Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Icarus M Feb 2013
There's a tree over there
that waits for its dreamer.

I have survived many.
And lost much
but to tell all would encumber several human spans
because
I have lived and longed.
I have learned and yearned.
I have waited.
At the train station, where existence can only be fulfilled
via a spiritual connection.
Bounded by roots that twist and secure
Soon to be bonded with thoughts
Floating through the sky, riding the air waves, see-through till caught
in a spider's web, or something like it.
And imaginary gets real.
Take in the matter
Scrub the void with scrounged emotions and colors
Pour in materials of lint and string.
Mediums with no particular conductance,
but taught it tight
and strum till the vibrations reverberate
and bring your idea to life in my wings
Because you are my dreamer.
And I am your catcher.
Hung on a wooden peg,
in your study.
Waiting for the day you
pick me up
and all your dreams tumble out and
materialize
and you realize
**who you are.
Initial idea was to describe a surreal explanation of what a tree waits for in its life. Instead I ended up with this. Tips on improvement to this would be appreciated.
© copy right protected
Dennis Willis Feb 2019
I throw up
to you
tonight

skin

lost

looking for someone
to cover

and protect
keep warm

ai got u
covered

ai got u
contained


ai got u
inside

ahm skin
I have all of you
in me

think macrophage
think semi
conductance

I am conducting
what

I am conducting
what

breaks beats
ka

thump

the whale of time
slides against me
while I type

cells abraded drift along
I am there too

singing ahm always singing
aginst

this unlettered gut

this superior knowledge
that
knows
this aint
according to the rules
poetry

I reach for the rule book
it's stupefying
sense

reject
sanity

reject
order

refect
wearing your undershirt
inside out

they are not all here
just us gast
ones

just us
crast
ones

*****
in a couplet

hungry
in a rhyme

desperately
killing

in a ******
fever

until I wake up
sordid

out somehow
to a chaparral

and a tumble
to tomorrow
that *****

she haunts
today
like Thursday



Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis
Lisa Aug 2018
The brain burns 20% of your resting calories a day.
I think that's why I'm so skinny.
Back on my ******* 'cept
my ****'s always running
running running running.
The conductance rate for neurons is 90 ft/s,
that's roughly 60 mph.
I'm chasing every tangent and leaving every toll in my dust,
flying off ramps looser than the associations I'm pulling.
Pull out a map on 5% and ask you to repeat,
I'm degrading, dehydrating, can't focus, no locus.
Hop in a van to get to the next stop,
charming, alarming, floating, secured.

— The End —