"sleepwalking" poems
They hate the shadow of the bird
over the high water of the white cheek
and the conflict of light and wind
in the salon of the cold snow.
They hate the bodiless arrow,
the precise handkerchief's farewell,
the needle that keeps the pressure and the rose
in the cereal blush of the smile.
They love the blue desert,
the swaying bovine expressions,
the lying moon of the poles,
the water's curved dance at the shore.
With the science of tree trunk and street market
they fill the clay with luminous nerves
and lewdly skate on waters and sands
tasting the bitter freshness of their millennial spit.
It's through the crackling blue,
blue without worm or a sleeping footprint,
where the ostrich eggs remain eternal
and the dancing rains wander untouched.
It's through the blue without history,
blue of a night without fear of day,
blue where the **** of the wind goes splitting
the sleepwalking camels of the empty clouds.
It's there where the torsos dream under the gluttony of grass.
There the corals soak the ink's despair,
the sleepers erase their profiles under the skein of snails
and the space of the dance remains over the final ashes.
7.5k
"One lie weakens a thousand truths."
"Karma finishes what revenge neglects."
"Time heals, steals and reveals."
"The future is uncertain, but we play a part in its design."
"Help when you can. Pray when you can't."
"If your life is out of focus, it's time to change the lens."
"Instincts over impulse, always."
"The only thing better than a second chance is never needing one."
"Fear is a light sleeper."
"The devil is always looking for a dance partner."
"You can't change the past, but it can change you."
"Some are born with a silver spoon, others with a pitchfork."
"Even the smallest of pebbles has its place in the sand."
"Every tear has a name."
"Write your failures in pencil; your triumphs in ink."
"Hope is always listening."
"The best companion is your imagination."
"Two things you should always trust: your gut and your God."
"Scars speak every language."
"Only I think like me."
"We're remembered for three things: the times we did good, the times we did bad and the times we did nothing."
"Every underdog wants to be top cat."
"Love never travels alone."
"Hindsight teaches when the test is over."
"Dreams reveal what memories conceal."
"The problem with the world is the wolves outnumber the sheep."
"You can't spell tragedy without rage."
"Intuition is your strongest ally."
"Focus on the valley and the hills will disappear."
"Never trust an idle thought."
"A wounded animal always shows its teeth."
"When you ignore pain, it ignores you."
"The past and future are distant cousins."
"We're all buried treasures waiting to be found."
"Moonlight is for lovers and devils."
"Temptation always invites itself to the party."
"Everyone's story has a secret."
"Scents and songs are nostalgic reminders."
"Time is a tattletale."
"There's a special place in heaven for those who suffer on earth."
"Life is a dir†y fighter."
"Sometimes all that's left is a penny and a wish."
"The mirror mimics what the mind imagines."
"Tomorrow is a wild card."
"My favorite exercise is sleepwalking."
"What the blind man sees, the sighted man seeks."
"The ego is a phony friend."
"Luck will take you as far as fate allows."
"Two things that never forget: elephants and broken hearts."
"My train of thought has no conductor."
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 2:49 PM UTC
Independence is our cry,
pride is our name.
We are all separated by countries and oceans,
but our mindset is one and the same.
The concept of change, we fear;
the idea of an altered lifestyle haunts us,
but the awareness that our home is binding our thoughts
remains as our threshold away from the darkness.
You board the plane, begin to set sail, put on your best shoes and run
away from the chaos, breaking the chains, stating your name to be free.
Your heart is racing as the grasp of new land is just miles within your reach
the only words your mind can make up in that moment are “¡Libre soy alfin!”
The moment is just minutes away now, you can almost feel la tierra
El momento is almost here and you just want to chant “¡LIBERTAD!”
But you can’t. You’re not there yet, only growing more eager.
You’re impatient now; what happened to the claridad?
What happened to that clarity in your mind when you were so sure of what you wanted?
It has been replaced by the fear of not being enough.
It has been replaced by the fear of getting sent back to that confinement you once called home.
Now you realize this new life will be tough.
You step foot en la tierra libre,
the anxiety gets to your bones.
Thoughts race through your mind
there’s disbelief that this is your new home.
The sensation of wandering on clouds,
sleepwalking your life away is overwhelming;
your eyes now resemble that oceanic pathway
whilst los abrazos de abuela you are yearning
The concept of change we fear;
the idea of an altered lifestyle haunts us,
and the awareness that our family is still stitched at the lips
has become our allure back into the darkness.
