"daydreamed" poems
*When I was small
I walked on fairy dust and
my dreams were as tall
as skyscrapers towering
above the universe
inside of me, was the galaxy.
I was born of the cosmos,
full of light and love
passionate in my quest to
give this to others.
But as I grew my star began to fade,
stars need love and light to survive
and deprived of both my blazing fire
transformed into weak candlelight.
At school I had learnt it was easier
to hide your light
than to stand out as different
and be extinguished in an instant.
So I kept myself to myself
at the back of the class,
knowing the answers but not
shouting them out.
I daydreamed, and doodled
stars on the corners
of my books, all the while
I could hear the universe
calling out to me to trust,
that we are all born of this
cosmic stardust.*
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 7:55 AM UTC
I knew a kid in highschool
Rather to say I knew him would be an overstatement,
He was a friend of a friend at most,
The boy that sat directly in front of me in my economics class
Second seat from the right, second to last from the back
The corner of the classroom between the whiteboard wall and the windows
I remember that scene like a diagram,
I couldn’t tell you anything I learned from the class but,
I knew a kid in highschool
He was best friends with my childhood best friend
He wasn’t quiet, wasn’t loud- he was a normal highschool boy
I remember the last words I said to him
Well not quite, I remember the vague idea
Something along the lines of it only gets worse
He was talking about the theoretic project where we role played
Each kid acting out as if they were in the real world
He said he was overwhelmed by the amount of work
I told him it only gets worse
I knew a kid in highschool
He killed himself during the weekend
The Monday they announced in I was sick
I was sick
His obituary isn’t up on the internet anymore
Neither is his facebook, he is nothing but a yearbook page
The page to a book I couldn’t afford
He is a memory on bookshelves filled with dust
I knew a kid in highschool but I had to ask a friend to confirm his existence
That I didn’t just make up a daydreamed suicide
I’m so tired of wondering what’s left of us when we die
I spend most of my life running from evidence of my existence
No photos, no yearbooks, nothing with me or my name
I knew a kid in highschool
Jul 2, 2019
Jul 2, 2019 at 4:28 AM UTC
*I've daydreamed of my burial day,
I've thought about,
who I want to come,
If anyone would come,*
**and you understand,
if you've been on death's end before,**
**but if what's more important,
or adequate,**
is the music performed,
then we get our ends,
and as the soulless bodies glance down,
as I'm buried in,
there will be a concert,
**I'll hear,
six feet underground.**
*I will,
Just
hear,
Sound.*
R.I.P.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 8:56 PM UTC
discovered on my search today
how murakami and itoi
wrote short stories together
in nineteeneightysomething
and daydreamed of the corners
in tokyo i might never see
again all while amazed and longing
for someplace nifty to myself
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 8:09 PM UTC
Arthur McKnight was a powerful man and New York was his playground. Not that he ventured out anymore at night now that he had met Evangeline. The long days of mind-numbing numbers he crunched managing Wall Street hedge funds had taken their toll on him over the years, but becoming intimate with Evangeline had saved him, had changed him in ways so fundamental that for him she was all that mattered.
Arthur no longer noticed these subtle differences. He daydreamed by the dim LCD light of stock tickers, craving the touch that only his woman could bestow upon him. He had surrendered completely to her bliss.
These days when he woke to her already gone from his Upper West Side apartment all that was left of her presence was a lipstick kiss on the mirror and a bottle of Sally Hansen Tangerine Orange nailpolish. The quiet was deafening, but that bottle of Sally Hansen left on the bathroom counter held the promise of Evangeline's return.
It was just after 7 p.m. when Arthur made it home and he could already sense her. She was coming. He strode with purpose to his master suite, spying the black thigh-highs and silky red dress he had laid out for her arrival. The waiting was unbearable, and Arthur finally broke, needing Evangeline so badly he could smell her perfume, could taste her in his throat. It was time; no more waiting.
"You look lovely tonight, Evangeline," Arthur croaked aloud as he pulled the first of the thigh highs onto his shaven legs...
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
I daydreamed my way to the sea
and made a sandcastle my home.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 3:57 PM UTC
Today I walked to the park and back
And saw suburbia rearranged into dizzying distortions
All the trees had a purplish tint
And on the grass, I saw multicoloured light reflecting off the dew
When I got home
I attacked all the imagery with a dagger to reshape reality
And a blank mirror to recreate the world in my head.
The world that was quiet is humming again
I hear choirs of crickets and choral basslines
Cacophonous and ecstatic in the constant confusion
The dull concrete is shot open with marquee moonlight
Indulgence pouring out, free-flowing like communion
And painted onto canvases like rain on a car window
Daydreams and delusions are ice cream melting, sticky and sap-like on your chin
Clouds pixelate with diamond edges
Voices ring out in a flurry
And there isn't a soul in sight.
