Education is currently being used as a weapon
to arm the educated to defend the system.
Question the system.

Go out there and equip yourself for the right belief.
Be a dreamer. The dream is beautiful.

The problem with dreams is that you don’t know
the dream has turned into a nightmare until you wake up.
Are you awake? Be awake.

The problem with being awake; we need to rest.
Lucidly dream. Be lucid.
The problem with being lucid; you’re lucid.

There was a dream not long ago. The dream was beautiful.
We liked the dream, the dream became ours and we slept.
Slowly we all grew tired.

Those that did not need to sleep,
those that did not like our dream,
we treated like children.

We know that we need to rest and we were tired. We left our children to starve.
We forced others to sleep and so, we forced our children to sleep.
Even in our sleep, we forced others to sleep.
And so the big dream grew.
It became nightmare.

We all dream. Be aware of others dreams. Be aware of others while we sleep.
Be aware of those that sleep while we awaken.
When you wake and see your siblings rest no longer.
That their dream, once ours, has turned to terror.
The problem with dreams…
We force our children to sleep.

Is this bad? Always question. Should we force them to wake?
Force can create. Force can destroy.

The problem with being awake, when we know our brothers and sisters
sweat in there nightmares; we have a choice.

That is not a choice to wake them or not. To hope for the best.
That the nightmare will end and the dream will return.

A dream that has travelled
through the terrors of our minds
will not return the same.

Would you like the red pill or the blue pill?
Is there good and bad? Force can create and destroy.
Be mindful of how you wake.

Be lucid of how you force others to wake.
Tea or coffee; a cigarette; some breakfast; some fear?
Use balance.
We are all unique.

I have a personal story. As I wrote this, typos occurred in the original edit.
The technology, ‘swipe’ was used.  I meant to spell unique and unite was spelt.
Personal became powerful and with turned to WE.
Is there a reason ‘i’ should always be capitalized?

‘i’ wish to be mindful of my readers. ‘i’ want to stay true to them.
We that can read are the readers. ‘i’ am the reader.
When I isn’t capitalized I began to feel more comfortable with using it,
if i gave it arms; ‘i’.
And when I typed to explain that,
I went to preferring if isn’t typing out ‘and then i and then ‘, to just type two of them;
ii.

We don’t want to be alone.
There’s no I in teamwork but
there is and I in kind.
I is complicated. Be you.

Find your voice. Have a voice and be aware.
Others have a voice.
What would happen if we all respected each other’s voice?
What would happen if we all had the same voice?

That was the beauty of the dream.
The dream is travelling through nightmare
and is slowly returning.
It has changed.
Unite our uniqueness’s.

Do you eat fast food? I love it. It is a dream… Do I eat it all the time, I hope not.
Ken Robinson is a good man to ask. Consider food for the mind.

There are beliefs out there. There’s a belief out there that our world is ******.
Forgive the language. Understand it.
I wanted to say, ‘that our world is doomed; eternally ****** to be destroyed’ and that scared me. ****. There will always be nightmares, disaster and destruction.

What is an ‘aster’? Curious.
When did we chose to destroy; each other?
Could we create; each other?

There’s a belief out there for that one too.
Are you awake, yet?

A fellow bear crossed my path
several times that day

Yellow neon struck the cowardice
and the coffee shop as the sand,
grey of cloud night began to fall.

There were two women
and one was exhaling mist
as she smiled and said,
‘you’re on the merry-go-round,
be careful not to fall off.’

Complex formed cracked cobble slabs
feet tip tap splashed,
floating on the water and the air.
Red eyed in the green smoke, sleepless,
growing resent with the man
obsessed with destruction of the dream.

Scattered bears tight between tall towers
closed together by the mortar
a noise from us will scare.
There are not many of us left now.

The last fish of the night briefly shared,
climbing mountain steps to wooden cave.
The laughter on the way, do not forget me!

When the snow season chill draws closer
and the people light the sun;
they wander alone, foraging and fishing.

For the bear to commune
is a difficult thing,
you must listen to them roar
if you ask them to sing!

The bears they are a quiet folk.
and it's best they use a pen.

Į am wounded,
Listen.

She has been hurt,
injured by this beautiful man.
Can you hear her?

Is anyone there?
I hear her voice
is like the music
and it is my medicine.
Listen.

I am frightened by the system of its mind.
He is dreaming of the terrors that are endless
and it's time to rise!

I have been scared by the noise, the child cried
and wasn't her voice just the right lullaby
and the song that revived your spirit that died?!

Around here
ambition sleeps like earth under snow,
decisions made opposed to how we feel.
They make the heart grow weak.

Sure,
artists have been raised here,
escaping like hitchhiking beggars,
on horse drawn carts in the dark of night.

They talk to the driver and let slip their dreams
where they’re kicked out alone into a field,
with a rusted lantern that’s long since had oil.

A lone house on the hill
has its light on
it’s warm and welcoming.

These are the restless plains
where the young are aimless
and the old resentful

Keep things in check.

Oh baby that never was,
I’m now just a stone,
that you’ll leave unturned

Under the heel of your sole,
on some casual stroll

that leads to your,
grandiose tale
of some romantic ordeal

and now don’t get me wrong,
this is not an appeal,

it is simply a seal
of how I feel
about you.

Green.
Rolling train tracks
swooping under bridges
darkness; light
Speeding traffic,
Green.*

Forbidden; that’s what it was.
Don’t go there. Stay away.
Bad news. You know better.

That’s what she was. Beautifully
unattainable, but for those who know-
it is never that simple.

In my pursuit to have her,
there was a fear of getting caught,
there was suspension

Do you understand?

Nights spent slowly moving closer on couches
in the most subtle ways one blanket between us.

Necessity. A lie.
Be aware
be conscience. A lie.

She was in my bed many times
and I fell into the traps.

Perfect drama dreams, my mind created.
We would last to the end in our idilic,
honest related-ness.

                    Which would continuously

continuously                           remind me

I couldn't survive my lies,
that is what it was
and needed to be.