But independence is our cry,
pride is our name.
Precincts may separate us,
yet our mindset remains one and the same:
¡Que viva la libertad!
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 6:47 PM UTC
For me, love has always been like sleepwalking. I never remember how I get there but there are always footprints behind me in the snow that appear to be the same size as my own. Somehow I ended up there again, with my face turned upward and the wind kissing it. Whoever compared love to warmth was lying. It is cold. It is the inch between solid ground and frozen lake that you can't see. It is the fog that clings to the tops of trees and softly whispers your name. It is the frost on your window that reminds you how easily things can break. The worst part of falling in love is falling out of love. The worst part of sleepwalking is waking up.
You woke up.
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
Everyone’s sleepwalking through city square
It’s twelve fifty seven
And seventy families have bled black against Israel’s rockets
Come Sunday morning
The drunks in my hometown
Will be too hungover to recognise their own faces
While Palestinians across the world
Will have to sort through the bones of dead relatives
This country was built on colonial empathy
Freedom from suffering through self-absorbed apathy
We’re all sewn to our seats
Caring for nothing
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
there was little cow he was black and white
and he used to sleep walk whenever it was night
he wandered all around walking in his sleep
all around the meadow then in among the sheep
he wandered through the dale and all along the glen
then he would turn around and walk back home again
back in to his bed the little cow would creep
the he would settle down and fall back fast asleep
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 12:01 PM UTC
i.
mist in solemnity
mutes the sounding
leather bells in silence
ii.
salt surges waste wantonly
gulls guttural in guises
of waifs
iii.
driftwood delivered dull of
deluged dilution
ochre offering to dune's
divestment
iii.
sea glass shivers into
shallow sandy pockets
scintillating color schemes
iiii.
conches lie abandoned
in stands of sea grasses
cacophonous quiet
v.
i am wide awake yet dreaming
sleepwalking
into the
waves
SoulSurvivor
(C) 2/1/2016
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 8:08 AM UTC
(Genesis chapter 1:6 and God said: “Let there be a firmament in the midst of the water, and let the waters be divided by the water.” I never understood this statement, well not until I wrote this poem).
The ocean.
It’s just a wetter version of the sky
a graveyard' of poetry
that broke into my heart and open my eyes,
and I saw the brightest darkness mirror reading
handwritten dreams cuffing the stars consoling the rain
whom tears laugh
and in that laughter, I hear the words
God hates you
these insulting tears that only once god could hear
now speaks to me with warring tongues
and I had nothing deep to say
just a crushed sentence
a pile of regret
a sky that jumped on my train thought
and we went from an angelic blue to a halo of black.
God, I do apologize if you feel like I have displeased you.
See I have been searching for a weightless god
because the others are too heavy
and too weak like watered down gospel,
Weak like the dark side of poetry
Weak like a religious inside joke no one gets
Forgive me for you know everything I don't
so tell me am I a self-portrait of you and will you promise to
clean ***** lost souls like mine
and will u forgive me for having an enchanted mind
You see I often mistook you for a poem that has never been written
Mistook you for masculine words that became undone
I mistook you for a selfless father that has more than one son
Mistook you for a sky filled with multiple sunsets.
I know nothing of you,
you unseen god
tell me am I of the other god
am I his fleshly creation standing outside my normal heartbeat
and on the footnotes of his story
standing breathing whirlwinds on death ears of soundless music
into the lungs of his bible
The lungs of his heaven that often resembles the blood stains in his hell
blood that flows throughout my veins and into an anthem of sorrow
Sung with broken tongues
sorrow buried in all kind if ancient languages
And I sit in this hell crying with roses
that's been wounded by his thoughts and
his words shoved into each other and I hate this
so much that I stripped down to pain and
I am exposed naked with caution
and I can see that my heart is a jealous god also
an egoistic ghost filled with love I never felt
a love that has no title
a love I am not entitled to feel
and why should I be
When that god knows I am a sleepwalking addict high off of pain
why should I be when that God knows I am as useless as a headless butterfly
When I should be more like the ocean
Yeah just a wetter version of the sky
The human body is made up of 75% water
(So in Genesis chapter 1:6 when God said “Let the water be divided by the water.” Where did that water go? It is in me).