So I breathe in the air
And let all the sounds and smells and limitations of reality colour my imagination once again
Daydreamed delusions and nightmarish reality are one
Filaments in the vibrant violence
Until the summer fades away again.
Aug 18, 2023
Aug 18, 2023 at 7:25 AM UTC
I could drown myself in cups of coffee, in nicotine, old books, and whiskey.
But that won't make me crave you any less.
I could immerse myself in the deepest of enthralling literature, poems, a sea of colloquy,
Waves, strangling the current of my mind.
But you'd still be the resonant word.
I could listen to the sweetest of voices on repeat, golden like honey, sticky,
But my ears would only ever truly answer to yours.
Serpents tend to bite their own tails, a mythological and alchemic symbol of the cyclic nature of the universe: creation out of destruction.
But I'm not breaking my heart, loving you.
Swollen, yearning, daydreamed astray, gathered fast by night.
Curiosity deniable no more, innocence lost, hands wandered exploratory below.
Clambering desperate over themselves, those hands fell over folds of warmed flesh, over forgotten nooks and unfound crevasses, over trembling thighs and aching calves.
Astounded by the vast array of fresh delicacies, of unencountered sensations and deepest pleasures, she stood by loyal as those hands swiftly accustomed themselves to pursuing true ecstasy.
What divine rapture. What soaring heights of pleasure to ascend to. And what a delicious revelation to encounter such unimaginable ecstasy.
That twelfth year become a fourteenth, a fifteenth, a sixteenth.
And with the passing of each came a series of ever more adventurous trysts, the sorts of which Cousteau, Armstrong, and even Columbus could all be truly proud of.
Depths sounded, crevasses plundered, self’s nectars tasted and devoured, the pleasures of the flesh went unearthed.
Elaborate constructions lovingly shaped, waxed and honed, years of heady experimentation, trial and errors, fantasy and dreaming, all in the pursuit of even harder, better, faster, stronger ******* Perhaps it was that, or was it more a case of welcomed companionship? Ambidextrous frustration? A carnal appetite, most terrifying in its magnitude?
Isn’t it time then, you tried a little tenderness?
Be good to you.
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 3:20 PM UTC
After a neat little bite
She slid his sandwich into its baggie
And smiled,
Never tiring of her little joke.
“See, it’s alright. Im here with you, having a little fun!”
After the bell he peered into the bag.
And there it was
And a note:
“I love you, Aaron. “
This morning’s mixture of boredom and fear punctuated by her love
Then he daydreamed of helping with the clothespins,
Sheets snapping in the wind
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 12:51 PM UTC
Afraid
I see the fear , hear it in her voice
She need not say but I know , she'd rather keep the norm than chase the moon.
Ride a bicycle with her past and leave the future left to uncertainty.
A shining love destined for shadows.
Unwilling to let go,and trust the roads paved for our affection.
A behind the smile lay a lifetime of wishes shared , fantasies daydreamed , and even memories made.
To much to lose , and everything to gain.
Stick with the safety of what she knows , rather than take a chance on what she doesn't.
True love only passes once in a lifetime , and she's willing to let it pass for a piece of her past.
She hides the ring , but doesn't bury it , she hides the love but won't pursue it.
Under the cloak if darkness I find her waiting , I want her to take my hand , step into tomorrow together , but shell never truly say goodbye to then , she wants the now , but she's afraid of tomorrow,
A tomorrow that my never be , because she's afraid
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
The sky always kept its word
She had seen Jupiter's approach,
Her nights lay heavy across the sky
She giggled, she daydreamed
She was odd.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 12:52 PM UTC
Ha! and I had hopes
for a better ending.
Placing my hand on the window pane, I felt it knocking
outside, as the rain ****** buckets and washed my car.
Every few seconds, the sky was talking,
but I would never let it in.
I stepped down into a dour acceptance
and bought a moderately-priced raincoat.
The spitting sky would never cease
And I began to imagine which items I owned could float.
I wished I chose swimming lessons over piano,
but at least because of it I had one.
I figured it might become a useful raft
if indeed no one ever again sees the sun.
How much water can fit under the sky? I wondered,
and at what depth will my body finally rest?
I realized I hadn't the time to consider intangibles
or to issue to God any vague, indirect requests.
I pressed my forehead against the glass, just stop!
There was a moat between houses now,
with pets and telephone poles and trees as islands.
The chill of cataclysm began to freeze my brow.
Later on my roof wearing my raincoat I daydreamed
about the things I loved underneath the silvery-grey.
I waved to my neighbor and he sadly waved back,
and I held up my glass of wine and watched the world wash away.
