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JIMMY WARNER DESIGN,
Any Resemblance to persons living or dead is purely
I rarely reveal the names of anyone who may or may not be my
Lucid Dreams in Search of a Poem
girlfriend who plots and connives...
Dreams in Search of a Poem
part III continued...
You draw like an angel, reproductive life your fortť,
become the teacherís pet without trial and error,
board ready, express the science lesson, grab the
sense before sensation sets in, chalk of many colors,
envy of all who hide their patient light in bushels.
Goofy as a guy on Andean brush, the red leaf of
high tea and alkaloids streaming to the brain you
never dared to yield the right of way to, for all the
trouble it got you in, all the lies it got you out of.
A real girlfriend who plots and connives, her bulb
lined avenues laid out in ways she may regret but
not the ride, the fall however far is worth the ride,
the back seat your only preparation for the front.
My father is gone daddy, dead at forty-eight, deep
thrombosis to the brain of all the knowledge that
kept me waiting for the yellow light of living large
and revving at the edge of entropy I needed to cross.
Another scary night of darkness afore thought, to
be immersed in Erebusí ole vacuum cleaner bag,
feel the dream fly away you dreamed to feel good.
All night road of all night music and fiery night
with cinder sprays alight, the all night drives, an
avenue of star-like tracery in motion, cigarettes
in tandem with heavy plans, the wind blown gig.
What comes over you when life happens, breath.
Tracks in snow become symbols, coming, going.
If school ever mattered the test will be dreamed
again & forever repeated, my tone deaf audience.
Nightmares never cease. The horse drawn hearse
in shimmery symmetry rides the circuit of servant
and prince, lady and laundress, no rest until the
last round of promise plays out. Snap a twig you
suffer the fang, yet folly carries a dignity of its own.
If I ever find dignity in a dismal dream, specter of
glistening dark, radiant neon purple overflowing,
I will wrap myself in that royalty, roped in gold.
She tied a ribbon round it, gave it to me for my birthday.
Didnít feel virgin, not for as many times I rehearsed the
event, made up stories and fantasies, swore to race car
drivers I was front left seat with it. Gas can road? Can do.
Know the routine by heart. Fireworks in the back seat
& all, trouble was she wanted to be on top and I slid out.
Iíve jumped from moving taxis for less than a quiver of
arrows and all her needs that better targeted, get me mine.
More to come in a covenant of gusto and fun time review.
part I part
II part III
part IV continued
JW by JW
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