Graffiti rich in depth and texture
From the skies to my feet
Greenpoint on the edge of the East River
Stirring up dust
Unsettled
Tell the tale
Of a big town
On the banks of the Hudson
The country mind
Somehow growing up dreaming of the city
The bright lights
Open all night
The bustle of people
And feeling alright
Yet differently
How the city mind
Grows up dreaming of the country fields
Wind swept
Vast land appeal
There is no perfect remedy to this deal
For one desires the other
For the other can never be
What the city life provides
The country life will never be
So fill life full with many experiences
Long for the city
Long for the fields
The experiences we gain
We be our minds true yield
The breeze through the leaves of New York City
Any other city would be untrue
Somehow in a full town
It feels like just me
And you
There comes a point
When the life you dream
Becomes the life you live
There is no slowing down
No retreat
What you have to give
Must be in high quality
And on repeat
The dedication becomes meditation
Reaching for the highest moment
Unknown
The moments continue to grow
To make new opportunities
The moments can be less
About what you do
They begin to define
You
The unknown path of success
Teeters as much in my hands
As it does at rest
It balances not with my abilities
Talents or goodwill
It will find a line curved
Sloped sideways
And up a hill
The great challenge is to wait
Undisturbed
Knowing that I am
Unacquainted with the ways of success
It must pass from my hands
Through the eyes of onlookers
Into ears and slowly through hearts
Then it must make it way
Back out through the mouth
To adhere to other ears
Drumming to the sound of what is new success
These ears must then determine if my notes
Pass their discernment test
For which at this point
I have no possession of fluent success
It is now in the air we breathe
The sights we see
It is out there tucked away
Against the mess
Somehow
I can not define
What is success
A Cup of Songwriting 