May 26, 2010
May 26, 2010 at 5:29 PM UTC
they say opposites attract,
but then,
how are we in contact?
we met in the same hiding place, with walls up to our embrace.
same empty wells on our faces
same invisible threads on our lips
slouched posture
boney hips.
i was a blank canvas of a girl and you were a boy who liked to spill your ink on ****** white pages.
i was painfully boring and you were the ruins after a hurricane.
you had stars for eyes and flames that licked your lips like you were the only wildfire out there and i was nothing but a crack on a sidewalk.
you had every natural disaster dancing on your fingertips and i was dying for you to touch me.
but your palms only sweat when you daydreamed about kissing me and i was infatuated with your dreamy eyes
you kept galaxies in your palms just to give me a sense of home every time we held hands.
silly boy hasnt anybody told you death doesnt have a home.
hand in hand we are filthy image to them they try to **** us
but you spill anything about us to anyone that would read
according to you there wasn't any us, ink all over paper yet never any love
they asked you if you ever loved someone you said you never really cared
seems like i was the air you breathed in but coughed out as dust instead.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
I can see you
We can see you
Setting suns do distract delinquent dealings
But we see you
I see you
And if your lucky
Someone will remember you
Someone will remember the sins you committed
They will provide color to your story
And if your lucky
Someone will remember your failures
They will ad rigidity to your pages
But I see you
I know you
I know you've cried
I know you will cry
I know you are crying
And if you are lucky
Someone will save these tears
They will make the ink of your story
We see you
And if you are truly lucky
No one will listen to a single cognitive thought you have
And you will never be blamed for something
Asked to explain yourself
Thought of for advise that was followed and regretted
Daydreamed about
I see you
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
She was daydreaming again,
and that was the most dangerous
thing she could do, but she
couldn’t help but be happy for
a minute or a two, she was desperate,
desperate to leave this so called
life of hers.
She daydreamed about the
noise in her house full of her
parents laughter instead of
angry voices, or silence because they
had nothing to say instead of
silence with tension.
She daydreamed about her sister
living past June because the doctors
say she will die soon.
She daydreamed that her brother would
stop drinking every night to numb the
the pain away because alcohol
doesn’t drain it away, it stays and drowns
you until you can’t breathe.
She daydreamed that she could leave
this so called life of hers.
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
I've traveled through outer space,
sat buckled to the seat,
daydreamed
with aliens all around.
The outside domain was a blur,
I rode supersonic steel
knifing lush countryside
between chasms
of skyscraper structures.
I tried to decipher
the language of such folk,
who seemed unfazed by my jokes.
Their gaze, the same slant,
followed my every move,
I felt like an un-caged freak,
myself an alien
in a future-world
riding bullets.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
Whilst you daydreamed,
your eyes seemed to lose their sheen
and you'd forget how to empathise.
You shut the car door hard
as if someone who wanted
to aspirate closure.
We spent two nights at the Cooden Beach hotel,
so we could hear June Tabor and Oyster band,
proceeding this performance ,
we had our four slices of toast and an Americano.
Your pink canvas bag
and polished stilettos
underneath the dinner table
hid an issue or two
playing a parallel game.
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 3:04 PM UTC
I won’t lie.
Once those eyes met mine,
I imagined.
When I watched you run your hands through your hair multiple times,
I daydreamed.
But when I saw that genuine smile and laugh you gave once I made you laugh,
I fell.
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 9:51 PM UTC
You were the beginning
Of a story
I daydreamed,
You stepped out of my mind
And into reality,
One sided conversations
Were a thing of the past,
I grew fond of you
This reflection born
But no one saw you,
And the doubts set in;
Were you real at all?
Or had I just crossed the line
In my head; where facts
Were just as real as fiction,
This set you ablaze
And as the fires burned; they consumed
What little of you I knew,
And as you disappeared
A cloud of ashes
I knew you were;
The shortest chapter in my book...
© okpoet
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
Woke with the sting of regret, it’s been too long since I fell,
I missed the rush of fresh air, I missed the taste of the smell,
I was in love with the tightrope, the stained glass of her eyes,
Bowed by the weight of surrender, I settled for compromise,
Watching those false idols dance, turning wolves into sheep,
As we played coy with the monsters that sang us to sleep,
I had a million places to go, and so much I’d hoped to say,
But I wasted another tomorrow thinking about yesterday,
And those sticky situations where we all came unglued,
While I daydreamed a sky that wouldn’t mirror my mood,
A slow dance with routine, and every face looks the same,
I was choking to death on the stale taste of my name,
So I started sanding sharp edges, hoping that I might fit in,
I spent a year writing my ending, so I could finally begin,
Dusting off open road acrobatics, I twisted south by the sea,
Searching for the rotting remains of who I thought I should be,
But it was just another battle that I lost to the war,
The same wrecking ball feet with new roads to explore,
Nothing quite felt right, my fingertips became springs,
I’d lost the girl to save the world, and other foolish things,
It was my first last-ditch effort, my best second guess,
I painted myself into a corner of the picture of success,
Fifteen-hundred miles, and still felt so far out of reach,
Until late one night my phone rang as I walked along the beach,
I told my story to the old man as he listened patiently,
When I finished, he calmly asked me to turn and face the sea,
He said, “The ocean is the journey, the sum of all you gave,
Do not lose perspective; this is but a single wave.”
