Through the window
At my old
Decrepit
Apartment
I can see
A new building
High rise built
In the back
Through a courtyard
I see dim lights
Glowing in warm rooms
Delicate structures
Mantles hanging
While golden geese
Swoon
Through the old window
With a moldy AC
I can see
How the others live
In NYC
Was it worth leaving
As I watched the washing machine
Spin
Spin
It was only 25 minutes
A brisk walk at best
Then have to head right back
Nah
I’ll just stay
It’s only 5 degrees
Too cold for a walk
Spin
Which cycle now
Water sloshes from side to side
I’m glad I chose to rest
I’ve been pretty tired
Busy day at the laundromat
Sunday morning
I think it almost done
It would have had to have been a quick walk
But I am glad I stayed
Hell or hello
Only one letter apart
So close yet so far
In both meaning
And reproach
Hello
Or
Hell
Which will it be
Wars mentioned in the news
Held up in a moments
Giving me the blues
All the screw balls and confusion
Who has the control
Who is trying to diffuse
Hold on tight I guess
The world it seems
Once was tidy
Now a mess
The medical scatter
Over the mountains and
Through the woods
Holding our health
While they could
Medical scatter
From denial chatter
Hope reservoirs pumped with dreams
It is true
Nothing is quite
As it seems
Put a fork in my cynical mind
The daily youthful yell
I emit while laying on my side
A gorgeous hope
Of a sick pretender
Hold high your hands
In bittersweet surrender
The gabby daily papers
Running underneath my fingers
As the pencil rests
Against the foamy green desk
Put a fork in my cynical mind
Hold on until the bitter end
Take all you can get
Don’t give in
Desire crept into evening dreams
Fills you up with evil things
Bird sing
While a dove flies
Hold on to the bitter end
Friends
While we are all alive
Explain the copper wires
Running through my head
The hum of an ill-fated truck
Rumbles distant from my bed
I notice a neat and tenous
Stretch of thought
Running through my veins
Too educated to unite
To high up to rise
These are the excuses we all devise
As the old truck hums
In the distance
Should we
Shall we
Can we
We can
We will
Maybe we should not
Hold on to hope
Where hope does not grow
Let go
Of a facade of hope
Growing old
A grey off colored late morning
The pendulum of metronome
Clanks from within the construction walls
The paisley building stand
Juxtaposed to billboards and lights
The creamy paleness of the Queensboro Bridge
Speckles with lights and cars
Crawling slowly over
And crimson and white lines smoke
Stacks litter the sky
Industrious
Illustrious
The east river is covered from sight
The land filled with energy
Motion
Magnificient architecture
Glistens well into the night
A New York view
New to me in a way
But still the same
And true
A Cup of Songwriting 