How Long Is A Dream?

How long is a dream,
Stream of consciousness
Mirroring –unconsciousness,
And speed of thought
Reckoned
In seconds,
Pinned into entities
Clear as a bell.


The pain or the joy of
Of a day gone away,
How long is the theme
Crammed into a dream,
The bad and the good
Reflecting the childhood dance
Of experience,
Mire of desire explicit as film.

How long is a dream
Is the same as to ask about time
And the time that it’s taken
To organize, star in, produce and direct -
(You do/are all four)
Constructions so tricky and dotty and flighty
It might take one years
To write out all those fears, hopes and wishes
Compressed into minutes
From snippet to whole.

How long is a dream,
In its limits or boundlessness
Fluff as reality stuffed into seconds.
Puzzling, perplexing,
It keeps a man guessing,
The question as madd’ning
As how long is string?

How Long Is A Dream? 1.25.2017
Circling Round Reality; Nature Of & In Reality;
Arlene Corwin

I have rotted on the vine
No one plucked me before I died
Now I'm just fermented fruit
I am feeling mighty minut
I guess it is now my time
Just feed me to the ***** swine
They will slurp me like expensive wine
I'll make them feel mighty fine
At lest then my flesh well have served a purpose
My carcass won't have been totally worthless

©Pauline Russell

By Arcassin Burnham

Everything stays the way it should in days
where we belong in beauty on the television
that could make the brain upset from all the
controversies that flood the earth with wickedness
and lies to make people like me resent the world
bury me
learn from me
until the death of me
Ya see the people want to believe that we could be
as free as we want to be in this economy while no
difference has been made
the evil ones think to block out the sun so we could
have all the shade
for their amusement,
bury me
learn from me
until we are truly free.

It's not for the faint
Or the weak at heart
I'm not pointing fingers
But you know who you are

It can serve you for breakfast
Sunny side up
Spit you out by mid-morning
Then have you for lunch

It will fill you with doubt
Make you laugh, make you cry
This crazy mix of emotions
This thing we call life

Runs the highest of fever
While giving cold chills
Makes you a believer
As it lies through its gills

It can take you out early
Or keep you out late
Invite you to go fishing
Then use you as bait

It's a turn of the cards
It's a roll of the dice
It's a flip of the coin
This thing we call life

I feel the bumps on my skin echo underneath my fingertips
I try to resist the urge to peel my face off
To pour blood onto the floor as I become who I believe
But at what cost?
To become an unknown version of myself seems beautiful at times, concerning at most
When I am sober, alone with my thoughts, I thank my skin for existing
With its bumps, bruises, unevenness, and lines
It was made for me
Stretched for my hips, stretched for my being, reminding me that I take up space.
And space is okay.
And it is all around us.
And it is infinite.

To think God hates you when you are sad.
To think you can forget Him when u are glad.
To think you can build a life on foundations with flickering quakes, tremors.
Tick the talk, walk the tock; a clock with no timer.
You forget about the ladder when u reach the top. No.!
To feel you are the island, to fill your mind with hot spot thoughts, Stop.!