Nothing’s easy Nothing’s free

Nothing’s ever easy

And nothing’s ever free

No one’s ever happy

Unless another’s on their knees

Try your best to feel fine

Try your best to speak

Someone’s always coming round

With the answer like a creep

Cause nothing’s ever easy

Nothing’s ever free

Take two for your headache

Take five just to fall asleep

Try your best to ration

Try your best to feed

The world’s always been hungry

We’ve always had food to eat

Cause nothing’s ever easy

And nothing’s ever free

But son if you are honest

It’s there you’ll start to see

Words can fuel an army

Where the hells that apostrophe?

Dialect can save you

What’s left is up to me

In silence there is virtue

Inside you learn to breathe

No matter where life takes you

No matter who you meet you’ll see

Nothing’s ever easy

And nothing’s ever free

A Thought After Midnight

I’ve often wandered

through this life

marveling at

the wind blown trees

and buzzing humming bees

and usually does it seem

I’m falling aimlessly

on fantasies

but lately could it be

all this time

there was someone

day dreaming just like me?

Calm is the passing storm

Calm is the passing storm

from shelter’s mouth I view

Winds that whip the wrestling sea

from shelter’s mouth anew

Are waves which roar like lion’s breath

from shelter’s mouth I coo

How calm it seems the passing storm

from shelter’s mouth I view—a dinghy

in the water struggling, it’s a sailor

so uncouth—a sailor I once knew.

Heaven here on earth.

How curious it is that I

no longer beg or question why

but rather like the naked eye

accepts the sky is blue—

with honesty and strength that I’ve

been granted through these tales of time

woven as one as you are I

accepts the ancient truth,

for like the moon and sun decide

to shed or shield eternal light

with arms spread thin wide opened eye

keep mine closed now to see,

what beauty lies beyond the pine

is neither up to you nor I

it’s always been like time gone by

regardless of the proof—

in truth it’s curious that I

could feel so pure estranged from life

whose meadow in the golden light

is heaven here on earth.

Cupid’s always looking in

This life’s a beautiful disaster penned one summer long ago

I mean who was I kidding just a kid on the East Coast

So I took my car and drove off found myself out on the road

I was so sure I was different but so scared of letting go

Had this girl her name was pure like it was written in the stars

I first met her in the backseat of my good friends mother’s car

And I don’t quite know how it happened tangled alone in the dark

But she showed me true compassion for a badly broken heart

And if you ever saw the way her fingers danced upon my hand

Love’s an infinite reminder I just couldn’t understand

She was beautiful regardless of the way things had to end

I’m just happy to have seen her grown and happy as a friend

Somewhere before and after I had lost my innocence

Was a child when I said come on let’s go what’s happening

Like a judge biting my tongue so long held on to my defense

Till one day it all poured out like a volcano from my head

You talk too much don’t talk enough try this paper and pen

I think that it’ll help to write it down is what she said

And of course guess what it happened but this time in a kitchen

We were kindred drunk and carefree at first sight I do admit

I wasn’t looking for a lover in retrospect needed a friend

But that’s the way it happens Cupid’s always looking in

When she took me without question I knew something had to give

Had more talent in her pinky than I swear I ever did

And she tried hard to convince me I was good at fitting in

Still my anger got the best of me and then the fear to live

See it took 6 months of depression just to make one decision

I would have should have could have now son that’s no way to live

I thought if I just disappear perhaps I’d be no one’s burden

But learned life is a disaster that you somehow have to live

So I packed my bags one day and gave myself unto the wind

Hell I’ve been kicking rocks forever so I’m hella used to it

See there’s no way of ever knowing how tomorrow’s gonna end

You just get up brush your hair and then go do it again

Still love’s an infinite reminder I’ve tried so hard to understand

It always makes more sense when you’re left with empty hands

Like a psychic I am reading all the lines riddles and man

I can see it all so clearly first accept yourself and then

Maybe you get lucky one day in Central Park

Or perhaps while spilling coffee on a stranger after dark

There’s a reason for each season as one ends one’s soon to start

It only takes a moment kiddo ready on your mark

a loneliness grave.

I spared him a quarter

alone where he stood

next to the Madonna

as if she’d do him good.

He gave me a blessing

gentle and aware

the wind it was violent

messing both our hair.

While Girl Scouts are selling

cookies for the troop

a week ago maybe

someone died on that stoop.

But don’t tell their mothers

as if they would care

no you don’t get the badge unless

you’ve sold your soul there.

My eyes they grow weary

still I can’t look away

at the hummingbird dancing

a loneliness grave,

still I’ve got this feeling

that there’s no escape

am I ok to drive? I guess or else just look away.

Am I ok to drive? I guess, if not well either way.

At the cafe I buy coffee

either iced or cold brew

the barista he tells me

nothing’s ever new.

But still I ask questions

like how do you do

and she recalls my name

it’s the least she could do.

I don’t mean to sound faithless

I’ve just seen enough kicks

see the old man he died, well

some things never make sense.

It’s slight of the hand, it’s

a scam with three cups

you follow the ball then

it’s gone where it was.

My eyes they burn red with

the heat of the day

it’s winter in Burbank

what more can I say,

still I’ve got this feeling

that there’s no escape

am I ok to drive? I guess or else just look away.

Am I ok to drive? I guess, if not well either way.

Now I take to the bar, where

Happy Hour’s till 6

Scott the tender he knows me

pours my whiskey then gin.

What’s the good word? Pal, tell me

do you think that you could

spare me knowledge like change would

do me some type of good.

I don’t stay past the hour

happiness never lasts

after shame there comes flowers

then of course there’s the past.

You’re a good guy he tells me

see the pain never lasts

I assure you it does, Scott

he just nods then he laughs.

See there’s beauty in living

it’s just hidden by stars

who illuminate sidewalks

like two subtle hearts,

still I’ve got this feeling

that there’s no escape

it’s an obvious cycle, one I’ll never break.(?)

Am I ok to drive? I guess or else just look away.

Am I ok to drive? I guess, if not well either way.

Yet still I turn to the East in longing.

I was nothing more than excuses,

a great big ball of disappointment

which she tried desperately to employ.

At the bottom of it, I was fragile and weak.

In the pits of despair I looked to love,

but could not fully know love without

loving myself, which by terms of engagement

were cut like beautiful red ribbons from her hair.

Give me death, I’d beg.

Give me peace, I’d scream,

unaware that there was any difference between.

Still she’d try, day in and day out, pushing forward

like an endless train car of hopeful desire.

We’d even escape together too

with nothing but the wind to guide our path

and the rise and fall of the sun to persuade us forward.

Knee deep in the escape of journey we’d prevail,

until of course the final push where and when

like a wrecking ball of fate our souls would wither

in the crest of the sun upon the blind horizon.

Even now, I still turn my sights inward

reminded of her beauty and strength,

channeling it outward where I can walk

head turned high among the many shapeless eyes

who know nothing of my past, care nothing of my future

who’d rather see me not than to judge.

Yet still I turn to the East in longing.

And like all those many times before I know

even if we were to change(our minds) we couldn’t.

Though my count of crows is high

I know that one day it will be but one.

Until then I’ll keep this in my breast pocket

along with my sunglasses, where I reach for them sometimes

when my heart is heavy

where I can’t bear to look away

where I gaze into the distant clearing

and watch grasshopper spring

from golden stalk to golden stalk

blissful in the quiet light.

the birds

I don’t aim to fly higher than high.

I just aim

and well(that’s enough for me),

the rest is for the birds.

I am an illusion

It took losing

everything,

to come to the conclusion

that I am an illusion

and we’ve always had

— from the beginning —

everything

to gain.