The old fears
Dried up tears
Move up
Move out
All the changes happen
In specific time
And moments
We remove ourselves
To see the grand scheme
By it doesn’t mean a thing
When your heart is torn
The old fears
Dried up tears
Move up
Move out
All the changes happen
In specific time
And moments
We remove ourselves
To see the grand scheme
By it doesn’t mean a thing
When your heart is torn
Spilled milk on the Red Line
Veins of white
Rush down the floor
“That ain’t mine”
The lady with two hats on yells
The man
Visibly exhausted with his head back
Is not one inch close to conscious
As the white pours through the isle
Pictures being snapped
A moment catches
The woman with the bike laughs
Late night Red Line
Public transportation
Strange spilled iterations
As the winds wind through
The tunnels
Below the streets
Of L.A.
The desperate times
Desperate measures
Come up with something good
A productive measure
In times worn thin
As the veil of light
Through the morning curtains
We have to continue to
Rely on food decisions
To set us right
The coming days to be
Letting go of what was familiar to
You and me
A city
A life
For bigger and better
Discoveries and journeys
Letting go
While others hold so tight
That they squeeze the life
Out of the joy
Thy love
And love left
It will be
Aches and pains
Strange held hands
In a cold rain
Under red skies
Under falling leaves
In a lake
Not a sea
The aches and pains
Cities and lanes
Riding in the cars
Remain the same
Let the trolls
Roll
Let the birds
Fly upon them
I am sick of lies
Sick of tails
Tired of being the end
Of the joke
Let the chaos control
Roll out
On the world
11:57 The clock reads
Momentary and sedentary
I return to the road
We travel so often
Yet so unfamiliar
Unusual
The hope of unity
A collection of ideas
Almost perfect
But perfect in its imperfections
It has beauty despite moments
Of Lack of direction
Proceed on our journey
To find people
To share moments and peace
This is my idea to bring
Muddle and confusion
Marry the mellow quiet
With ruptured sounds of a digital empress
Defiant of the status quo
Holding on to the last of what was
What we used to know
The cell phone rings
Elbows locked in admiration
Swing around the border
Of the new order
Tech first feeling second
Defiant I remane
But I wonder what the world would be
With no technology
Would we be more advanced
If we were connected by glance
Instead of digital connection
A tacit code of life
Implied by technical lines
We are breakable and weak
In the eye of technology
Return to the pages
Settled in and getting away
Too long
Can get contagious
I don’t write
Due to lack of inspiration
Rather I am not writing
Because it has become
A lack of motivation
Unfamiliar sensation
But it is a coal covered jewel
Untouched as the days continue
First the idea sprouts
From mind to fingers
Scatters across the keys and onto the page
I resurrect the beast laying dormant
Back to writing and enjoyment
With rest comes ideas
Ideas with time
And now it is time to return
To the pages
To the writing burn
Articulate assembling
Summer salad created
Hands willfully picking the pieces
Assembling the creation at hand
Southern Indiana type of man
Years spent on the eastern seaboard
Now looking a bit more windward
Back against the jet stream
And to the midwest
Now creating companies with goals set
A man and his discovery
Looking for hopeful engagements
And full recovery
We sit for dinner
My wife and I
Engaged from side to side
Discussing his next adventure
From the countryside
A home set off in the distance
Off the country roads in existence
We discuss possibilities of new futures
I wish I could have seen this sooner