| I like dreams! here is one !
in search of your lost love, you depart, and slip , waiting for
the journey to start , wanting the motion to last , and the dream
never to end and collapse, to carry you along the missing path, in search
of forgotten images of your childhood life, to finally rise,
to clear the heavy dust of days that you have merely survived, to erupt
in living colors of forgotten love and old cries, to clear the tears
and ease the pain of your daily blight, to touch your soul with the sweet
taste and whisper of that first love , to hold you in a long journey across
to the other side , a dream filled with memories dripping over the shadow
of passed sorrows that slide and disappear in the narrow cracks of the
misery of life, a dream to find your lost heart, searching
among the old and darkened images that died on the steps of the tunnel
of time, traveling back , you ask the dream to forever last, not knowing
is it the real life or a gift of immense delight or a cruel stroke of the
witch of night that tantalize and deprive, glimpses of old shadows
appear strolling along the boundaries of your flight, images of long
and forgotten reflections shout and fade with strange and sorrow cries
for your early days of life, of cold and shivering nights and sounds of
the swirling winds still whistling into the cracks of your now
old and desalinate house, old tears strolling against the memory of
that lost love , too tired and weak but still trying to rise , your heart
starting to shout for you to stop the journey and to turn around , but
you ask, how can that be done and the soul still so deprived, the dream
must last , you shout, you twist your spin, in frenzy wander asking for
for that old light to appear and ease your pain and blight, your heart
starts to bound, louder and in pain and wanting to depart, you
give a final loud and desperate cry, for the memories to finally arrive ,
and when the time is almost passed, and the the moon is ready to resign ,
and surrender to the morning light and to that agitated sun waiting to
shine and erase the darkness of your night, you look around and ask
the angel of time for the precious seconds to last and last ,
but the final collapse is in sight , through its narrow cracks a bright
beam appears from a far, shouting for you in the midst of its flight,
asking for you in a soft and sweet sounds dressed in the images of your
lost delight , to you that light arrives, falls into your wide and open
arms , what you want is finally found, and no one can remove you apart,
but alas, the dream must now depart, its time has elapsed, you scream
and shout aloud for it to last, not wanting to leave what you so
desperately just found, not knowing how can you survive outside ,
alone , and without your inner life, with your lost
dream still incarcerated inside , all what you ever want is right here
crying in front of your own eyes , resting at the palm of your hands and
giving you the breath of your new life .
will the dream last? you ask, not daring to hear the reply.
/Nasser
I spell checked !
|
| >If the latter, you have a remarkable ability to create
>stream-of-consciousness run-on-sentences.
Karl,
what does the above revel ?
is it good to have this run , and what does it really mean?
I never heard it before , or even seen.
If you liked that dream, I have another one, bigger , and more extreme.
about a stormy journey covered with red mystic.
that started in the early days , but still bleeds.
a cry for lost moments that will never join in loving or in peace.
and more and more, to wonder over unable to cry or to breathe
/Nasser
I spell checked
|
|
What ! What ! what !!!
a poet! me ! me ! me !
you are being just too kind in your reply
all what I write, is some words, with no thinking or even a plan to span
if they rhyme, it is only by the fluke of some lucky chance
close the redeyes and hold the tears in sight
and let the soul sigh, and the words will erupt from the heart
to tell what it finds scattered on the gaht of the river of life
to hold for the outside in deep decry
from inside the crying words will seep with little control or synchronize
a tone dives deep and asks to excite what ever it really wants
if I think about what I may write or may not write
I fall and cant recall and just decline the exercise
the memories alone, must drive the senses trapped inside
this is all some kind of wobbly inscribe
of no significance to ascribe
it is fun to try, like the first time you wanted to fly ;-)
ok, my tea is calling me, I hear the whistle screaming in plea,
I better go and put it out of its misery , to turn the heat off and
let the water go free !
/Nasser
TM, patent #314721
I spelled checked
|