I drove home that night and slept for the first time in half a week,
And when I awoke, the path before me didn’t feel quite so bleak,
I realized there’s no shame in letting someone catch us if we fall,
And that being lost is different than being nowhere at all,
I learned that each story is a lesson, not merely a scar,
And that all we have left is not the same as everything we are.
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
i used to be sad
i used to be sad
all of the time, gnawing at my nails
and bleeding burden in my mouth
as i daydreamed disasters, always
straying from words like "love."
but you taught me that happiness
is not anything that you ask for
when you see happiness,
you seize every crevice and angle and
corner of it, it is yours -
but only if you do not ask for it
you taught me that
there's too many creeps of sunlight
hiding between raindrops
as they fall,
too many open oceans offering
anchors on their beds to pull
us down under,
too many "not enoughs" and
not enough of anything anymore
because everyone is always
asking
you taught me that
if i want to glide along railroads,
i musn't turn into a bullying engine
that shouts and kicks and pushes,
but i must turn into the girl
who knows exactly what
freedom sounds like
and you taught me all of this,
you taught me
everything about love,
without saying a
single
word
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 10:55 PM UTC
Deep in his heart
He will miss it as it goes
A pool of rain
His reflection once showed him
Once upon a thousand times
A quiet man once daydreamed
Of the different formations of rain
Yet , what did he have to gain?
The war was almost over
He was such a lonely orphan
He could never confess his silence
He once heard the
Static sounds of rain
A presence of tear drops
Surrounding his eccentric mind
Everything was fading away
Time was just another memory lapse
He daydreamed until he could
No longer hear the sounds of tears
He had once remembered
When he was a child back
Before rain was so feared and hated
Before it was seen as a novel of sin
Under his dear black umbrella
He waited for nothing alone
And the clouds were a
Peppered smokey grey
They were viewed as
The separation of loss
An image of abandonment
From a hollow sky
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 12:17 AM UTC
I don't want to get started; I don't know if I have what it takes to stop it, once life is static no longer
Transient winds dislodge cobwebs from closets--
Silk mist that drifts
(Like half-daydreamed doves from our
Starlight and eyelash ark
Half-reclaimed by the sea)
Across our
New car smell, white-wash wall
Stumble before the fall,
Pick each other up and kiss the gravel off,
Apartment.
I scream "apartment",
To the concrete and steel
Of her skin, a bridge that's
Closed as tightly as her
Proust pressed flower lips.
My faults are
Tattooed across my skin
In full color comic strips.
I tongue the interior dents
Birthed when
She taught me
What apart meant.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 1:59 AM UTC
That's my private name for her...Grey Eyes. And they are very, very grey, a lake shrouded in mist. A strange thing, to be in love with a feeling. To be enamored of arrivals, departures, mitigations. Odd also, when someone leads you to an understanding of yourself...or at least, a part of yourself. It is satisfying for me to let futures go. In some strange way, it's fulfilling and sad, for someone to reach out a hand to me across the dark waters. To see a possibility, very much yearned for, and to deprive myself of it. I was given an offer today that I had thought about often, daydreamed and hungered for. Ultimately I declined, my reasons being vague at the time, though my explanation was valid (somewhat). "I get uncomfortable when I can't pack up everything and leave in a day, and I wouldn't want to do that to you". I didn't think about whether I may have hurt her by saying that, though it wouldn't have changed my answer. Something deep inside whispered of danger and confinement should I have taken that road, great sorrows unimagined. Somehow it was deeply moving to be able to stare down my childish craving, and turn away, to be able to recognize that this path was not for me. People like me, people with a history but no story, don't move in with a woman that they have feelings for and end up happy. I've walked that way before, though the stakes were much lower and I much younger. One more test passed. I never wanted to admit this about myself, but now I suppose I can accept it without shame, without anger or judgement. I sometimes enjoy killing my dreams. Rather, killing things about myself that have no purpose but to cause distraction and delay, ideas and hopes that lead sideways rather than forward. Of all the skills taught to me by my Father, this has been the most valuable.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC