Tag Archives: Twitter

Blue Print Plan

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Hard to imagine

That my body is not the same

As five years ago

There is no blue print plan

Mentality expands

Trading wisdom for youth

I don’t recognize the latter

In a picture

Or anything for the matter

Music a new pathway sends

Seeing sunsets through revitalized lens

How is it that I can be the same

Not feeling anything the same

Physically all new

Just the name

Is the one part that stays the same

Yet my mind continues on a linear path

For it is a wonderful question to ask

How we can rebirth ourselves

Yet maintain the constant roots

Even when I awake before the dew

It is still me

It is still you

Greasy Hand Salutation

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The fast food fascination

Greasy hand salutation

Black fingernail sludge

With no regard

Just a lopsided smudge

How many mouths enjoy

What the corporate supply chain

Has fed down the drain

From this repulsive trap

We consume such meat

Prestige as if it where a treat

Not one question is asked

Until the collective conscience

Is fully grasped

Then we become more aware

More in tune

Of what is going on in the room

By then our bellies are full of antibiotics

The green eyed optics

Somehow we agreed to this tender

Although we never saw

The face of the sender

Robotic Eclectic

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Plug me in

Thoughts outside the program

Are the ultimate sin

Emotions are fouls

As older feels

Under the jowls

We are now bread to be emotionless

Plug in technology

Meaningless

How is it

That the one trait

That secures our own humanistic state

Is now to be sought out

Shot down

Not welcomed

Frowned

The highest sense of awareness

Is trumped by sedentariness

Now generations are called to the lowest

Common denominator

I hold my emotions with pride

It is what makes humanity real on the inside

Robotic eclectic humanistic

Is not for me

Realistic

So I will stay unplugged

In the most literal sense

Connected human sense

Until I am not allowed

Humanities Weary Seam

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Where do lost dreams go

From the heads of dreamers

To the world outflow

Do dreams dry up and fall away

Do dreams pack up on a rainy day

Is there a collection of dreams

On the other side of time

Or gently recycled

What was once yours

Is now mine

Do dreams rest well below the sand

Never to be unearthed or seen again

Fall like autumn leaves on a cold day

Raked together and thrown away

Or do they linger around

Like the smell of smoke in an old town car

Can you see them trying to survive

Like summer grass planted late in July

Do they hold any hope of reimurging

Like dreams floating up and resurging

Or do dreams walk away quietly

Not disrupting the feelings inside me

Or do they burn out bright and wildly

Dreams exist

Dreams must not die

It gives me hope

To run fast or fly

Some are real

Some uncertain

Take the time

Pull back the curtain

In each of us I am certain

Behind humanities weary seam

We will find

Each one of us has a dream

The Sweet Coffee Croon

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Out the window

A new view

Of a city on the northern end

Sunswept USA 

Cloudy holding pattern

On the skies of gray

Friends of one another

Iron clad stories conversations

Happy and sad

Feet popping out of sandals

Summer fires are now past due

Which leaves just me and you

In this cafe 

Flipping crisp new pages 

A delicate smell of expensive hand wash

Worn about the white room

Back on the open road soon

For now we swoon each other

With mellow mugged coffee to croon sweet into

Satisfaction Distraction

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The simplicity

Of a satisfaction distraction

On path

For an encore at the end 

Of the work

Keep our hands covered

Like the county clerk

Jobs over perspective

It will be a shame in the great

Retrospective

For now we entertain our minds

With a immediate need

Rather than the sign of the times

Our in action becomes a soothing

Distraction

I hold hope that we can realize

That the ice caps melt

Our simple wants

Are going to be answered

While our deafening blow is dealt

Rise hope for future generations

Mine is caught in stagnation

Throughout thr nation

We watch

We hope 

We think

Yet our delayed reaction 

To a satisfaction distraction

The Target of a Padded Pocket

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Cecil the Lion was slain

By nothing more than a human stain

Utmost disrespect paid

In each US dollar

Held all the locals

By the fabric of their collar

To get his intended target

He came prepared with padded pocket

I could barely stand to hear it

While he enjoyed to watch it

It is an unfortunate play

A game of intended consequence

Now we have one more reckless action

To answer for

It makes the honor of being American

Feel more destined to sicken me

Than free me

We now wear another badge of recklessness

Story of money paid for another nations trophy

Coldly executed

Lured out and destroyed

This making a living plucking plaque

Pleases himself with the attack

Of a icon

A symbol

Go ahead and cash it in your criminal

Let the fluorescent lights of your office

Offer a scathing reminder

That no bleach can undue

Hang your trophy on the shelf

But please never forgive yourself

The Sensitivity of Progress

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To hold or let go

To live

Or grow old

We shoulder these decisions

In what I learn

What I know

The sensitivity of progress

Can be held up

Reset

Regress

If proper attention is not paid

To forward motion

And progress

I obsess

About the shape my mind

Creates

The inner monologue

That projects my final epilogue

“My journey will never get easier”

To a stranger I said

He quickly replied with no fetter

“True, but we only get better”

Joy: The Elastic Life

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Oh the joy of redemption

To give life a exultant expression

When it pushes you to the end

Past the point of a simple bend

To the breaking convex

Not easy but rather complex

It gives back

One small ounce

To help push the mind

From the weathered mounds

The joy that can be felt

When life tries to help you out

Picks you up a bit

After seeing you almost drown

I am happy for these days

To be enjoyed and endured

To see a light in the woods

When all of life seemed unsure

Sweating Souls

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Love makes summer seem

Soft and seemingly subtle

Keeps the air

From sweating my soul

Hands touch hands

Cheering in splashes

Crashing soft on the shores of

The ocean

Winds of sands blown

On the southern beaches of

Virginia

8 hours from home

For it is in Love

That we are truly never

Alone