This news
Is nothing new
We just should have knew
That politics and corruption
Is all part of the stew
That these posers brew
In the private of lives
They steal the stars from the sky
But what do I know
I have no job
Nowhere to go
Just an itch to write
I am for truth
But rather write what I simply know
Starting to see
The boundary scene
Where and what will
Happen
To my life
Over the next year
My hopes
Fears
All playing
Out
In real time
Quick steps taken
In sequence
Of one another
While I wait out the direction
Slow the steps
Now with more intention
From here I
Go
Grow quickly
In this time
To reflect
For the time to
Show up
Will soon come
And that is when
The growth
Is shown
Walking into the room
Of debonair air
Confidence
Wrapped in golden dreams
Broken loose
At the seems
Is it what it seems
As slick as a midnight limo
Fluid as a stream
Null word
Will leave less of an impression
As a state of degradation
Watering down the hopes
Of all the nation
My pail zest
On a spring day
From the wintery holds
Of the bitter grey
I emerge
Ready for spring
What the summer rays
Will bring
The only way up
Is never to complain
To ask to start again
To wither in the hope of progress
But to advance
Head above the dust
Feet planted on the ground
Working for the moment
Pushing all around
From the dash of the withered
One pushes slowly on
On and on
Up and up
Move any way
Rather than giving up
Along a winding path
Paved sun-glazed cement
Baked with a hazy grey sealant
With summer shoes
Raking the rocks
Along the freckled
Grass
Sunscreen scented fragrances
Illuminating hiatus
Under the strung out
Santa Monica Sun
The franchise virus
Growing from the roots
Of a dead cypress
Cold pressed nightmares
Held up by titans
Each man has a turn
To flame the words
Caught up on the wings
Of drunken birds
By night
And by day
What the naysayers say
Is the franchise lies
Being manufactured day
And night
