every night I have psychedelic dreams

[saw]

gateways
open .....close
glimpses of laconic light
fresh acid to the core.....arcane angles

prosaic protraction
clandestine cinema
enigmatic electronic elevators
tones of tomorrowland ....no more muzak !

another door....another room
humming holograms humping,
esoteric entries
obscure overlays of cryptic chiffon

my dreams....too much
I see things, hear things....jigsaw jazz
faces.....words.....mysteries.....familiarity
altercations with alliteration

my real life

seems boring in the morning
there is no comparisons to draw from
I live in two different worlds, and I must say
I enjoy them both....despite these mornings

all aglow ......from a nighttime visitor
the dialogue....fresh brewed Colombian
I've marked like lipstick on the collar
my nostrils full of perfume and Fleetwood Mac

I can no longer hear them
but i think I smell the beauty,
the sweet sweet beauty.....
can someone please tell me what it's like



https://www.google.com/search?q=dreams+ ... e&ie=UTF-8

[creativesoul]

Warmth seems to come
To my body while
My face is content
Flying through
The many doorways

Then it’s as if water carrying me
Accross the place I went before

The sensation is one of harmony

Light flickers like fireflies on my eyelids

[creativesoul]

Nice write

[mnaz]

Nice write.
Poetry avoids prosaic protraction.
I like that about poetry, and I follow
the arcane angles of laconic light,
where is light? can you glimpse it?
jigsaw jazz, and No More Muzak!

[mtmynd]

indeed those psychedelic dreams which infer that which mind creates
whilst reality drums it's fingertips awaiting the next ship passing,
to hop aboard and coast down the Rivera's one golden coast not twisted,
for a reality which only gave hope to the hopelessness of desire now twisting
in the silent winds of earth spinning but yet another Tuscany tune to decadence...

awaken! awaken! the Now is the home of Being where duality no longer exists
capped like vintage wine stored in darkened tunnels to be uncorked when time permits.

{enjoyed your piece, Steve... thanks for the inspiration to bolt from fingertips, part 2}

[saw]

there are a few that liked to call me Little Stevie Wonder
way back when in the day when Fingertips pt. 2 was recorded
and those same folks would always add, Wonder what the Hell He's Gonna Do Next

thanx for the delightfully poetic responses