Oh what questionable distractions
Attractive as first glance
Quaint and uneasy
Under examined
The sun
The sky
The moon lit nights
Palm trees
Oh the goodness of distraction
The fruitfulness of sanity
Returned from a distant place
Now and again
My distracted zen
The rally cry of the tired
A worthy cause flamed out with vigor
Passing floating rolling
I have tried
To do good
Good to be undone
So much has to rely on a rally cry
When your tired
And lonely
Not alone
You feel sad
Disconnected from the world
How did it work out not the way it was
All planned
A plane in flight unmanned
The plane now is in the final descent
It will land
How
Unknown
But through all of this
I
We
Have grown
Grown up
So here we come
Under the Empire sun
The city resets in the evening
Continual receiving
Thick lines run blurred into the night
The world centers herself
Around the NYC shelves
From Jackson Heights
To the Bushwick and Greenpoint
We held hands
As we felts our way
Through a city heralding a
Skyline
Heralding
The sun
We blink our eyes
Rub them dry
To see the Empire sun
Settle over the western sky
Over the east river
We await
Waiting
For yet another day
If this were to be my desperation attempt
Would you hold me in contempt
Under the Michigan summers sun
Beams burning my skin and tongue
Speaking words grasping at meaning
Uneven and fleeting
Like sand on beaches creeping
Back from waters and storms
Clouds rolling in on Michigan shores
Attempting and achieving
While words soar with sophisticated meaning
I have no plan
No great devise
To make it out of here
Under these burnt pink skies
I wish there was more to offer
With words from poetic authors
But for now I settle my bones
On summers sands and thawed out winter shores
In a desperate attempt to reach out
Move my lips with breathe
And shout
That life offers more than deep discounts
But mounts heavy on lazy fingers
Swelling in summer season
I have but yet one reason
To attempt my voice
To give light to my choice
And rejoice
In this desperation attempt
And the message goes
In these words I have sent
People are at the heart of the city Pumping through the veins of streets alleyways tunnels metros and do the skyscrapers
Keeping the towers breathing and vibrant
With no people these artifacts would collect dust and deconstruct
Without these bodies with hearts pumping this city would die
In vacant earth
It is the men and women that keep these skylines alive
The janitor the construction worker
The business man the musician all working for one
Keeping the city alive and well
The streets are moving with people
Pushing and sliding in and out of stores and restaurants
Keeping the city alive and well
A Cup of Songwriting 