Don’t be a dead man walking.
No need to be a sitting duck.
Don’t be down on your luck.
No need to be feeling bad
when you miss all the things
you wish you could have back.
Don’t stare at your reflection
for too long. Change it up.
No need to replay the song.
Move on. Wake up and look
alive. Buy the ticket and enjoy
the ride. Know when to show
and when to hide. Look alive.
No need to slip into the night
when we can just take flight.
Some are built to destroy,
to employ their evil onto
others. The good balances
out the bad. The happy
balances out the sad,
yet some are still mad.
Some are built to destroy
what others have built.
Some help fix problems
that others love to create.
The love balances out
the hate. There is death,
decay, and destruction
surrounding us. At any
moment, we can become
a part of the rubble, even
if we weren’t looking for
for the trouble. Bruised,
battered, and broken, I
look to salvage all that
I can before I kick the can.
I look to those built to
destroy and shake my head.
All that can be said is
“Don’t ruin a chance for
others to make their bed.”
Haunted by voices, the only child sees
shadows pass by. When he closes
his eyes, he can still see the demons
haunting him. Noise fills the still air.
Haunted by those who won’t leave,
he stays up all night. One night,
the only child hears his name being called.
Afraid and awake, he walks toward
the voice calling his name. He gets
close enough to see a ballpoint pen
lodged between a blank journal.
The only child picks up the pen, filling
up the blank pages. He writes, “I’m not
real” over and over. The voices stop,
and the shadows disappear. The only
child closes the journal, then the curtains
are thrown open. The shining light
illuminates his transparent face.
The light shines right through.
Surrounded by life, the only child sees
his future then jumps into the past. It felt
so real for him. He almost forgot, he was
a lurking shadow, once alive and well.
The only child visits the blank journal
now and again to encounter memories
once made, remembered, and forgot.
You are the chosen one.
You are the burning sun
that lights up the sky.
You are the birds singing:
the sunflowers springing.
You are the love the world
desperately needs. You are,
by far, the most important
one to me and everyone
else. You know how to help
others that don’t know how
to help themselves. You are
beautiful like a naked smile.
You are sweet like honey
and crisp like new money.
You are the chosen one.
It was pretty easy to choose
you because you turn grey
skies blue. I knew to choose
you, and luckily for me,
you knew to choose me, too.
It’s better to remember
old memories than to
make new enemies.
Memories made play
a big role in creating
words worth saying.
In this life, we must
look back at the past
before realizing life
moves all too fast.
Nothing is forever
except the feelings
you left me. Memories
made are memories
saved. My brain
doesn’t mind taking
time to remember
what others don’t.
Memories made are
set in stone placed
outside this dome
I get to call home.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 