The Road Less Taken by Robert Frost
When I glanced down my future paths
I was frightened by what I saw
I was to either follow many before me
Down a road that promised success
Or risk finding a dead end
But even if I had to cut through tall grass
And thick trees
I would not be a follower
I would rather risk it all
I would rather lose it all
Than live wondering
What Brave Souls
suddenly twenty miles-per-hour
feels like Nascar speed
to me,
i'm racin the clock.
racing cars,
racing myself.
it's nice forgetting how to go fast.
it's nice to feel afraid of normal.
I fit words like a puzzle in my mind.
the Pen I hold is my tongue
the Page is my lips
and my Words are my soul.
from poems i dream
to the ink on my tongue
i feel like flying
or maybe gliding.
gliding is smooth,
comfortable.
but then
i'm not comfortable
i bear my soul to a Page and a Pen
and hope my sword-like words don't meet my own chest
i'm constantly tongue-tied
not because I don't have Words
rather i have too many
what beautiful souls sip coffee next to me
what Stories we have
and oh,
how they need to be told!
and as the fire becomes sparkling embers
another's flame reaches for my whithering wic and whispers,
"You're special."
what sweet souls find themselves again
what brave souls dare to think bigger than how our culture tries to define us.
For Chelsea
I exhale more than I can hold
I chase an oasis I haven’t seen
Out of pure faith do I know
That a place is being prepared for me
My soul was lost in your heartbeat
I curled up as your chest rose and fell
I found my place for eternity
In the stillness
My eyes wander
My lips distract
My ears forget Your voice
But my eyes can't forget what you look like
rise and fall
lose yourself
time is no object
rise early
fall late
the waters are clear
the sand is white
i hear the waves
like a kiss goodnight
they meet me where i am
alone and unsure
they find me in my refuge
covered by His sweet embrace
my head sways
and i'm reminded
you are where my home is
paradise isn't paradise
at least
not for very long
Our skin is thin
The air is thick
Go means stop
We stop a lot
Play means sit
We sit and throw fits
What happened
When did we lose our wonder
I wonder
if we will find it
We used to be curious
But now it kills the cat
Look at the screen
Forget the screams
Don’t think of what will be left
At the end of your life
Will you be more
Than a dirty hard drive