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 12:47 PM UTC
My secrets are burning a hole through my heart
And my bones catch a fever
When it cuts you up this deep
It's hard to find a way to breathe
Your eyes are swallowing me
Mirrors start to whisper
Shadows start to see
My skin's smothering me
Help me find a way to breathe
Time stood still
The way it did before
It's like I'm sleepwalking
Fell into another hole again
It's like I'm sleepwalking
I'm at the edge of the world
Where do I go from here?
Do I disappear?
Edge of the world
Should I sink or swim?
Or simply disappear?
Your eyes are swallowing me
Mirrors start to whisper
Shadows start to see
My skin's smothering me
Help me find a way to breathe
Seeing as time stood still
The way it did before
It's like I'm sleepwalking
Fell into another hole again
It's like I'm sleepwalking
Wake up!
Take my hand and
Give me a reason to start again
Wake up!
Pull me out and
Give me a reason to start again
Time stands still
Time stands still
Your eyes are swallowing me
Mirrors start to whisper
Shadows start to see
My skin's smothering me
Help me find a way to breathe
Time stood still
The way it did before
It's like I'm sleepwalking
Fell into another hole again
It's like I'm sleepwalking
Time stood still
The way it did before
It's like I'm sleepwalking
All Credits to Bring Me The Horizon.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lir3dzYIhz0
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 5:42 PM UTC
Karma is as karma does, don't ever wonder why
Worry about what once was...until the day you die
Wasting days and nights as life"s burdens worsen
Commit before it is too late to be a better person
Enjoy the feast but most of all appreciate the famine
Indulge the beast but always look at life and examine
Regret is a curse drastically never to be undone
Numb and wash it over with momentary fun
Only to return again just like a smoking gun
Reminded when you eclipse me just like the sun
Been Sleepwalking through my daily race to run
Bittersweet life to leave, alive an then... You're done
The globe will spin as time again whispers in your ear
Deaths approaching all of us therefore you have no fear
Grasp the wheel decisively and let your fate begin to steer
But always analyze and learn from your rear view mirror
The road is slick, and windows fogged as you begin to veer
Traction comes as happy birthday drums bring another year
No matter how severe the storm becomes it will soon be clear
Jubilant exuberance from your eyes as they expel one last tear
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 10:46 PM UTC
Getting up on mornings without you is not waking,
just loveless man sleepwalking.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 1:29 AM UTC
"fingerprint tracking technology"
articles are so foolish.
They can seek my fingerprints,
all they like
but it's my footprints
along the ashphalt by the shore-
it is those which will never fade.
They'll lead you to my place,
through my visceral dreams
and to the darkest places on earth.
And if you'll walk my path tonight,
you may also see the sea
looking black.
And if you've the right sorta soul,
At dark ocean waves
it'll wave back.
The sky yields no stars
but don't fret;
this was never to be a poem of beauty.
No, just of darkness,
and stars
that a midnight sky lacks.
I am less than honorable
My intent less than clean.
And the canker of my life?
Greater than you've ever seen!
Virtues; I have none.
Morals; I have none.
Light: I have one.
It's in the nightlight of her heart.
She follows me around
like a sweet haunting ghost.
Sometimes, i forget she is there
watching me, without thought.
I am a blank space to her;
For her.
A blank space to stare into.
I was her greatest gift, she once said.
I remember the way she said it,
All the words tender
and running together.
Yes; and with no voice. Only
the movement of lips
into silent sleeptalking mumbles
in my sleepwalking hours.
So my nightlight,
won't you come with me
and haunt me beside the shores once more?
My darling, remind me of how worthless I am
And let me rot in your arms.
(without fingerprints or footprints,
i could never touch your heart.)
Always, in her arms.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 6:50 AM UTC
It's funny.
How your bed can be your best friend or your worst enemy
How it contains your worst nightmares and most splendid dreams
And how awful it is.
That people don't know how you feel
when you wake up and you still think the demons are real
Morning after morning I'm in fear when I wake
Trying to calm down fearing what it will take
and when I look back on what i did while I slept
I shake.
Because I cannot trust myself
While I am asleep.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
August is the month of storms and strong winds
Causing damage in the parts where the heart lives
It’s bad whether you forget or remember
Because in the end, it doesn’t matter
August is the time of sunshine and heat
Humidity chokes you, drowning you the moment you try to breathe.
