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
The city swells with summer anticipation
Participation in a phenomenon
Of chanting out the spring
Rushing in the summer
People begin to emerge late nights
On Manhattan Ave.
Speaking louder than in the cold months
Making new promises
Creating new lives to be lived
All this as the winter and spring
Give
Way to a new season
Of excitement
To relish again
That warm summer air
Forget winter cold
Take off your jacket
Live without a care
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
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
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
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
There is a particular Steely Dan song
That reminds me
Of when I was young
Being in the car with my father
Driving to school
I can’t make out the details
Something about Green Earrings
I remember these times fondly
The fatherly bond
Created through music and experience
I am not even sure that we talked
We just drove listening to the keyboard
Funk
Something happened in that moment
I can not tell you what
Or how
But I will remember it
50 years from now
Me and my dad
Listening to Steely Dan
On a drive to school
In a green Nissan
As the sun was cracking
From underneath
A winter dawn
I just don’t want to be homeless
Not on my birthday
Anyday
But that day
The world can kick you when your down
But I must find a way around
Being without a place to live
This home can not come to late
Or else I will be homeless
When I turn 28
City will fail Me
Displace me
Let me down
My mind
My voice
My reasons
Sometimes I get back up
At times you just lay down
No one asks questions
I just look around
And decide
Whether I should
Get back up
Inconvenient actions
Created by unstable minds
Lost my own time
Caught up in the winds
Created from ones whims
I get lost in anger and regret
Why is it that I should have to be set
On these feelings when I have stay quiet
My lips fall silent while my mind riots
I flow like water
Not held back by anything
Rolling and flowing
Taking life to the next scene
A Cup of Songwriting 