Tag Archives: Dreams

Sick of sense (poem of mine)

I do not know my self
The one who salutes me
As a shadow
At the foot of my bed.

You,
Dark, dark creature,
Who sucks the daylight from my pores
Who steals the moonshine
That coats my floors.

The moon,
The sick, sick, moon.
The marble, sugary,
White
Green
Blue.

I do not know my self
The one who stands
At the foot of the bed
Who breathes the sweet air?
Who sleeps with my dreams?

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I don’t want my eyes open (poem of mine)

I don’t want my eyes open
I want the black dreams
The jittery
Reminiscence
I want the revelation
Of turning clouds
And pale skies
That drown like
Ghosts in the light.

I don’t want my eyes open,
I want peace
Like a plain sheet
And a window propped
To an outside chorus
And a mind as clear
As a blue day.

I don’t want my eyes open
To feel my stomach churn
Head burning with conversation
The friction
Of the daily grind.
I don’t want
My eyes open.

Send me back (poem of mine)

Tainted apple of my soul,
Sealed,
In my envelope of hope.
What worm
Hunted your silky flesh
Like a rifle to your tenderness.

I hate the night,
Yet
Happily,
I resign to sleep
Then I wake,
Grey brained as a cigarette.
Just send me back
Boil me down.

Or let me rest.
Just a raindrop
on your windowsill.

Under dreams (Your soft awakening) – original poem of mine

 

They say
To dream of a staircase
Is a reminder
Of ascension.
To have these thoughts
So quietly breathe in you,
“I am alive” ..

When you land,
It reminds you
What is left behind.
One touch,
On the icy void,
Is enough to leave
A startled longing for that cold relief.

On awakening,
The passing hours before night,
They languish on the days as a heavy sigh.
Like the dead flesh of emptiness.

What is golden is now a fleeting vision,
And all you see
Is the cold silence behind the grey pane
Where all thoughts
Are frozen
In this animated suspension.
The world,
Is loose at the edges,
Where it folds
You hope you will slip through it’s fingers again.

In the dream
All runs smoother
Like water over palms.
In the cold light of day,
Thought is gristly,
And everything grates
Like the sand in my eyes
That day I lay with my head by your side
And the waves soothed the morning tide.

When you realise a dream,
Is an illustration
Etched only in thought,
You can never mourn what you couldn’t lose.
As you pull down a web,
And it dissolves in your hand,
It is the same,
It is the empty loss of the last touch,
And the cracked voice of a silent goodbye,
That guides you
To your soft awakening.