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.
You don’t have to be literate
to read the room. You don’t
have to know how to sweep
to use a broom. You don’t
need feet to own shoes.
Rooms are like books on
a shelf. People are like words
on a page. Sometimes, it takes
awhile for some to open up.
Each person has their own
definition of life. Views
and perspectives differ.
Beauty is in the eye of
the beholder. Lessons
are learned and days
grow shorter as we get
older. You don’t need
a folder to read the room.
Open your eyes and look
around. Take it all in
as you read the room.
From womb to the tomb,
leave no room for regret.
Read the room and learn
how fires burn. Read
each person’s face. Learn
just how the world turns.
Whatever you decide to do,
know that it is better to
read the room than to
leave the room. Look.
We can all be open books.
Without fail, we blaze trails
that will help others with
their paths. Like those
before us, we’re born into
life without foresight.
Like many before us,
we try harder than
those who came before.
We trust the process. We
step through unopened
doors to progress.
Whether walking alone
or with someone else,
blaze trails that will
make it easier for
generations to come.
The work is never done.
It’s better to blaze trails
than to chase tails.
Look far and wide for
beaten paths. Follow
your heart, and if you
get lost, blaze a trail
like ships set sail.
If need be, try new ways
to navigate the maze.
Blaze on and reach
the top before life
stops and our vision
is gone. Without fail,
create your own trails.
My feelings flip-flop. They don’t stop.
My feelings hop right out of socks.
My feelings don’t care. They come
and go with very little to show.
Good, bad, happy, sad, mad, or glad,
my feelings flip-flop and flop-flip.
My feelings take me on more trips
than Ken Griffey Jr. had hits.
My feelings take form and assure
me that I am still a life-form.
My feelings are real; they can heal
and can hurt in the same storm.
Will my feelings flip or flop?
Will I slip and lose my grip?
Will I be able to carry and lift
this gift of life to the finish line?
My feelings will flip and flop,
and I will keep feeling them
until the light in my eyes dim.
He was observed: made from scratch.
He was seen scratching away
at the surface: the stubborn dirt.
He scratched long into the day.
He wanted to reach the hurt.
Not before long, the day was gone.
He found nothing here, so he
scratched there. He couldn’t see
as he scratched deep into the night.
The sun came up, and he looked
down and said: “I can make some-
thing from all the stuff I found.”
Tired and dirty, he walked home
with stuff that can never be shown.
He was happy to have dug below
the surface: a place only he knows.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 