Delayed escapades, poem (356/365)

He promised to runaway
When the money
Got good
When the obligations
Had stopped
And the fear
Had left
He promised
Just like he had before
Dead set
On making good
He promised
To arise
When the moons
Aligned
And the river
Held its tide
And the sand
Stayed put
Never realizing
That no one ever
has it
That good
Maybe he couldn’t
Runaway
But he definitely
Could increase
His chances
If he did more
Then just stay put
One step
Edging closer
Distance
Getting shorter
Grasping goals
Without proper
Order

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The Self Help Books Living with me, poem (114/365)

Self books
Have made a home
On my table
They’re staring at me
And while they sound different
They all say the same thing
Live life
Don’t hide
Go for it
I eat my cereal
on the corner of the table
They have invaded
They stare at me
Pouting for me
To move
Pleading I live life
I kiss them all goodbye
And promise to
Make them proud
And the stacks of self help
On the coffee table
Look like sky scrapers
As I look back from
The door way
This is the last look
I promise
Till I have made
Some head way

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