The Dream
I
Wandering clouds, whispering trees
Bending, swaying, rocking.
Transforming the present to the past,
The gusts stimulate thought,
Carries the bobbing weaving grass
Like thought burst through the mind.
Nature whistles the weathering lies,
Spits and curses the sun.
Transpiring health is of the mind.
Illness soul craves desire,
Fire flies in front of the moon.
Tainted rose like love bleeds a soul
Drips on the sidewalk slither to the street,
Running downhill, whistle slamming face,
Fighting open, craves nature.
Hypocrisy is the mosquito spawn from
Ignorant marshes;
Buzzing as humming blue-white lightning,
Striking ground through tree and pole,
Exploding earth like children’s’ sand
Clouding the air hot and dry,
Juggling mud with craven hands,
Dried, parched fingernails sift clots of grass.
Silent grey permeates the silver air.
Muffled scream strikes in fluttering black feather.
Echoes vanish and stillness roars,
Unbearable squeal like scratched tooth
Delivered soul in puddled life
With squawking surly storks.
A single foot drowned in the rippled pond,
Clenched all too tightly around silver chain.
Charms, lockets, stories and dreams
Memories buried in the silt.
Worshipped by none who behold their presence,
Glinting light not shone like the white of an eye
Always pressed tightly closed
In fear of darkness.
Where are the eyes in my soul?
If they shut, what is my darkened heart?
To only see the emptiness is to gaze
Into the past where memories fly light
Dreams in clouds tainted
Bottom-Nightmare dark.
But within the past is sunlit future,
Poking through the dreams
Carrying back-raising and mind-tingled success.
The portal closes
To present-future dreams
Trapped in the past,
Vagabonds strip prized memories,
Toss sand identity to hinting, humbling wind.