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S E L
Poems
Nov 2013
dreamer
freedom is a funny thing
what would dreams bring
but calamity (and loss
tears superfluous waste of water)
slow treading in treacle
hold absent flora to the wind face
cross eyed glory on a pale mask
no extending big hand
to the child who doles out water
to babes from ***** papercups
scratching scoops of brown mess
amid domesticated fauna
in the middle of nowhere land
feet rubbing for warmth
an ever going stipple wagon
a small blanket the only cover
one scooter holds too many
open beauty closing too soon
supply demand coercing blank stare
impasse holds the keeper hostage
some up - some down
no break from unbroken cycle
the dreamer lives forever on
inside the tightest cage
and knows there's little cure
yet within full ironic view
lies the priceless key to unlock
dark eyes implore me to take you
anything is possible
yes
anything
dreamer, dreamer
open dreamer
open your dream wings
Written by
S E L
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