~a question of a thousand dreams~^

“Where are you going now my love? Where will you be tomorrow? Will you bring me happiness?  Will you bring me sorrow? All the questions of a thousand dreams, what you do and what you see”

this one composes itself
for all dreams go unremembered
the first, the thousandth, the  every in between,
erased by the push button of opening eyes

but dreams come, marching in, saints mining the raw materiel
the quartermaster has stored, awaiting requisition by an
unarmed unnamed corp, witnessed but never seen

these dreams wisped soft willow budded, tempting taunting,
leaving nothing but unanswered questions that colored come
in black and white

elementary clues,
a pillow indentation,
single hair that stretches
across the sea between two pillows that is blonde or red  
but
certainly unmine,  
dregs of soured sentiment linger like the
aftertaste of too many coffees and stainless steel beers

heated summers breezes give no succor or relief,
and the rain following gives no pleasure,
for now you are hot and soaked,

but somewhere in there a dream is part replayed,
and eyes widening in major league surprise,
the question acknowledged, the dreams quest hinted  

she has gone, neither happiness or sorrow will she
provide on the morrow, no toweling of your wet hair fair,
and you awake sweat besotted, it is not rain, just pain,
and it is only one dream a thousand times repeated

and what you do and what you see
is the abraded night ahead, and
you bitter laugh, for there is no more other than to think,
the question answered, and you beg relief by
uttering
“perchance to dream”

3:49 pm

see the notes!!


someone accuses me of Plagiarism
because  I did not acknowledge that the quote in marks and Italics was from a famous song written 39 years ago

so here is my response to
“just saying”

congratulations on ******* me off
and yes I agree, you do not know the rules

“#1: Quotation Marks Are for Quoting People—Verbatim
Perhaps it should go without saying, but quotation marks are for quoting people. Quoting doesn’t mean summarizing or paraphrasing; it means repeating exactly what someone said. If you put double quotes around a phrase, your reader will often assume  that someone, somewhere, said that exact phrase or sentence.“

http://thevisualcommunicationguy.com/2013/09/11/10-things-you-really-need-to-know-about-quotation-marks/

People tell me with hushed lips and pained irises,
(pain really only flickers and quietly sinks deep within the absolute oblivions of you.)
that it will get better.
"You grieve, I have done it. Every person has."

Not for this one.

Not for him or her that is.

She had the sort of wittiness that would cut right though that
buttery feeling of warmth
wisped from
one hell of
a
smile.
Guess whose?

He had one of the loveliest voices, one that lulls your tired eyelids to much needed sleep.
A voice that will inexplicably grasp your fingertips when you feel utterly lost and breathless with pain.

And, I could go
   on,  
on
&
on.

Just that my very voice will be cracked
by
the
sweet, bitter
goodbye
whispered by
the yellowing memories
of    

*them.

It is Cinders upon string
Charred reminiscence of what
Kept away the
Terror,
Horror,
Bad
Dreams where caught weaved
Into its substance, sleeping, dreams
Captured upon the feathers they wisped
Them away in to the winds,
But then that dream, that moment as
My body lay still as if
Rigor mortis,
Stiffness,
Death
Looked upon me, but then as if
Grabbed by the unseen
My back arches,
Arms spread out, fingers open as if
Feathers for me to take flight,
"Then the scream,"
As my lungs petrified to breath to
Inhale
&
Exhale
That moment before unconsciousness
Then air seeps, surges in
And the dream catcher, rekindled
What was charred, feathers ash
Now hang again from twine,
Darkness tried to
Envelope,
Surround,
Suffocate
Me, within my dream
But the aura of the catcher
Breathed light
Into my mind, vanquished
That which seeded within,
I settle now, never knowing that the
Dream, darkness nestled upon me
But my dream catcher
Kept me safe from outside as well as with in.

Her solitude creeps
Along the early morning glow.

She sighs,
Solicitude leaking from the sky.

Her wisped hands
seek out companionship.

She whispers;
Words carry a shiver up your spine.

Her voice
Writes invisible sounds.

She is still searching,
Loveless and alone.

Her heart
Stifles hateful tears.

Her trepidation
Takes over.

She retreats,
away from the glow.

Happiness

No more than plume of smoke
To be wisped away by these august winds

Where prosperity resides only to breed false hope.

A tempory state of mind!
Of weak emotion!

We use to mask what real pain is yet to come!
Where death be the true happiness we’ll
find!

For then our pain no longer be here!

A feeble lie we give ourselves !
Oh happiness

concentric rings around

a rosie, tiny magicians with

pockets full of posies.

rattling in a birdcage, dancing away

between bars--teal blue

hats and cloaks, overlaid with

icy yellow stars.

broom-beards wisped down to

their feet, apercus gloaming.

scroll mustiness of aslant starlight--

shuffling space dust divining an Age.