Conversations overlapping.
Suitcase wheels rolling.
Babies sobbing.
Mothers calling.
Headphones blaring.
People scurrying.
PA system whispering.
Starbucks bustling.
Airplanes taking off and landing.
And in the middle of everything,
The lady in black.
Sitting motionless, hands grasping her
Black umbrella, her sleek black dress
Accentuating her young body,
And whilst a black veil covers her face,
Her tears shine through, reflecting
From the bright lights of the airport.
When you look closer,
Her slim body trembles with concealed sobs,
And her calm facade is broken
With closer inspection,
Broken inside from something undetectable from the outside.
The lady in black.
We have all been her.

two men
outside a starbucks
chainsmoking through
a saturday lunch

the sun is up
melting the snow at my feet
i wait for a bus that never comes

We celebrated on a ship abroad in a coffee shop.
We took our order to go, the view of the street clear.
The people smiled and adored their conversation.
A debate of what to try.
What to order.
This delicious smell.
Brewed dark, served light.
Foam covered lips.
A slited cap to release steam.
And here we are merely afloat.
We blend into the flavor.
I don't think I'll find a place as great.
An iceberg has sunken our ship.
Stirred around until all has dissolved.
This sailboat of ours coming to an end.
Crashing against our lips.
Directly against our tastebuds.
With us the remains of sweet rummage and cream

I pull up to the drive-in
My least favorite coffee shop
Nope, decide to park my car
Get out, forget to lock

Packed to the brim,
This pit looks grim
But I do need my coffee
They might as well
Open a hotel
And have a giant lobby

I wait in line 'till half past nine
No one has time for this
Only the hopeless addicts
And my name is on the list

I order a lot of latte,
But I am not prepared
Too sweet to eat, and much less drink
Four bucks? You think it's fair?

Between the screams of sugar
My tongue complains of ash
All I want is roasted beans
Not burnt. Too much to ask?

I feel cheated, chug it down
And throw away my cup
Off to work, and with a frown,
In traffic, I am stuck

Of course I talk, and I complain,
And chip, and gripe, and whine
But tomorrow I'll be here again
The same thing every time.

Einstein defines stupidity
Actions of repetition.
Again into infinity,
And this is my condition.

i bring my notebook
into the coffee shop
writing down my
thoughts for the day

sipping on a frappe
i let my pen lead the way
writing and writing
about anything and everything

sitting in a coffee shop
with various voices
alternative music
all around me

meeting new people
focusing on my thoughts
letting the coffee fill my veins

We Carry Depression,
Depression Carries us,

A Daily Battle is almost always Fought,
For some, almost always lost.

The trick, if there is one, almost always is,
To Keep battling minute to minute.

One moment you may walk through
A door, feeling lower than low.
But the next thing you know...

A sudden change so small you wouldn't notice, renders your woes mute.

All you have to do is hang in there,
Fight Minute to Minute.

Drinking a cup of Starbucks Helps Too.

You know, this journal does not even contain half of what we know.  I hope we never forget.  


(sonnet #MMMMMMDCLV)


Now, while cicadas drone 'neath blue skies' pale
Glance, or to deeper shades of that, what hence?
Remember Starbucks' "Friends Day" for intents,
The prompt last night, as yesterday's detail:
We rode the bike path 'gain whose wildflowrs hail
As wont in clover's pink, and yellows thence
With brown eyes, thistles' purple, grasses dense
On either side, while goldfinch laughed t'avail.
I'd hated these auld trails we knew, as poor
Since Mum's death, but now I belong to you,
Oh! all's sae sweet like ne'er before as twere.
My car'mel fru-fru drink was tasty too:
Cuz I am yours.  That means I can't write fer
All that cuz evry minute's yours who woo.

08Aug17

Life is not a garden of fragrant flowers,
Life is a chef's kitchen;
Some things get burnt,
Some are frozen,
In the end, it all tastes well.

Life is not a cycle ride down a smooth road,
Life is a bumpy journey uphill;
There are sharp, blind turns
Plus an upward *****,
But the view is magnificent.

Life is not a perfect picture captured by a DSLR,
Life is a photograph shot with a 1.3 megapixel camera;
With no editing allowed,
The sky looks blurred through it,
When actually it is clear.  

Life is not a cup of Starbucks coffee,
Life is a glass of Coke;
It is cold,
Addictive at times,
Mostly, fizzy and sparkling.

Life is not-
Seeing the glass half full.
Just appreciating as is;
*Simply, beautiful.

Working front register at Starbucks
you ask a little boy in green
if he likes Minecraft
What the coolest thing
he ever built was
then watch
As his family
and the whole line behind them
gasp, fall silent
stare at you
with standing ovation eyes
as he lights right up
to tell you all about it