The day seemed to start in an old fashioned way With arguments, laughter and children at play, The only thing different and wholly unplanned Was the man on the beach who drew dreams in the sand, He looked different some way, as though not of this time And his pen was a silver topped cane of life’s rhyme, That drew imaged cartouches and scrolls of the day Yet the incoming tides washed them slowly away.
From pink dawn to deep twilight he wandered the shore And he always found places that he could explore, Where the gold parchment sand was untouched by the sea Where his writings were safe and his soul would be free, He would write without nought but the words in his heart Until all of life’s daydreams had drifted apart, When the twilight was lost in the heart of night’s shade And his cane drew Amen’s to the prayers it had made.
The man walked through midnight, his cane dragged behind As he thought of what dreams in the morning he’d find, And he looked out to sea with the moon in his eyes While he thought of the many ways life laughs and cries, Then he savoured the dawn as it crept into view While he sorted his dreams from the false to the true, And he wiped off his cane as he strolled up the beach For his cane’s written night dreams were not out of reach…
When man mortal with a title Becomes vile and self righteous He walks around with the Bible Holy acts and all sacrilegious Carrying LBGQT rainbow banners Hailing the devil’s temporal empire Accomplished false pretenders Adorned in bright priestly attire Those
I slumber into a Magical Dreams A castle appears from five magical beans A kingdom up in the air I mount a flying horse That takes me their Giants are counting golden eggs Rocking themselves in musical chairs I own
A dream what is that exactly, a reason to live, love, laugh, follow your heart. His heart, her heart, your heart, my heart, their hearts even our own hearts, from that first newborn smack on our baby bottoms, to wail
Mystery within my seizure: Who are you? Who are you? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? I uttered these words during a seizure. Imagining you puts my mind under pressure. Searching for your identity is like a hunt
When the night was full of terrors, As a child what you had encountered in your sleep with the demons or devils, Or the beautifully adorned prince or princesses, The superheroes and the fantasies and yet some more- “Dreams” ,