From the blooming dandelions
That grow in the gardens of the kindred soul
Is a peculiar dream
That with every yellow petal becomes
A wishful fly away
Within its colourless softness
Searching for new soil
To bury itself
And grow

But it’s the insignificant things
That weigh down the petals  
Whenever they gather the willpower
To float towards a horizon
That divides the insecurities
And the biggest fears of the dreamer
So instead the petals become rain
That wash away the remnants
Of a scorching sun

And some time after
The water carries with it
The seed of the dandelion
And along a distant road
It grows once again
Waiting for another
To come set it free
So that it can carry those old ambitions
Back to one who’s still searching for courage
Along the horizon in their dreams

From the blooming dandelions
That grow in the gardens of the kindred soul
Is a peculiar dream
That with every yellow petal becomes
A wishful fly away
Within its colourless softness
Searching for new soil
To bury itself
And grow

But it’s the insignificant things
That weigh down the petals  
Whenever they gather the willpower
To float towards a horizon
That divides the insecurities
And the biggest fears
Of the one who wished upon them
So instead the petals become rain
That wash away the remnants
Of a scorching sun

And some time after
The water carries with it
The seed of the dandelion
And along a distant road
It grows once again
Waiting for another
To come set it free
So that it can carry those old ambitions
Back to one who’s still searching for  courage
Along the horizon in their dreams

Forty thousand dreams that have come to sudden unexpected end.
Yet millions more tainted by fears with which they must contend.
Who will dream those dreams now that they have gone their way?
Can we hope to dream as we did before when tomorrows pass away?
For now my dream is simple and my hopes and motives true.
When nightmares are over, there are better dreams for me and you.
But if by fickle fates hand my dreams should perish too...
I will hold until my last breath that good dreams return to you.

My heart beats in a frenzy,
Uncontrolled and clinging to
fleeting pride,
I wish upon a star,
to give me confidence,
to give me assuredness,
for I feel it has never been
felt before~ Truly, in a way
my pride is not corrupted
by narcissism.

Because deeply,
As my lungs soak in
air and my head spins
irrationally,
I feel how sanity
seeps out of me.

I am left with
a pit of empty
aspirations.

Fancies calcify in waiting,
under floodlights, Seconds crawl,
while the ancient belfry crumbles,
crack a cold one, watch the fall.

A Jiffy and a Nothing-flat
argue ‘round their fell remains.
Jiffy visions stories flying, high-
rises surging from the flames.

A motley crew of Moments,
fitted blind to rhapsodize,
scaffold fickle aspirations.
“Venture higher!” Jiffy cries.

Cresting ‘bove the clouds
ol’ Jiffy pipes a story more
‘til that whisk of wiser wheezing,
downs the tower, floor-by-floor

Collapsing ‘to a shower,
Moments dance in reckless spiral,
share the balmy hands of vision,
kiss the lips of sweet denial.

Delusions topple in a breath
under floodlights, Seconds crawl,
while the idle spire shatters.
Crack a cold one. Watch the fall.

I am so very broke, I can’t afford to pay it thought.
Fettered in a cage by poverty, left only to pray and rot.
The feathers of my soul have been tarred and stained by life.
So much so, I'm not sure if they'll ever again shine bright.
This Bird in my heart used to sing for my hopes and dreams;
Mourning every tragedy with requiems that gleamed.
A little Canary to be all mine until the very end of time,
Staving off this cold world and reminding me I'm fine.

This poverty starved her slow and deep, down to the very core.
Melodies that once remedied despair gone forevermore.
Nowadays, all I can ever do is reminisce about that yellow bird;
How she'd bring warmth to my life's cold hell of a blur.
The way our voices would harmonize on little notes;
Prophecies of a better future foretold from our nook.
That's why I still cling to the distant sound of their words,
Because they ramble on in me until nothing seems absurd.
I like to think she still sings sometimes, though no sound is heard.
That music of hope rings in my mind still, all thanks to Bird.

Limitations of a human are still neglected,
Claiming that everything is possible.
Someone said,
Impossible is I'm possible.
If so, why not jump off a thousand metre cliff.

The saying is a virus,
Inciting young minds to dream the unachievable.
After all as goes by the saying,
Hard work is rewarding,
But then failures strike,
Dismay creeps in.
It is easy to blame not accepting that they are to be blamed.

Keep trying is another lie,
Since there is no time.
Life is short, dreams are more.
Life won't always give the best.

But there are men who have achieved much,
Not driven by ideal pursuits.
Respecting self is rare trait.