Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Sleep, an elusive tease.
Texas parched, burning.
Dreams are water.

dreaming we can't sleep
we fall into deep visions,
distant walkabout


~A

I read your words in the light of a pale sun. I imagine you with one of those traffic signs in your head. The one that warns " No Stopping Any Time ".

Anna.. beautiful poetic reply. Thank you. I have no poetry in me right now to reply with a poem. I wish I did. It's one of my favorite activities, poetic conversations.

Mingo ... You're right on target. The thoughts don't stop. I'm in full-stop mode, physically. But mentally, thoughts are tyrants occupying every node, an imperialist occupation, each spark in a synapse, a bomb explosion. Just as I drift off, another bomb goes off, another damn warmonger trying to rape the women and children and wipe out all human life. I've called in reinforcements to protect me, to no avail. Is it as simple as removing the "No Stopping Any Time" sign on my head and replacing it with a "Stop" sign? If so, how do I do that?

...........

I finally slept a fitful sleep, dreamed my ex was belittling me, accusing me of everything under the sun, ransacking my computer, reading in between lines of personal letters to others, telling me everything I said was wrong, trying to take my daughter away. In the dream, she was younger, maybe 10-years-old, maybe 8. It was horribly disturbing.

Dreams are not
answers nor remedies
but equations being solved.

Whatever the equation was I was trying to solve, I can't fathom. This is why I stay awake.

The poem needs a new title. The title is cliche.

Dreams are nightmares
Can't tell the difference from the flesh of the living
Can't helping giving yourself over
to desperate fantasy
a no-man's land forever in you mind
You walk in a haze
A cloud of deep memories
Immersed in a dreamscape
You hesitate to waken
Unsure whether or not you had ever fallen asleep at all...

there is no way to sleep when we are facing significant problems....we roll the tape over and over, this conversation with our self....and it pisses us off that stress is winning, we get angry enough to yell in the room where there is no other person.....we feel our need to sleep, yet the overstimulated brain says, Fuck You......you will listen to what I have to say.......I've obviously been there...went six months one time.....a particularly stressful period.....used to actually hallucinate at the peak of insomnia.....very difficult times indeed....hang tough,
doreen......sleep does return one day.....keep the faith..........

Loveyour writing!

Never could sleep

So many theories: dreams are, dreams are not.
And someone said it wisely once that dreams
are neither answer nor are remedies
but—hallelu—equations being solved.
But then we wake before this life's resolved
and daydream chaos through solemnities
from artist dawns to sunburned light that gleams
in evening advent of the nights, too hot
with angst and need to sleep and dream again.
Love's grand equation—Life—it equals what?
I'm certainly unsure of what to solve
and in my sure uncertainty, dissolve
and long to find some rest—I need it. But
I stay awake and stay the wage of sin.