Never Returning

When you start going to the world,
never look back or go behind.
"Won't" does not do--"will" is the word,
the only right word you should find.
I also run without return.
I don't look back because I'm bold.
Anyway, what does mean the old Sun?
Well known old paths?
The door-sill that's old?
All these things you could cherish.
For these things your heart could run pettish.
But, i you ever do come back,
I have to say:
That's where you'll stay.
And just stay.

A boy runs to the world through his eye.
His head fights all those evening pleas.
He learns from a river how to fly
toward the oceans, toward the seas.
He learns from millions of sparkling stars
to reach the sky, to gleam and shine.
He learns from roads how to get scars
and boldly go forward to reach the divine.

It is dangerous like a snake,
it is dangerous like a shell
if my beginning is awake,
if it's always so good and well.
And I would like to run wild.
I hold my heart.
I shut my eye.
When I start going I won't look back
because I'm eager to try to fly.
I don't know where.
I don't know why.
I don't know what's hidden far behind.
I know that here--
as I cross a line,
they try to smear,
they try to bind
all that I find.

It is dangeroud like lightning,
it's dangerous like a shell
if my beginning is fighting,
if it's still so good and well.
That is why I run away.
That's why I run.
That's why I seek.
I make dawns out of the evening Sun.
Let the life learn how to flow
the very same way I have done.
I'm miraculous in a way--
when I start something I'm not slow;
when I start, I am eager and gay--
my impatience
and curiosity grow...
I don't know what will bring a new day
hidden in those fogs far away;
but, if I easily get the golden glow,
or if I have to go through the snow,
I'll always go onward and only forward.

I'll never, never, never go back.

King

If I were King, a butterfly,
walking on a rose,
would fly away and land upon,
a little girl's nose;
Then flap his wings and hop about,
so she could smell the rose.
If only I were King.

If I were King, every female,
would have servants at her call,
waiting on her hand and foot
to get ready for the ball.
If only I was just an ounce of a king.

If I were King, our dads and for-fathers,
would rest on their day off;
or maybe watch a ball game,
or play a round of golf.
If I could only be a King.


If I were King, the teachers,
would each day, be thrilled!
Teaching two dozen little empty heads,
just waiting to be filled.
If Chance were King.


If I were King, every child,
would have a companion of their own,
so they could sit together
and share some ice cream.

If Chance was King, if Chance was only King.

Run Away... Maybe

Hello, my name is Scotty and I will be managing Chances' blog; making sure all is up-to-date on Chance's auto posts and also responding to any e-mails you bunch have to ask. I personally do not have any form of contact with Chance nor did Chance leave me any but rest assure you, the readers, are Chances' number one priority.  Thank you all for taking the time to read some of the magnificent art that Chance continues to post. With that said, enjoy his latest poem "Run Away... Maybe"

Once again we are run down,
we are pushed down and hurt,
they try to help but all they do is make things worse.
People, they ruin our lives while trying to help,
lets run away maybe then we will be able to love who we want without being judged.
 They made us do something unexpected,
all because of stupid things that happen,
it's not our fault that people change their minds,
it's not right when they ruin our life,
if only they could understand that we don't need them,
lets run away maybe then we will be able to do what we want.
They hurt us too many times,
they made us hurt our loved ones, our family too many times,
they won't let us be who we want because of their life,
they have to go and ruin our live and make us hurt someone,
so lets run away maybe then we can be who we want..maybe.

Death; The Form Of Love!

A pretty girl meets a handsome man,
Once upon a Saturday night.
He takes her home and he kisses her,
And they make love with all their might.

Passion runs wild through the midnight hour,
And they're making love galore.
But in the heat of this moment,
Death comes knocking on the door.

Cause death comes in the form of love,
And it's as black as the ace of spades,
And we should all be leery of,
A virus that leads to Aids.

A pretty girl in a motel room,
She's with a very handsome man.
He gives the girl a warm embrace,
And a look that she understands,

All she sees is the handsome face,
Of this strange paramour.
And she's too naive to ever believe,
That death is knocking on the door.

Cause death comes in the form of love,
And it's as black as the ace of spades.
And we should all be leery of,
A virus that leads to Aids.

A pretty girl in a waiting room,
And she's as sick as she can be.
Because a doctor has just told her,
That she now has H.I.V.

A pretty girl on her death bed,
Just waiting on The Lord above.
And before she dies she reminds all,
That death comes in the form of love.