Bitter Styrofoam Celebrity
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Tag Archives: Writing
The High Sky
On a brisk walk under November skies
The weather cold dark and grey
How would one ever know
That one thousand pounds of weed
Was falling my way
One foot ahead of the other
Walking in a winter fashion
Passing others waving
Making no point to be an attraction
Snow gave way to firm concrete underneath
A light chatter of crackling snow and ice
Under my feet
I glance at the horizon
Just up enough to see
That a dark black object
Hurtling toward the earth
And me
I quicken my pace to a jog and clear the way
I now know something is falling
Falling right towards my direction
As it nears the ground
50 feet or so
I notice it is about 8 bags of so
They fall to the ground as haystacks tossed
I begin my decent to discover the fallen goods
There is no way that I could have truly understood
Here is 100 lbs of weed fallen from the sky above
Heavenly dank sent from the angels with love
Upon that day I reached a new level high
With the gifts I received
That fell from the sky
The Genius of Catch
If Not for Perfection
–
I wish not for perfection
Rather somewhere
At the intersection
Of preparation
And the continuation
Of ones course
–
The readiness is created
By all the time spent
Re-taking
Take after take
Just for one good virtuous shake
The artist prepares with good intent
Content on rehearsal
Frustrated with constraint
Holding the power to change
Is the key to arranging
The true masterpiece that lies within
–
The strokes fall smooth on the page
Many hours have been spent
To create this moment
In this perfect age
The feelings and the artistry dance
Upon the blank canvas
Creating great swaths of golden hues
No reason to overdue
Simple strokes and committed lines
Hours spent caressing this craft
To create a mindless illusion
The genius of catch
–
Illustrious moments turn to intricate delicacy
As the grand swaths revolve to small movement
This is where preparation meets commitment
Where the small lines have the greatest impact
No thought or stroke left un-in-tact
This creation flows from the mind
Through the heart and blood
To the muscles and fingertips
Out onto the canvas
–
So what was once within
Can be seen without
Having to speak or convey
The image left upon the page
The true masterpiece
A Mouth Full of Iron
Just because I am broke
Does not mean that I am broken
–
The heart broken
Knows the languish for success
–
This languish can only be known
Through heartbreak and distress
–
The world around me spins
Yet I have to catch my druthers
–
In a life that is given
One must learn to rely on others
–
But that bitter irony
Creates a burn in ones mouth
–
Leaning on hopes of easier roads
Leaves the heart less than whole
–
Rust collects on the resting
One must move so no dust can begin collecting
–
Subdued Indiana terrain
Toughened the skin with winter pain
–
A mouth full of iron
Cracked on all sides
–
Makes me wonder
Whats is the next curve in life
–
What awaits
What gives what takes
–
Yet
–
Just Just because I am broke
Does not mean that I am broken
Corporate Greed
Corporate Greed
Wants
to feed me
A GMO
I said NO
–
Belly swollen with chemicals
Repulsed by
Shriveled testicles
They can keep their damn GMO’s
The Dreamer of No Dream
For the dreamers in the world
Who have no dream
Who own the tug boat
With it, no steam
–
For the wonderers
Hoping for all the good
This world can bring
But to afraid to sing
–
Living life out on the edge
For nothing more
Than a simple pleasure
Their life to give
–
I ponder these wondering souls
They wonder the streets
Never quite up
Never quite down
–
The careless attitude they possess
No thought for the formal
No trial for scrutiny
No firm contra success
–
I am grinning as I write
About this loving souls
They have no lingering care
As their bodies grow old
–
I hope that I posses such traits
Striving for life and its blessings
With no crudeness for advantage
Happiness truly is the ultimate bandage
–
I am lifted by simple smiles
The thought of easy hearts brings me back
The dreamer of no dream
Is quite more sophisticated than it seams
–
So here is to the wanders
I hope you find what you seek
Your heart is happy
And your adversaries’ weak
–
Here is to you
Keep the dream alive and well
So one day
Your story you can tell
Barbaric Nature
Baffling word barbaric in nature
Wondering if what these words mean
Could have foreseen me in danger
Biting at every corner confused
Bemused with conjunction and function
These words have settled me amusing
Creating concrete facts I am using
Never the language I am abusing
Tyring to learn a new flow and rhyme
All to be done
Not just part time
Every day
Every line
I write
Comes a new idea a new inspirations
Condensation of the mind
And spirit
Upon the paper written
In my mind I hear it
The words fell off my fingers touching
Connecting each other puzzles solved
The simile resolved
I move on to contracted spirits
And to a path contingent
On the next line
The next phrase
For each word written
Is now where the sentence lays
Call Out
Practice hard
Churn them out
That is what the songwriting life is all about
It is no matter where you are
You have to do
And sing from your heart
That makes songs worth writing
Fingers sliding and bending
Notes ringing and clinging
To every syllable and vowel
That sings from this mouth
Out into the world
To scream and shout
That new songs will be birthed
From hand and shovel
Pulled from the earth
And given a life to live
In peoples ears
This is the gift to give
The Daily Routine
Ah the challenge of keeping creativity alive in my life. As I am pulled to try and sell the art and the creations that have already occurred. It is hard sometimes to step back and try and let the creative juices be heard. So I sat down to try and document my daily routine of keeping creativity alive in my life. So here it is – enjoy!
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A Cup of Songwriting 