F U N   W I T H   W O R D S


I skipped, traveled along this path in the aftermath
Of a waking lucid dream I thought I once had. I woke
From this dream so fleeting still dreaming so solid hard

that my head spun and I could not tell the difference between
Near and far. I looked outside my window as the shadows in
The clouds outside broke in the sky cried bright the

oncoming night as day slipped quietly into the twilight. The
Freeform thoughts emerging from my head finally brought out
Into this tragic life reflected dimly loose around a broken

pm light. I found myself standing alone throwing coins at my
Homeless soul and I realized that this sweet happy dream had
Turned cold when I was not looking. Time had flown so fickle

under the blood stream so that the very words I tried
To utter made more than less those very words completely
Intangible to me. My homeless soul did not look so weathered

as I had once originally thought before I fell asleep to keep
Myself from being and feeling alone. It seemed so freeze frame
Fresh though, the quality of these idle laundromat thoughts that

replayed when I did not ask them to. It was probably the problem
Of death that had me so distraught and from the bedside I thought
It out. It made me have such heavy thoughts throughout as I

walked the medical perspective route. They say they're doctors,
But I have me a couple of pieces of paper too,
But a breathless body is still a dead corpse

and what exactly is it that they do?
It was a thought that was 2:47 am ineffective and I chose not to
Continue further as I led myself further and further away from the

truth. The seamless quality about the pseudo reality frayed
Briefly so I flickered, twisted, moved to rush toward the good
Part of a sweet heaven to start. There were smarter ideas that

people have had that were just as bad if not better than the
Reader's Digest versions of the 13 Steps to Redemption I've read
About but how did it apply to my life was the true question. I

had a plan to recapture that sweet happy dream and to grab me a
Grip of that american pie that had been so soiled by a lifetime
Of 7-11 spoon feedings of non conforming thought and it quietly

began to coalesce above in my noggin. The problem seemed
That my life of rebellion trying to overcome conformity was the
True hindrance because I was attacking the effect and not the

cause and that has never seemed to solve anything. If I only
Knew how to get to it, I would've most likely been quite content
To row myself in a leaky dinghy across an oceany desert just so

long as I got a brief glimpse at what had been promised me as
Freely as the birds roamed the skies. But as far as dreams
Go, this book didn't have a sleeve and I didn't have a dinghy

and I didn't know where to go but I knew the answers were in here
If I just looked hard enough. So I searched and
Searched so hard that I ended up imploding to where there was

not here nor there and I was looking at myself from the inside in
And seeing places I had never been before. I took stock of
Myself and I counted treasuries of memories and a lifetime of

happy moments and I realized that my homeless soul actually
Had a fat bank wad and just forgot about it when he started
Living in a cardboard box. Go figure.

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Swagazine 9
Winter 2001

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