Sometimes we seek another way,
A fresh road we can walk,
A different self to be for once,
A new voice that could talk.
Sometimes we face another dawn,
A shade of nothing new,
A different day in nought but name,
A nightmare ever true.
Sometimes we glimpse another
A chance that never came,
A different self that could have been,
A life not spent the same.
Sometimes we crave another day,
A tick of time to spare,
A different moment from the rest,
A secret not to share.
Sometimes we catch another eye,
A star that might have shone,
A different self reflected there,
A fantasy long gone.
Sometimes we cast another
A wish for days ahead,
A different outcome at the end,
A paradise instead.
Sometimes we grasp another
A flame to light the dark,
A different self to live inside,
A flint to light our spark.
Sometimes we find another
A grin for what we hold,
A different outlook on our lot,
A peace as we grow old.
The skyline recited a poem
as through the life of the city
a rhythm of traffic sounds exhaled
a freedom of innocence
free of crime –
for just that moment.
and allowed the echoes
of poverty to become silent within the distance
where shouts of peace were heard.
There were no words, just the silhouettes
of Chicagoans expressing
the metaphors of language
through alliterated streets where strangers
became the voices of familiarity
inside one vision of hope
and different faces
smiled as one society free of fear
and able to cope… together
within the urban challenges
of the city’s microscope.
The night was simply poetry
and I was just a witness
staring down from the highest level the Sears Tower
(on top of the world)…
for just that moment
recognizing what the verses of unity
dream to be.
Tarringo T. Basile-Vaughan
The Black Lagoon Tour
The body in the pool floats into the blue light
It's the natural assumption it's lost its fight
With the creature from the black lagoon
But know it's in the water as a teacher
That not everything we see is as supposed
What lies beneath the blue lagoon
Is really an imitation shone in the spotlight
Placed in the grotto to create a sensation
Drawing a crowd to see the monster
And dare to dream to conquer the beast
Goosebumps will pimple , shivers ripple upon seeing
In the swimming pool the figures of man and beast
Luring, frightening, visions scaring each in turn
Nightmares that will enter their nighttime dreams
Paranormal memories unearthed in a portal of fright
Mortals are so susceptible to an allure of beyond
The spiel of the docent’s con, “Let us be silent
that we may hear the whispers of the gods”
What message, the omen of the Gods you must fear
As they snare each into the magic of delusion