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Justin Dec 2018
Dreamscape

Like I’m trapped in a dream
Nothing is as it may seem

Floating though this illusion some call life
Trying our best to avoid strife

Ignoring the chaos
Lurking beneath the surface

Mindlessly slipping out of reality
Deep, deep into insanity
Bansi Adroja Dec 2018
It's odd how much people change
old friends from childhood
feel like strangers
and you wonder
whatever happened to them

I have changed too
detached from myself in a way
it's almost uncomfortable
not feeling like me
like a dreamscape
it is almost somewhere safe
A Poem a Day: Disassociation 101
Hunter Green Oct 2018
Is there a difference between being anxious and being careful,
The fear of not taking caution, when all you’ve taken in the past is lost in sin.
My streams of encouragement aren’t running dry, but they seem to be damming up at my mind.
You can’t understand the weight these feathers have on my heart,
Your scales work in reality,
Mine float along in a dreamscape endless fantasy,
Pulled down at one end where I see all future of peace and perfection.
All I can see is the undefined, the forgotten in time, only mine.
Help me drown and wake up back here, I won’t get far up here, looking for my dreamt of dear, all I need is one good hear,
Listening to your whispers of truth.
Helena Jun 2018
The flat pasture was disturbed by a dip
A markèd groove in its dark, mossy surface
I tipped my head over the hole, inching gradually towards the centre
Smooth and immaculate
The water served as a perfect mirror; my face against the dusky sky
I squinted into its inky eyes, searching for familiarity
But curiosity got the better of me
And I fell.

The initial contact was the worst:
A shock of cold slapped my face and I saw nothing
But an ominous blur of dappled green light
The heavy water pushed me further – down, down –
To uncertain depths
Movement stung my skin, so I decided to freeze.

Unconsciously I drifted to the mouth again
And shot up
Spluttering and gasping; the air was damp and heavy
Pathetic and sopping, I crawled out and sat beside the edge
The sky had darkened a little
Though there were still enough streaks of blue for the pool to reflect back at me
Pure as before
I tried to emulate this static perfection
But drops and tears ran down my body in a restless stream
And I couldn’t control it.
I don’t considered this to be finished and would like to edit it further. I want it to flow nicely and I feel the phrasing is a little clunky in parts. All suggestions/comments for improvement welcome.
Indyloto May 2017
Siamo già
dentro i sogni
che non sappiamo vivere
Star BG May 2017
Creative enhanced blood cells move within
as I harvest kind words.
They enter the mind to explode
expanding, blooming,
tickling senses to write.

The moon is lit to enhance as
well the sun with its rays bright.
And when it rains moisture touches skin
to anoint cells with boost bringing forth words.

Words to enrich and inspire others
All in the day of a poet.
A poet, who flies in dreamscape fantasies.

StarBG © 2017
Star BG May 2017
If perhaps we meet
upon road of my dreamscape reality,
I will be the one with feather in hat,
and candle in heart.
The one who sings with birds,
and radiates sun.
The one who looks into your eyes
to smile at the beauty I see there.
The one who whispers a poetic love song,
as wind encircles day.
If perhaps we meet
on the rainbow highway of life,
I shall reach out hand
and smile widely,
Smile, giggle, laugh whole heartily,
as we move on the carousel of life,
inside love, peace,
and harmony.

StarBG © 2017
inspired by LADY RF
We strolled through converging pathways spilling with synchronized chaos, finding our own space amidst the rumpus of the crowds on a small hill overlooking an endearing muddle of humanity. The grass was wet with evening dew and we were colored with the aureate light of dusk, watching everything swim by with novel delight. The city erupted before us, vibrant, apathetic, and amoral and we swelled with its magnitude. Round and enchanted, we rolled down the hill and fell into the peculiar happenings encapsulated in the windows.
We stood before a man with no eyes and worms coming out of his fingertips in a room with no floor. He smiled at us, carious teeth bending into slight parabolas under the pressure of its sweetness. We excused ourselves quickly, escaping into a opaline kaleidoscope that had opened up before us. I could taste all the lives we tumbled past as a mix of bitter almonds and grapefruit with the occasional shock of decomposing fish heads.
We squeezed our bodies into the melody of a madrigal sung by a girl with four heads and sonorous hands to find ourselves in the rafters of an old cathedral. Below us contorted souls filed into wooden confessionals screaming sins of their fathers into the ear of a deaf priest who gave copacetic blessings in the form of an orange pill bottle. Distended and bruised, we fell from the ceiling into the baptismal font. Bioluminescent algal blooms effloresce above our heads and resplendent stingrays whisked by, casting soft, amorphous shadows across our cheeks. Lulled by the etherial tenderness of the liminal world, we fell asleep with your hand on my neck and my fingers tangled in your seaweed hair.
We awoke to the sound of falling peaches and splitting skin. I pulled a small fish out from behind your ear and inhaled the brine of your tongue before stepping into the open window beneath your pinkie finger. A man in a suit who was really a box jellyfish greeted me in the center of a opulent office building that had no purpose. I politely declined to shake his hand and instead lost myself in the map of the city unfurled beneath the wall of glass in front of me. I pulled a small seashell out of my pocket and threw it. Everything shattered.
I felt you next to me, falling through space and low-lying clouds to find ourselves in the present.
We are saturated colors of mustard, earthen green, and midnight blue sprawled on sloping grass without hesitation. Buoyant and expectant, we meander through song and chatter to find ourselves bright and shining on a warm green bench talking in improvised harmony. Our skin is a new composition of window light, yellow and breathing. A synthesis of memories pool and flush our cheeks with affection and we inhale the world. Flags pirouette and fall, a refracted constellation glimmers on glass, and you taste like honey and rich smoke. The moon is ebullient, so full and round that in a gasp I pluck it from the sky and place it in your shirt pocket. We’re effervescent, with giggling fingertips on a euphoric investigation into novelty of human sensation. Somnolent and gentle, we fall asleep with the memory of our water soaked bodies burgeoning under softened hands.
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