Turn Left

You get in your car
Turn on the radio
Drive on the road
No horizon in sight

Wind in your hair
Sun in your eyes
Nowhere to go
No end in mind

When you reach a crossroad
Just turn left
Right is too easy
Too common a path
Just turn left
The road less travelled
The unbeaten track

When you reach a crossroad
Just turn left

You get on your bike
Put on your helmet
Drive on the road
There’s nowhere to hide

The wide open fields
The dust left behind
There’s nothing ahead
There’s no one at all

When you reach a crossroad
Just turn left
Right is too easy
Too common a path
Just turn left
The road less travelled
The unbeaten track

When you reach a crossroad
Just turn left

Listen to your heart
The compass of your soul
Follow the stars
Wherever they go

When you reach a crossroad
Just turn left
Right is too easy
Too common a path
Just turn left
The road less travelled
The unbeaten track

When you reach a crossroad
Just turn left
Just turn left
Just turn left
Turn left

Two Poems

Lies About Love

by

D. H. Lawrence

We are all liars, because
the truth of yesterday becomes a lie tomorrow,
whereas letters are fixed,
and we live by the letter of truth.
The love I feel for my friend, this year,
is different from the love I felt last year.
If it were not so, it would be a lie.
Yet we reiterate love! love! love!
as if it were a coin with a fixed value
instead of a flower that dies, and opens a different bud.

Harlem
by
Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?