August is also the time when the supplies are needed
The new steps into that new building that has become your life
A schedule to be dragged into, and now we’re just going through the motions
What did we do today? What did we do?
My memory is foggy, and my words are soft
Was I just sleepwalking? Was I just lost?
August is the month where one day decides your future in these rooms of faces
You could chase for a hand to hold, but you’re met by empty spaces
August is the month with crowded halls and ringing bells when the class stops
It’s the gossip that you hear but they don’t know, the whispers behind your back
And those nice compliments are the thunder, but you know under is the attack
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 10:47 AM UTC
I’m ready for revolution
there won't be no midnight Revere
but let me tell you, it’s coming
cause I’ve had just about too many nights
dreaming dreams that ain’t mine
I go to bed in hollow bird-bone shackles
dreaming the world is telling me to fly
but only South, cause that’s where I’ll be successful
...I know success is really flying North and coming out alive
so when I wake
I get a book for a pillow and a pencil paper night stand
cause I’ve just been thinking its my time to take a stand
so here I stand
fluttering limbs and a nervous system that’s **** nervous
but I’m here
for it’s time that I tell my story
it’s time that I know who I am
I am done sleepwalking in the dreams of others -
unconscious of my own conscience
this is my manifesto
to reclaim my crumpled dreams from a forgotten pocket,
to spread them out before me and point where I’m going to go
this is my manifesto
to forget about the past, and the future
to dance to good music
to tell a girl when she’s beautiful
and to have the courage to cry
this is my manifesto
to speak loud
run fast
to love hard
and to let go
for that is all I must do
let go of the placating promises that keep my dreams anchored in tomorrow
push off from the shore
and let the very current that courses through my veins
carry me out to sea
for there is an ocean.. waiting for me
an entire world in which I get to sail in whatever direction I please
so please, come with me
push off from the shore with your own manifesto at the helm
and we won’t sail together,
but when we pass, I’ll wave.
and you’ll wave too.
for we both know that the ocean is ours,
and we’re just dreaming after all
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 12:07 AM UTC
Sleepwalking through life.
Sleepwalking through strife.
Daydreaming about happier times,
Then you came into my life.
I've never known this joy
Stemmed from the love of a boy,
Who holds me close and makes me smile--
My heart he won't destroy.
Stay in my life. Keep me awake.
My heart is yours; it's yours to take.
My reviver-- that's what you are.
My awakener-- brighter than any star.
Sleepwalking is no more because of who you are.
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 4:20 PM UTC
Can't I just sleep for now
Pages and pages of words
Nightmares and fallen shapes
This state of dreaming has left me numb
I lie here miserable
Why did god fail to improve us?
Maybe I'm just sleepwalking?
Visions of better times
Ascending hills and mountain tops
Watching the teardrops and acid rain
What if I'm the one that's awake?
You are all just sleepwalking
Can't we all just sleep for now?
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 12:21 PM UTC
She lay there beside him
cradled in his arms
warmth radiating from him
seeping into her veins
flowing through her blood
creating a blissful peace
an ecstasy like induced state
because he was her drug
blurring the hard edges into soft lines
mixing her dreams with reality
a sleepwalking state of pure rapture
and so she thought
that getting high off of his love
was something she will never
regret.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
i used to lay on the snowed-in flowerbeds
of nan's backyard. once it snowed enough,
you couldn't tell that a ****** of perrenials
slept peacefully there: all crushed
and crooked beneath
dirt and ice.
some days she'd come and join me
if the ground was soft enough:
we'd stargaze up into the cosmos
of pine trees overhead and listen
for the stillness of winter - the hush
of silence that lingered in the air.
ivy and henbit writhed
gingerly underfoot:
a quiet dogfight
of frozen earth
that begged a
sluggish spring
to come out of
hiding.
