What was I thinking?
I’m not even sure that
I know the answer to
that question. Did I ever
mention that, no matter,
the intention, thoughts
become suspended? Days
of my past mix together.
Former ideas whirl around
like a reverberating sound.
I couldn’t tell you what I was
thinking. All I know is what
I was feeling. Hindsight is 20/20.
Some days were bad even when
it was sunny. I look back before
walking through the next door.
Behind every mask
hides a hurting face.
People mask emotions
by concealing feelings.
People mask pain
every single day.
Everyone wants to
know who’s behind
the mask, but they
never ask what is
behind the mask.
So much more is
behind the mask.
Don’t be afraid
to show yourself.
It’s time to take
off the mask
and face the world.
Rid yourself of
the hurt and pain.
Let’s rock slow and steady.
Easy does it. Nice and slow.
There’s no rush when there
is nowhere to go. Slowly
moving into the unknown.
No need to speed. Let it be.
Slow and steady; I’m always
ready. Life can be heavy,
and when it rains, it pours.
I keep going steady. I move
with the current. Slowly,
I work my way towards
a new day. I keep going,
slow and steady – I think
to myself. I wonder if all
will be well. Who knows?
Really, only time will tell.
Take a look at the new me.
Don’t I look so different?
I couldn’t tell you where
the time went or how
commonsense was spent.
The current me is new,
and I live to be better –
more refined and defined.
The old me helped me see
what could be. The old me
didn’t care about we.
The new me believes
it takes a village to set
all free. Me – old, young,
fresh, or rotten – can’t
be forgotten. The old me
wanted what I now have.
It is time for the new me
to have the last laugh.
Hahaha – Blah Blah Blah.
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 