Dreams – Page 2 – SIMPLE WORLD

Simple World: Morning Edition

The air itself was music. It was not self-imposing like the train noise echoing from a distant place neither was it chipping away morning lullabies like the birds on the poles and trees. It was amidst all, and everything around it was consumed by its unapparent presence. Without most knowing, life was giving away its most prized rhythms for free. And all who thought they could hear sounds of bytes were voided in the gift of hearing.

During a dreadful storm one does care about the shouts or cries of the sea, all that matters is coming out at the brighter side of the tale. Heroic, yet a good sailor not great (because there are no great) will listen to the ascending roars of the waves and with deep insight into the ways of the water, he or she will pass through with ease. Now we all have different paths, but regardless of the set road we have a singular end point; same destination. Some require rugged tricks to pull out from the beast of the sea. But no matter your gift, wise or unwise, understanding the waves of life will help you in finding that road you desperately need to embark on, and when or if you listen, maybe your path will call out your name; Loud and strong.

For the sins of man has been fully paid.
Nothing can stop the token your thighs received when you first echoed your cries.
Rebelling against even mata, a fist of odd thoughts.
Knocking on the door of joy, craving for the taste of sea.
Morning come, money go

Simple World

The water rose till the glass that held it in broke into smaller pieces. The current had exploded and those caught in the waves were left to curse their luck. The lucky ones stared hard, and without any reason they let loose of vile words and curses. They threw their offense at the wounded ones without an offer to help. “Why should we?” Some of them questioned. “These filthy souls asked for the dirt.”

So the pain again receives no answers. The turmoil most mirrors suffer; always receiving accusing stares from the unassuming onlooker. Out of body, without hesitation the particle of mind will find its source. Believe it or not, the same goes for those who wish to drink from the fountain others reject.

No money to ask for a date. The broke man will use the words of strength or the strength in words to reach the heart of the red star. Never question the moth who buzzes close to the flame without papers. The sign says out but the arrow puts inwards. Laziness might be a disease but hard-work is hardly infectious.

The walk of confidence shows discipline and the slash of an angry man shouts victorious. Remember, the soul will cry but the body will remain for a week or so. The demands of the hardly-working man causes the less-able to always stay in comfortability. No wrong, as long as your own way works.

The embrace from the screams of the never visited place called Venetian. The lung dries up from always saying what the bucket can handle. There! Nothing is left for this part, so onto another.

Coincidentally, the day came with full force; blazing bright. The flight to the top of the happy rhymes was rejected by those who feared the stars. The light all hope to find is in the darkness that most fear to live in. No one fears the cloud-dust up high, but we all fear the shadow, whose only desire is to reveal the unknown.

Though my dream ends here, I still have nightmares bright in the day. The advice is to go to that place where rejection came in abundance. Unlike what they say, the lessons in life is abundant and very unapparent. In darkness, we must first find that tunnel and then maybe later the light. And to think, life was so simple back then when peaches were extremely delicious.

My dreams though.

A New Element

The end is here

Redemption peeps

Nights of wasted right

The artist with a dream

After all the sins have been laid

The world becomes you

The ability to forgive

Rock bottom in direction

In Night, or out of prison

Forth cometh that soul you dreamt of

Never fear

The heart of gold has melted

Kaleidoscopic Dreams

If you may, allow me to let you in on a little secret. Where may I begin? Right here, I guess. You see, I have these several, several dreams, many of which I almost never seem to wake up from. In between these episodes, I reach far deep into where I want to be in life. And, every time I try to wake up into my dream, the path becomes nothing more than a scene of an empty room stinking with the smell of vintage books. Sometimes, I try to trick the Queen in my dreams, but her knowledge knows no bound. She told me to break, to break, I must amend, and to amend, I must seek the red bird.

So I tell her “Where do I find this bird?”

“In freedom,” she said, “A place lacking mannered discontent.”

So back there, I went.

Back here, there is nothing, but the empty smiles I receive; faces loosely cringed and plastered together with false hope. Yet again, I am filled with great disappointment.

“These faces have no answers!” I shout.

Faces after faces, I tear away and amend the missing scraps, hoping to find that one bird. The days go brighter and longer; refusing to give into the darker times.

Like a perfect time, I fall right into the sands of time. With rain falling, and the moon shining, I found her. The red bird looking down on me welcomed me with a tune. To my utter astonishment the red bird cried these words to me.

“You fool! All you needed was to fall. All along, I waited by the Iroko tree, night after night.”

After all had been resolved, I and the red bird fly back there without much haste. In my state of equanimity, I quietly hoped I had found my cure because, I badly wanted rid myself of melancholy.

So back there, we went.

Back there, where leeway was abundant, and the bird played her tune with much ease.