Waning Moments of the Night

In the waning moments of the night

As the eve relinquishes to a morning call

That is when we must give our all

Not when the path is clear and certain

Certainly when it is most uncertain

When the stage is not yet set

Sleeping behind a pulled curtain

My hope is to rise in those moments

Tested and true

Both of us together

Me and You

Angel Investor or Debt Collector

Continue to write

Question

Inquire

The creative process shall never tire

Agendas will be set

And disrupted

Hope bursts like a bubble

Whose flight has been interrupted

The job of the artist is to set free

Ideas before they can be accepted politically

To stay pure in original thought and progression

Artistic pursuit on the mind like an obsession

I will not put hope in others

Not those who claim to rise above the rest

As if us the collective whole

Was just a second best

Rather these words are our power

When we are powerless

We can still speak

And be heard

Every single word will land on an ear

No great cause can be pursued with fear

Rather we go forth and seek truth

Writing the words that resonate with me and you

Not waiting for an angel investor or debt collector

We all will write and be heard

Be heard

This truth I have written on January 3rd

A Song to See Me Through

There is a song that can be played

Over a thousand times and

Never ring old or untrue

A song that is played at wedding times

A song that is by your side in difficult times

To help see you through

To jump on in pure celebrations

To lean on in times of sadness and frustration

There is a couple of chords

A melody so light and easy

That it is played for someone in a wedding gown

Or when you have to lay a loved one down

It can draw tears in the morning

As the sun becomes anew

Falling tears touching cheeks

As water trickles on grass

In the morning dew

There is a song

Played in these time of jubilation

But also in times of desperation

It is a song that celebrates life

But also reflects on what is right

What is right is that there is a song

A song that exists in all of us

That we must sing to each other

From my soul to you

So we can see each other through

The Contaminated Mind

Trash dumps filled with leftover garbage

Garbage bags filled with pieces and puddles

These puddles draw out into spaces

Spaces filled with black remains

Stains upon white napkins

Akin to other refuse piled in lumps

The waste collects from experience and form

From all the toxic air and electricity 

Running from head to toe

Upon this I know that I have a polluted mind

Taken away from the productive line

Filled with worries of which I have no control

Over the flow of my life and the rhythm in which I live

Overflowing with fears of a new life lived

Why is the mess a strong figure in my eye

It takes away from the blue in the sky

Filling it with murky uncertainty 

Certainly I can change this inhabited space

With the greener liking 

A space where life can grow 

Leaves fold into the soil and build life anew

I must push forward and never look back

Pack all that I have and journey to greater lands

This is my challenge to set free 

The chaining’s of the must terrible kind

And let the trees and flowers bloom 

Replacing my contaminated mind

Swollen Hands

Her heart has more love to give

Then I’ll ever know

Her heart has more love to give

And she’s growing old

Time can harden your heart

Break you apart

And turn it into sand

With weary eyes

And weathered lines

No one would understand

These eyes see the world

Felt the knife slide through

Her swollen hand

Call the birds

Forget yourself

Put your ambitions on the shelf

No way to live

Don’t ask but give

Breeding nothing but bitterness within

 –

This heart has more love to give

Then I’ll ever know

This heart has more love to give

And we are growing old

When things get bad around you

Walls falling down too

I know what she’ll do

She will start again

With some new friends

A new life so far from the bends

Make her way

Cutting off the slack

Far away and never looking back

Then one day

She will turn and say

Things were never quite the same

She will know

That in her soul

Pain fades but never grows old