The Dust Migration

How can dust exist in such plethora

Consuming humans in black filth

Penetrating apartments with stealth

What is the creator

The destroyer

Yet it plooms from every

Vehicle brimming black and burdened

From the backs of trucks

Tossed lightly into the air

To begin it journey

Destination unknown

Yet it flies just softly enough

Through the screens

Into our homes

Where it land

Collects friends

Possibly propagates

Until we have the motivation to cleanse

Purging our home from such creations

Out the shoot

And back into the circle

Of the dust migration

Minutes take Seconds

Arise

Awake

So much is at stake

Minutes take seconds

To change

In one instant

The hard work

Begins to rearrange your life

New opportunities await

Challenges left hurdled

In your wake

Do not sleep past the rising sun

The morning calls

Opportunity calls

Arise

Awake

 

I Fear the Mold

I fear the mold

The uniformity theory

Of stripping conscious dignity

Of the you

Me

Pushing us forward

Never to look back

A pack of wolves

Now breathing down

My back

I fear the mass productions

Facilities

Consistency is key

Holding the soul back

From being free

I understand

Accommodating the masses

But with accommodation

Comes subtle backlashes

Loss of autonomy

Fostering dependancy

I look up

See arrows pointing ahead

I can’t help but wonder

If I’d be

Better off

Dead

 

2 Stairs

2 flights of stairs

2 more stairs

Who cares

I am counting

Legs burning

From constant churning

Click and trip

Hold myself on the

Red stick

That makes a railing

The no smoking sign above my head

Make it to the second floor

Then off to bed

Misrepresented Presumption

Over time

Challenges will get easier

But I have lived under the

Misrepresented presumption

I assumed with all known gumption

That somehow

It would get easy

But easier does not imply easy

Easy implies lack of trying

Lack of trying implies lack of caring

So life for me

Will never be easy

Nor would I want it to be

If difficult becomes easier

It becomes manageable

Not easy

Manageable means you still

Must give your best

Under new conditions

Yet the same test

But the false truth

That life would get easy

Was misleading me

Tempting me

Causing me more harm than known

Holding me back from where

I could have grown

I now know and understand

That the true tests of being a man

Will never be easy

And I hope they never will

I hope life continues to test my growing

Will

But I will learn

I will grow

Taking each passing test as I go

Life will never be easy

I will accept all challenges

With greatness of eager

With hope one day

These great challenges

Will be just a bit

Easier

 

 

 

Copious Caring

I will take your odds

As odd as it seams

To be on far fetched dreams

No reason or bearing

On the future or past

No reason for overbearing

Copious caring

I will take the odds

Stacked against my favor

To savor each moment

In a town of full life enrollment

I face critics pen and ready

To shake their heads and while

Keeping their hands steady

Conformity breeds

Bland crackers

Watering down

Running into the sewers

Out of the streets

I will take your odds

You odd game

Make my best

Consistently

And soon

I will see

 

Rush, Rush, Hurry

Rush

Rush

Hurry

Nothing is worse than

The rush

The bustle of peoples muscles

Pounding pavement

Pushing gas pedals

Standing in Subways

Rush

Rush

Hurry

Don’t let the mind sway or worry

Make it out in traffic

Sit and wait

Just to see if you can take

The

Rush

Rush

Hurry

Crazy Donna

You must go to Joey’s and get the clams

With her short hair and her deep eyes

Italian blood

But you know that story about Joey

She sighs

If he gets cheap and doesn’t give you the fresh

Flour bread

Let him know

Crazy Donna from Cookie Box

Said

“He’s dead!”

We spent the morning chatting

In the gym

On the stationary bike

She was straight out of

The godfather

Or Sopranos

I was so much intrigued

Her stories had my mind fatigued

These stories that loom on these streets

You must take time to listen

To stories of the pre-madonna

and the truely gritty

All float above the belts

Of mouths

In New York City

Subtle Plans

Planes circle overhead

Outside dust stained windows

Bustling people away and close

Making their way from coast

To coast

On the ground cars rage honking

Swirling

Speeding

People walking

Talking

Thinking

Ignoring

We hold hands

Weaving through the crowds

With subtle plans

We think

We can

We hope

We plan

In New York

No second guess

No delay

Or deferred progress

But I sit wondering

Looking at the planes overhead

Shuffling the people around the world

New York to LA

In clear light

Late in March

On a sunny day

 

 

Crackling Light

The evening sun

Crackles through the apartment

Reminding us

We are free

The life we live under this sun

Is up to you and me

I can see the dust kick up

As we fold the sheets

Feeling life

In our finger tips

We will make it in a new city

One step at a time

Wooden floors

And vintage heaters

Making note to feed the parking meters

Our life is new

But still the same

We will change anew

In a new place

A new time

We will see it through