Mar 14, 2022
Mar 14, 2022 at 9:47 PM UTC
_some days are worse than others. the tide pulls me under most times._
_no buoy or life jacket to keep me afloat._
_it's more like an anchor dragging me down into the depths._
_some days I can hardly even breathe. my chest hurts from the moment I wake up to the moment I try to sleep._
_but I'm just sleepwalking on an ocean of happiness I can never swim in._
_i look in the mirror and the smile I see is not the one you gave me so long ago._
_its just a ghost of a memory I can never get back._
_i'm getting better at tricking the darkness into letting it's grip off of my heart._
_i'm getting better at keeping my head above water._
_i'm getting better at pretending it's all alright even though I'm constantly breaking inside._
_i don't know how much more I can break._
_i sure do miss you being here._
_you were my life jacket that kept me safe from the most devastating hurricanes._
_i don't know what I did to make it all go away._
_please come home._
Nov 18, 2020
Nov 18, 2020 at 4:49 PM UTC
My Life is a Scratched CD (OR Blue Collar Lament- The Little Napper Remix)
Lines taken from poems by JM Romig (Ursa Somniculosa/CD Skipping Down Route 11) and Ryan Kinney (Blue Collar Lament)
It's long drive on this highway
The window creeks
- its jagged way down
I breathe in the new air for the first time in months
the CD starts skip-skip words
Hopping over - lines
Reminding me
Of finite fuel
repeat-
finite time
With work looming just hours away
repeat-
Death, just decades away
I spend most of my week
in the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
on repeat
in a semi-conscience trance
watching multi-million dollar machines work
repeat
in the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
is a constellation of dirt, chipped paint
and cobwebs
forming the shape
of a bear
lounging in a hammock
skip
They are more alive than I am.
Monday at 3 PM I click off my brain,
switch on automatic,
repeat
automatic
skip
- the countdown:-T-minus 40 hours.
Each minute that ticks by
in the dull monotony slowly steals my sanity,
bit by bit
Each minute closer to Friday
slower and slower,
until on Friday they seem to tick
backwards--
skip
I have coworkers
who insist that it's a monkey,
trapped in a net
Each day blurs into the other
making them indistinguishable.
Repeat-
My finite time
Monday,
the entirety of the previous week
on repeat-
T-minus 40 hours.
skip
they are wrong.
It's clearly a bear
In the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
repeat-
Death - just decades away.
The dictator they put in charge of the asylum
barks out commands on cue,
just to remind everyone that they own you.
skip
The desperation for dollars
are the shackles that keep me here.
I often welcome sleepwalking:
I think of Emerson
On repeat-
Skip-
I think I feel like his transparent eyeball
repeat-
His eyeball-
I begin to understand
I begin to feel like I'm one with everything
skip-
everyone is love
repeat
love
every-Everyone is me
and you
skip-skip
-the impending coma
In the few instances the machines malfunction
I curse being awakened.
At least as a zombie, I don't feel
my mind rotting
repeat
the rotting constellation of dirt,
chipped paint and cobwebs:
Ursa Somniculosa
No matter where I am on the floor,
I can see him hanging there in his hammock
on the weekends I love life.
I shed the identity the uniform has forced upon me
and my true self emerges--
repeat
my finite fuel
In the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
repeat
the desperation for dollars
I truly only live two days a week
repeat
my finite time
I'm dying the other five
skip-skip
I think of Ursa Somniculosa -
In the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
enjoying his perpetual vacation
maybe sipping on a nice tall beer
soaking up the sun -
NOT being a trapped monkey
like all of us down here
on repeat
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
Whimsical youth
absentmindedly fell -
cliffside,
abruptly.
Love to the stars,
oath taken to stone;
to help you,
instruct me.
~
Stillness the moorland
of cherry pie kiss,
unwilling
fruition.
Patience, wise virtue
foremothers instilled,
jeune fille
in submission.
~
Tame was the Beast
at the mountain's heart deep,
lethargic,
sleepwalking.
Wild was the Princess
in her dreams of pink sweet
sins, secrets,
unspoken.
~
Long were the years
under fallen rocks over.
Now doubtlessly
older.
Black was one night,
set her sadness alight,
but the ash left
her colder.
~
Monsters awakened,
set the footpath ablaze,
hopelessly
grieving.
Freedom I call
you, trying to persuade
you, truth
unforgiving.
Mar 18, 2021
Mar 18, 2021 at 7:03 PM UTC
I awake to the midnight morning
of sleepwalking
the thumping of my soul deep in the
morning twilight
children slumber under their
dark covers as I emerge
from dreams of hope and despair
under my bittersweet tongue
their slumber
and mine
expectant and hopeful
anxiety ridden in our own way
blessed am I to unfold
during the AM hours
of morning radio
cold floors and
oil black
coffee of the watchman’s variety
alive to hear my strange thoughts
and my children safe but for a moment
as I sleepwalk
in darkness
Jun 14, 2010
Jun 14, 2010 at 6:17 AM UTC