The old house hums
Creaks
And buzzes
Waking up on a chilly
March morning
Only weeks left until moveout
Temporary abode turnaround
A life in the arts bring about
Uncertainties
For the sake of art though
Certainly
Chimes bustle
Take away
And give back
To move forward
And never look back
Goodnight lights
Off to bed
Stories of the day
Drift off in my head
Waltz away from worry
And into the night
Five deep breathes
Everything will be alright
Unfair competition
With no surprise
How can you expect one with
Golden toilets
To see through everyday
American eyes
Lost hope in the nation capital
It’s sorry
But invaluable
That we the people represent
We the people
We must watch for each other
Protect each other
When other do not
When the upper top
Are only representing the one percent
With little hope
And no repent
Rapid
Strange
Delicate dreams
Wrapped up
In insulated seams
Edison lights dangle
From ascending beams
How quickly influenced we are
By first glances
First impression
Wrong intentions
Miraculous moments
Seas rolling
Hearts growing
We do our best in memory
Moments
And potential
Today’s goals
Are yesterday’s seeds
Seeding
Helping to fulfill others
Dreams
A copper truck pulled past the old house
In a slightly eerie fashion
A decisive notice was cast on our house
On a pad of transient fibers
The ill fated hum of the multi ton
As is barreled past the house
The notice it left us was tenuous
Staring at us
Straining us
The copper truck barreled on
Sitting on the train
construction everywhere
A man is over on the side
The sign says only five dollars
to shine your pair.
Aggression floats around
horns honking
Stressing
Great uncertainty uncurling
A forrowed brow
Then I see a women weave in and out of the crowd
Pushing
Bumping
Moving fast
No consideration
Maybe consideration is a thought of the past
Gosh…What is going on out here?
Chaos
And a certain Anarchy
Fill the air
At the breakfast Buffett
An American treat
The buzz
Beep
Pop
Talking Tv
Roaring conversation
Sunlight waking the edges of the room
All on their way soon
In the breakfast buffet room
What sense is it all to keep going
When the darkest seems to lie ahead
No way to get ahead
When my best just comes up short
When words fall in the wrong order
Or when I have no order at all
Why keep pushing on
Why keep writing
It helps deal with the overbearing burden
Of my own expectation
My own internal complications
Not for you
Not for pleasure
At most times just for my own good measure
So when I lay down
I can out gain my own expectations
That is the one hope I have
And giving up has no place in my heart
Life is short
Create ART
Moments of Poetry
In the everyday
In the every moment
In NYC
From unique to pretty
Amazing to shitty
The brisk nature of the movement
Keeping our sights focused
Finding buses
Holding keyboards
Holding hope
Holding dreams
In New York City
Coffee relax and true
Turning up the mornings to sunshine
From the cold dew
Breaking the day with acidic sweetness
Fresh roasted melancholy satisfaction
A cup of coffee will due
When that is through it is back to the board
Lifting up thoughts new
This is what coffee can do
