The Boogeyman

Once a night, the Boogeyman visits 
kids who stay up, kids who are bad, 
and kids who don’t believe. Under 
the bed and inside your head,  
the Boogeyman creeps around. 
The Boogeyman lurks without 
a sound. He hangs around. He 
waits for the perfect moment 
to become visible. He attacks 
in the dead of the night when 
the parents cut off the light. 
During the day, the Boogeyman 
takes the shape of a politician, 
a teacher, a secretary, a mom, 
a dad, a pastor, a police officer, 
or a homeless man under 
the bridge. The Boogeyman 
returns to his true form after 
he conforms. Beware of his 
gaze. Don’t make eye contact 
as it serves as an unwritten 
contract. Have no fear. Don’t 
be scared. All you need to be 
is aware. Sleep tight tonight. 
If something doesn’t feel right, 
get up and turn on the light. 

The Key

There are gatekeepers
that hold the key
to the kingdom –
the key to success.
They hold the key.
There are street sweepers
that hold guns and cuffs.
They hold the key.
There is a grim reaper
among the living.
He holds the key
to the afterlife.
With him, it’s on sight.
There are timekeepers
watching from the other
side. There are spirits
that know when to hide.
They hold the key
to the somber skies.
There are old leaders
driving imported cars.
They hold the key.
There are people
like you and me.
We, too, hold the key
that will, one day,
set our souls free.

Carried Away

Today, I got carried away.
Instead of work, I play.
Sometimes I forget to live
without stress. The older
I get, the shorter the days.
Today, I got carried away
from what I was doing.
Half the time, I don’t know
which direction to go.
The other half of the time,
I don’t know if I should
go outside or stay in
and hide. These long legs
carry me away. One point
to the next. Feeling blessed
in my chest, I hold my head
high. I look to the sky. I see
wings carry birds away.
I feel the wind chill my skin.
I can count on my days
getting carried away.
My mind might stray, yet
my body will stay. Blue
skies littered with birds
help me find the words
needed to carry me away.
I look ahead and know that
one day, blues fade to black.

The Haunting

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.

Tough Skin

Callaced and rough, tough
skin cuts when touched.
Tough skin worn by men.
Holding axes, shovels, and
tools makes you tough.
Sometimes, it is enough.
Other times, the man hides
behind his tough skin.
It is not manly to be soft.
Have you heard this before?
Women can’t be tough.
It is not womanly to chop
down a tree. Women must
plant seeds. Who says I can’t
be soft? I am tired of being
tough. I think men should be
sensitive, too. All men’s tears
should water the seeds, while
women tear weeds. We must
break free from norms and
set forms that used to be.
We can be tough, rough, soft,
or hard. We can live together
with our skin and talk about
the places we have been.