tattered memories
of flattery
splash against the backdrop
of pastel coated youthful visions
soft blended colors fade and blend
swirl and collide
embrace and recoil
forever interpreting
the dreams of my childhood –
faces take shape  
staring blankly into space
I shake my fist
and race to place
the case at the law bringers feet
bowing at the stone alter
sacrificing time
desperate and forlorn
I say, I say, I say,
boy,
feeling like foghorn leghorn –
cartoon falling down the hallway tunnel
funneling idealism
into tiny glass cups
roughly stumping speeches
at penniless preaches
beseeching those reaching
for free handouts and doubting
the ones touting freedom of thought….


sometimes I get caught up,
lose my train of conscious ideas
this is what that looks like –