Unsleep The Night

Unsleep the night, 

DiSTuRb,

repress fallacious feasibility,

DiSTorT,

awake the dreamer to all probability,

Forsake the hours spent in cloud drifts, ghosted shadows

of the lives we meant to see,

all possibilities.

Day’s disambiguation

BrOKeN,

Remembered fantasies.

Trail the highways of insomnia,

where bridges solid

link illusion to reality,

Unsleep the night.

Curse or Cure

As one who buys into the curse of honest self-reflection,

I ponder ruse that briefs process, selective recollection,

Doughty effort, spirit voice, appraisals for collection,

Doubts regale, does truth prevail in analysed introspection.


And say what should the truth reveal in all the moments pensive,

Would aught be learned or changed withal or rejected, I dismissive

At risen thought and actions wrought, words that I have spoken,

Accepted, viewed, for change previewed, or merely selfish token.

A gesture only, naught confessed to mind and all that matters,

Hidden guilt, a comfort quilt, then tossed in pieces, scattered.

No perfection, no, not here, nor nearly, though aspired,

Appraisals made, some darker shades of earthbound, deep desires.

Very much a worldly way in living here below,

These thoughts that haunt, as spectres gaunt, a valve restrictive flow

To missives from my spirit born, my better half, by far,

Reflections thrust, my heart unjust, life and time to scar.

But still, I ponder, recollect, review and hope rebounds

That thinking ranges, plans the changes, till spirit voice resounds.

Art of the Possible

From the dreams inside, without, about, all over,

Sensibilities subserve to something else,

A notion of a happy ever after,

Token’d, broken lives replaced on shelves.

Voiceless dreams where nameless heroes muster,

Vanguards to the vetoed daylight hours,

Suppressing fatalistic flawed of futures,

Adjusting life in possible detours.

Probable imbalances all equations,

Unfeatured in the changes that we make,

Possibilities thrive in sleep and waking

When willing spirits dream and undertake.

Faith In One Feather

Once, feather requested

for token belief,

his faith so diminished by

Life’s common thief.

His symbol of grace,

renewed by the milk of

liquid enchantment, formed

creamy white silk,

wrapped now in thoughts

that all may be well,

imagined, held clearly till

cause-effect weaves its spell

of tropical bounty

toughened by strife,

sweetened by truth of

renewable life,

where possible visions

enact in the mind,

tacit compliance

till treasure he finds.

Dream Seeker

A few comments back and forth with Richardankerswrites about forgetfulness and who we are and I was mulling over how we change and if we even know ourselves any more. Just a few thoughts.

I don’t know

What you want me

To do,

Or be.

I can only be me.

Is that no longer

Enough?

Maybe

It never was,

Never known

Until now

When expectations

Thwart desire

And desire turns

To dreaming

In life’s

Possibilities.

Who am I?

A dream seeker.