The Long Way Home

Take the long way home.
Look around as you roam.
Don’t be afraid to believe
that love will set us all free.
Take the time to view places
you once knew. Watch as
grey skies turn blue. Listen
to sounds you once heard.
It takes too long for letters
to become words. Sit. Wait
as time drives us to our fate.
Take the long way home
and take time for yourself.
The long way always helps.

No Vacancy

As the day moves, I seem to lose
track of time. I seem to forget
where my thoughts went. Still,
I feel fulfilled even when milk
is spilled. Thoughts, memories,
and feelings take refuge inside
my wide eyes. All I have seen,
heard, and felt does not melt.
What remains stays in frame.
All that I am is made up of old
times and slant rhymes. Still,
there is no room to goof off.
Now, as I move on, there is
no love lost – no cross to bear.
No fear: no vacancy: no way
to tell when all will be well.
Life is full of ups and downs
and broken crowns. It’s time
for stars to align. Believe it
to be true; it starts with you.

The Discovery

For many years, people have been
searching for treasure somewhere
under the sea. Many have tried
to dive to the bottom and died
with gold shining in both eyes.
The treasure has made men mad
and has turned good men bad.
The treasure remains untouched.
No man or woman has found
this underwater town housing
treasure causing false pleasure.
Not until many years later,
when there was a sailor
who traveled as he pleased
and watched over the seas.
Now and again, he casted a pole
in hopes to catch enough food
to eat. One day, he casted a pole,
and he felt a tug. He pulled up
the line, and he knew he found
the lost treasure he only heard
about. Without making a sound,
the sailor traveled into the mist
with the treasure he just found.
The discovery was never known
as the sailor never made it home.

A Poet’s Dream

A Poet’s dream is to be heard
and not seen. A Poet’s dream
is to create, to wait, and to
discover one’s own fate.
A Poet’s dream manifests itself
in words, sounds, and mounds
of half-written ideas found
under the surface: underground.
A Poet dreams a dream brighter
than the sunlight and better than
a good night under the stars’
inviting sight. A Poet’s dream
is to change the world –
to rearrange things to release
one’s hidden pain. Just like
ghosts, Poets do not show them-
selves, but they do know them-
selves. A Poet’s dream
is to live a life that can manifest
itself before and during the night.

Suburban Legend

It’s a suburban legend.
Who knows what the
housewife did? Life
must be wild in
the suburbs – away
from others. I heard
the suburbs are
different from the city.
Legend has it, the suburbs
have no legends at all.
Life seems cool and calm
on the outside. Outside
of the city, there are not
legends. There are only
truths – no imagination.
In the suburbs, I heard
no one leaves, but that
is just an urban legend.
Life is life and suburbs
are suburbs. It’s absurd
there are not suburban
legends that I’ve heard.