Remind me of a time
I have always dreamt to be.
Of snowflakes
And hot chocolate, and
Giant balloons in the sky.
And wisdom I’ve learnt of
In dusty wooden books –
Backwards to frontwards
With marvelous hooks.
Lost in the park,
In the middle of a rainstorm,
In the middle of your heart,
With crackers and cheese,
And a bottle that’s real dark.
Remind me of a time
Tag: dream
The Creep (day 1226)
I am the creep
Lurching in your dreams
Lying around to wait
Out untimely interruptions.
I am the Patron Saint
Leaving smear marks on the wall.
Godly is mistaken
Underneath forgotten layers.
A Chance to Be Faculty and Chief (day 1119)
A valley, like my mind, may look empty on the inside – void of all that makes up matter. Void of all the mass that builds houses and factories and city roads and flower gardens and traffic jams.
For cannot this still matter? I am lost in a wasted land, and the fight challenges my patience along grated edges of wisdom.
Do you hear the sharp bells ringing? Is this the difference that is ringing, or has freedom finally called my name?
The sheath shall sadly fall apart, ragged from too much use like a cocktail napkin at a lipstick party. History shall not scream loudly here. This is not the bitter pages of a non-fiction picture book.
Here we have wrinkled tin garbage cans rolling lifelessly along unkempt lawns of former princes’, former glory holes that believed in a dream. A lifeless dream built on waste management systems and recycling plans.
So I cannot spoil my food anymore. My valley – running deep – is the chance to be faculty and chief. My valley is the early morning breath and the dying chances. My valley is the shortened season and the wilderness.
My valley is me, and I’ve begun to see.
Windswept (day 1108)
For I’ve become quite a drawl
As summer’s moon drags me
Through windswept memories
Drifting dangerously close
To my anchored points.
My shattered dreams
Left luminescent marks
Along my stoned chin;
Set deep within my jaw.
I climb on.
I set on.
I limber on
As unbent seamen
Stare headlong; fore
Unsuspecting winds.
Until my tan
Become so leather’d
That I should rise
And set together
With my windswept memories
Of the day’s bliss and breeze.
They Have Got Me (day 1013)
I have got angels.
They dance around naked with long blonde locks
And sing amongst each other banging a drum.
Whenever I stand up to join the chorus
They stop and they wonder and stare at me lost;
It’s not a ‘what the hell is he doing’ stare,
But a ‘caught in the crossfire of beauty’ look.
They tell me my voice is why they stay
Dancing around here, naked as they play.
I have no reason to not believe my angels
For when I am lonely, they are my commitment.
They are what brushes past my face after tears flow,
They are what flickers in my early morning eyes,
They are the cinnamon spicing my sauce,
They are what smooths my sleepy brow out.
My angels cannot do me wrong.
No matter what song perches about their supple lips,
Their fingers dance nimbly through the air.
When they dream of things I cannot yet see,
Their drum echoes through my heart
And I imagine that I can indeed see their spells,
– Woven upon me so tight –
And I hear even in daylight they’re not far away.
When I begin dancing, when I share their dream,
I know I have got angels, and they have got me.
Verbs and Dreams (day 1008)
Don’t confuse my verbs with my dreams
It’s a dangerous and wild scape to walk upon
With high hopes, hard work, long nights,
And milestones cajoled by the lot.
Refrain from imprinting your impression
With adjectives and monosyllabic rhetoric.
Stick to the purest of truths,
– The thick in this stock,
The essence of this admission –
And rumble on, like a night train.
Dispelled Legions (day 900)
Legions of piping bands
Tunics bedazzled with
Ten foot peacock feathers
Rubies hemmed with gold
Chin straps and rosy lips
While out of breath
Gasping for breath
Left right left
Left right left
To the tune of ancient mariners
Ramshackled by a recent gale
Lonely and bygone
But strapped with infinite hope
Discovering smiles
On passing children
Who stop and stare
Slack jawed and dreaming
Holding mother’s pant leg close
And the song chirps loudly
As all of us dream
Focused determination spreads
About each members mane
They walk the fine line
Between 7th and Fraser
15th and Vine
On past these streets
In a cold autumn breeze
Biting into saturated spectators
With empty bottles of hot chocolate
Rattling along with cold children
And dispelled souvenirs
Between the Hours (day 823)
I think I forgot my whispers
Ones that wrote of yonder Princes
Striking down foreign conquerors
Wooing fair maidens
And stringing hearts of a thousand courtly ladies
While helping down the fair damosel
Just returned from toxic waters of journeyed shores
I think I forgot to share my love
To shout aloud upon the clouds
About the sky I journeyed to
As the lofty journeyer goes
Where lost was I upon seeing the hawk
And starlings grow
But couldn’t I, in all my guise
Demand a prize forever young
I never knew
I never dreamed
I never sat about the stream
For there I was
Tranquility
Shallow waters
Lost thought
I think I forgot an ancient order
That chivalry demanded
And Providence triumphed
That lasted ’til the morrow gathered
Which never came for long was laughter
Long were hands that guided home
Between the hours of jubilee & rest
A Hand Shake (day 807)
I’ve been the leftover
The gimme-gimme gone
Got you by the balls in the halls
Leftover
Give it or not
Lost, blown in the end
A dream or a thought
Give it away, give it away, give it away
Now drop.
Let the groove hold your hands
Flow through the night
Through the eyes and the eyes of the eyes; high
See me, see the glow in these these
See the chance
Buckets fallin’ under heavy, heavy
Drops of pure bloods truth
I’m havin’ attacks
Straight to the heart
Like a shak-a-shak-a-shak
Bare chested at the moon, OWWWW
So it’s the way that we love
It’s the get it, get it
Get it all packed in the black Jones tall
Lost souls holding out
My bodies been around
Shuffled down long gray gray walls
Penitentiary
I’ve been the guilt, the reconcile
But I’ve learned you are the shift
The give it t’me, give it t’me
Give it t’me with leftovers
Drop. You’re here
[note: best read at 91BPM]
Sweet Battle (day 785)
I had a dream last night
I dreamed that my path
Was paved with gold
Overhanging branches
And lush bushes
Had been all trimmed back
My shins no longer scraped
Against the stinging nettle
My ankles no longer rubbed
Over zealous bushes
The twigs and decaying leaves
Had all be scraped away
Leaving me a path devoid
Of all natures beautiful wiles
Maybe it was a nightmare
Shocking me to become aware
Of our battle against
Sweet Mother Earth
