From what I've experienced,
That "The Road to Hell is paved with Good Intentions."
It is also equally true that,
If one sets one's sights directly towards Hell as a Destination,
One is likely to experience many Epiphanies
Along the way.

get laid
get stoned
get smashed
get a headache
get a venereal disease
but did you get
Anything about this life yet?

This poem was composed at Denver's Chada Thai Restaurant
shyguypoetry Sep 9

Isn't it funny
There's a me and I in time
Yet it can't be owned

shyguypoetry Sep 8

It's hard to soar

When you learned how to fly from

The stones on the ground

YH Sep 3

The world is cruel;
ugly, pitiful.
It is turned so by man of nature.

Though, the world is the entire universe,
and the entire universe is more than those things.
If you think it that way,
there is just so much more for us to fathom.

After all,
we have not yet spent our whole life-time to see what the cosmos are here to show us.

— Y.H.

gentle fervor.

Gently placate your enmity,
learn to be patient,
for the storm in your mind may only fog your vision.

(c) Y. H.
shyguypoetry Sep 1

With an open palm
The boy reaches down to grab
His own damn bootstraps

shyguypoetry Aug 29

Paying it forward
Heroes don't always wear capes
Thank you, uncle John

semblance of a valley forest on fire
Cascading black ethereal smoke in shapes of bouqued flowers, impurities purged in the crucible that is my rampaging thought.

baked browned clay surrounding the fluid paths to the ocean or is it to see?
Its peaks and crevasses the features one can see but the bellows and songs of these dancing mountains and volcano are what one remembers.

Rumbling moats, you can't see the fire but there is smoke. Ebony trees which sway ever so slightly in the breeze both a crown, a symbol of majesty, and masculine pedigree.
A portrait that can only be drawn by gaia when I look on to this visage all Ndibona ikhaya.

Ndibona ikhaya means "I see (is)home"
Playing with imagery
Don Bouchard Aug 23

Classes start today; summer's met its end,
The books lie waiting once again upon the shelf
To share the lie that education is the path for everyone
To happiness and wealth.

Those who will and those who won't succeed
File in and settle down, day one,
Segregated, aggregated in their rows of need,
Stamped by labels and by scores.

The gauntlet lies before them:
Papers, deadlines, speeches, tests
To find the laurel winners.
And to weed the needy rest.

"Success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed,"
Old Emily once said, and she'd be right to say it once again
About the battlefields in every school I've been.

This fall I'm taking time to hear
My students' goals and dreams,
Their challenges and hopes,
To say "I see you with my eyes."
I hope to see their hopes arise.

The race is to the steady, Aesop said,
The plodders beat the plotters in their way,
If we who have the gate keys in our hands
Encourage strugglers to stay.

Thinking about the great aggregation taking place in every school, the separating of the winners and the losers, about educational justice.

Does not buy happiness,
It gives you a moment of euphoria,
But it does not fill the empty void in your heart.
It is the key to salvation,
Without wealth, you are nothing.

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