Poetic Explosion

[WIREMAN]

Does your mind sometimes.....wander,
out across the leaking plain....no judgement sits-
out across the powder blue....horizon,
beyond where the peach turns to pink.

Have you ever sat in the alley wondering
where it all went?

The you that is now unable to grasp the
you that was then,
total action day.....the world
it will explode with poetry....can't help it!

[gypsyjoker]

Does your mind sometimes.....wander,

Mad boy’s love song
The air so thin in her presence
I can’t find my breath
My mind takes a short holiday
No thoughts
Only aching desire
And fear
A feeling of walking on ice that is cracking under my feet
One foolish word,
And she will be gone
My heart beating in my throat
She draws me to her

I have a wandering lover who wanders through my dreams

[WIREMAN]

ungraspable dreams,
scenarios rarely developed
the artist needs to dream,
in sleep they create &
if allowed to tap it out
in the glory of morning,
the results cause a
shine on an otherwise
dull earth......

[mnaz]

I've been places, spare and wide,
where even thoughts were stranded.
I saw the far side of the sun last spring.
I counted vibrations of big bang theories
for a living, only for a living,
to run laps around yesterday.

[palephx]

Your mind, sometimes...I wonder.
Out, across the leaking pain of indulgence. Set
out, across the powder horizon, a line
where the white turns to red.

The you who is Now-
unable to grasp the
you that was Then-
take action today. Our world
explodes, in heresy.

Madboy’s Lovesong:
The air so thin in his presence
I can’t find my breath--my mind
on a holiday from thought.
Only aching desire and fear of feeling,
walking
on ice that is forming before my eyes.
One foolish word,
and I will be wronged.
My heart beating in my throat;
he draws me near.

I have a wandering lover
who wonders about my dreams.

Inaudible screams,
schemas barely enveloped
by the artist's belief in need.
In sleep he creates and,
if allowed to etch it out,
in the hoar of morning,
the results burn
into an otherwise
icy realm......

I've seen pieces, jigsawed and tiny,
where events, thoughts, were prisoners
in the fair light of the Sun. Last sprung,
I counted the dimensions of our universe
for a living--only to feel alive,
to run laps around a tomorrow
that may never come.

[gypsyjoker]

to run laps around a tomorrow
that may never come.

that is funny stuff

Yes effective dreaming is a very good topic for a sci fi novel. I think Ursala Lequin wrote one called 'The Lathe Of Heaven" We are all turned on lathe of heaven, if tormorrow morning does not come, it leaves us only the now. Dreams are cheap entertainment. I love them, no matter what the content. Awake in the middle of the night screaming and crying for my mother. Remember those?

I been dreaming about my creator lately, not many dreams about him.

[palephx]

Yes effective dreaming is a very good topic for a sci fi novel. I think Ursala Lequin wrote one called 'The Lathe Of Heaven" We are all turned on lathe of heaven, if tormorrow morning does not come, it leaves us only the now. Dreams are cheap entertainment. I love them, no matter what the content. Awake in the middle of the night screaming and crying for my mother. Remember those?

Try 'Left Hand of Darkness,' then. I love UKL. I figured everyone else here would appreciate the hommage/synthesis above, regardless of what it may say about dreams, themselves. We bring and take what we want with such pieces.

I haven't had a dream that left me screaming and/or crying for my mother in approximately three decades. It would be interesting to have one now, I suppose. I would very much want to learn more about anything capable of generating such inchoate fear.

[gypsyjoker]

Just a GO, don't mean nothing

So many nightmares from the war.

then in 1948 I had a dream about an underground hosptital where I was taken down through a man hole cover in the street into a huge tunnel where little boys were changed into girls

My last crying screaming nightmare was a mere sixty years ago. I am so much younger now.

I really did not care for left hand, I found it boring, one man's meat is anothers poison. But the Lathe of Heaven was made into a very good film on PBS. I liked the sound track a lot. Joe Cocker singing with a little help from my friends.

I would very much want to learn more about anything capable of generating such inchoate fear.

As i remember the dream I had just watched a movie called one million years BC. a black and white grade b movie with dinosaurs. Terrodactyl terror, the fear of my what big teeth you have all the better to eat you up with.

"come hear uncle john's band, he is playing to the rising tide."

[mnaz]

I went 'round the bend,
mad stroke of Sonoran smoke
fresh caress of blown clay dust
drunk on a heatwave, flowing
over its waver and boil,
toward yonder shore,
inside my desert
mind.

[WIREMAN]

the spinning wheel
gandhi sittin before
it in white,
round and round
homespun freedom,
shackles undone........

[gypsyjoker]

gandhi's wheel
a sonoran smoke
a desert mind

[WIREMAN]

ayahuasca vision
above nazca plains
monkey & spider
a trident pointing
the way to the sea
ancient flyer miles...........

[palephx]

ayahuasca vision
above nazca plains
monkey & spider

I find this tidbit savory. It reminds me to invoke something ancient and/or Mesoamerican in my own work. The Nazca creations are a tad south of there, of course. They are both grand and intimate, despite their enormity; they evince natural forms in daily life, writ large as for gods to enjoy.

[gypsyjoker]

It is reputed that those who consume this vine of the souls are bestowed with the ability to commune with spirits, diagnose illness, treat disease, and even predict the future. While the existence of this vine is certainly no big secret, it is only recently that western science has decided to study the magical properties of this sacred medicine.

http://www.biopark.org/peru/kidder-vine.html


just a googling fool tonight,

spiderwoman loves monkeys
she slips into my dreams
with a painless bite
she feeds me sweet poison
But poor girl, it was not deadly enough
Better I had died that night.

[alienpoet]

Whenever i die i go to the moon and paint with my tongue and my

toes. I bathe in the colors and the illusions of a leaking brain.

Often returning to Earth with migraines of ballistic intensity

followed by deep sensual obsessive compulsions .

My screaming shakes up the world and destiny begins to unfold.