Short Entranceway Poems

My hands are sutured 
behind my head. 
I lie like a fallen yield sign 
on the side of the road. 
My path is yellow and humble. 

My hands separate.  Pull. 
And split open the back of my skull. 

Evolution takes place in the gaps 
of solitude being locked in a room, 
away from all influences. 
Natural and spiritual become one law. 
And I yield . . .  

Pried open with my crowbar 
hands, the grey matter separates -- 
creating an entranceway 
for new experiences....

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My dream home
lots of spaces
gated and golden tall pillars
two circled drive-ways, and a few trees
stair-cases both ways to enter up
some carpeted, chandeliers all around
a movie space, library and more
several bathrooms and bedrooms
private entranceway
My name appears on the golden sign
entertainment rooms and lots of designs
over-looking a private space
square footage very  large
guest homes and nice patios
a venue for weddings
the home of my own
will soon be known....

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