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Wes Rosenberger Jul 2016
Caffeine.
Shaky fingers attached
to quivering hands, steady themselves
on brick walls, paper, canvas, and skin.
Nicotine.
Reliable digits now detached
from a similar grasp. Without the stirring
lives of the artist, there is no life within.
Traces of muscle memory assist me again.
Feigned skill determined by the past,
and a pen.
Tranquiline.
Reality-defying, I'm aware to where my mind lies.
Without trying, you'll perceive it, and be on your way.
Underlying, a rare mind may use
hues to cry.
But the realist intellect knows
secrets deeper,
the mind of a dreamer,
and where to draw the line.
s u r r e a l Jun 2016
'mongst teddy bear shaped clouds,
and with friend whose eyes are as amber as honey sickles,
the sky melts sugar milk,
and whispers bubbles of candy cotton!
for the twilight knew much of the Wonderer.

with hopping rabbit bunnies,
and boxes with a fellow named jack inside,
the puppy-eyed child learned of many names,
and knew of many creatures--
O! have you heard of the bunna-easant?
the child would love of you to learn lots about it!

it seemed the Lord had blessed this young,
with naive heart and brave mind,
for you'd have to drink gallons of melted butter,
to be as sweet as he.

old nightmares beg for sips of the Wonderer's dove wings,
for the child knew of no such thing.
'what are mares of the night?' those eyes glistened toward the faeries,
with 3 sharp "ha"'s, they lean in and whisper,
'stay in your cradle, my young,' they'd wave their lolly finger,
'for there're no such things as those.'

for the white candy cotton was a favorite of the child,
same hue as the glowing deity he worshiped,
and brought the bouncing child through the embers of the day,
to hush the child to midnight play.

for time was awfully kind to this young,
as it pushes the child's golden swing,
following the young's silver eyes,
as they twitch with hunger,
at the appearance of the new critters it drew.

as cherry mermaids flicked the child through hearts of jelly,
and the fish from Stockholm 'plashed through chocolate lanes,
the Wonderer's taffy hair grew lengths,
and body took its outfit and changed!

the child basked--astonished!--and jumped from the tails,
leaving the mermaids and fish staring at one another,
with questionable marks and exclamatory minds,
'did we just lose our Wonderer?'

in shock, the deity's hair ruled short,
and no longer kissed the face of the 'Wonderer',
and bags filled blue light 'neath its eyes,
and rust reigned miles over the kingdom of orbs.

and the canvas had a streak of black,
'long its body,
and dried it lay,
unfinished of what was started.

for when the 'Wonderer' did decide to crawl 'neath silken shield,
and the deity's hair grew,
toss and turn, and turn and toss, the child did,
and the hair frizzled at tinted noon.

for in the Wonderer's brain,
an old horse awaits him,
with mane as black as goo,
and eyes as fierce as sandstorm,
the old horse awaits him,
and takes gallons from his wings.

and the teddy bear clouds turned to cotton,
and the fish melted by the amber,
and mermaids collapsed to bone,
and the golden gate said 'keep out, don't enter.'

for the bunna-easants had long since migrated,
and the sky turned a scared octopus,
for the candy bubbles had quieted,
and the child hung its youth.

but the Wonderer had long forgotten of his favorite candy,
and knew wonders of the mares of the night,
at cubic, he sits as blue light spills from bronzed eyes,
with the caffeine shots he jolts...


and the mares kiss him good-night.
We lose our little dreamer at some point...
Ignatius Hosiana Jun 2016
You have been my longest
and sweetest of all dreams...
*what's sad is someday
I'll have to wake up.
tl b Jun 2016
I have a headache from dreams clawing to break free.
WORD CHOWDER Jun 2016
I've my own dreams,
and my own desires.
Something for which I'm keen,
want to set the world on fire.
Emily Dolde May 2016
People always say that movies are just fiction.
People say that we shouldn’t listen to their messages.
But, those people don’t know of the feeling that fills me.
The feeling of Romeo and Juliet.
The feeling of butterflies taking flight in your stomach
For the very first time.
This surreal feeling swirls through my head
Even as I drift off into sleep.
Only awakened by the burning in my cheeks.
Quickly followed by the realization that my dreams
Were the only thing filling the other half of my bed.
Then the attempts to calm my restless thoughts
Only make my mind race faster.
Making it impossible to rejoin the calm sea of dreams
That cascaded through me;
Almost as if they were meant to be there.
I have no clue when I will be graced
With the presence of the one that makes these dreams occur.
The presence of the one that comforts me without trying.
The presence of the one that flew away
To a place that I once called home.
So, are movies really fiction?
If so, then I must be in a movie.
A movie full of love and sarcasm.
A movie that I will gladly star in.
Writer's block...
Little dreamer
Dream me a fountain
I'll throw the coins
And our wishes will come true

Little dreamer
Dream me the moon
My life is dark
When I'm not with you

Little dreamer
Dream me your love
I'll let you have mine
When your eyes are closed

Little dreamer
Dream me the world
And we'll make houses
Out of fairy tales

Little dreamer
Is dreaming all you can do?
Oh, little dreamer
Maybe I dreamt you
Joy May 2016
Starry eyed dreamer,
Why are you in the gutter?
It's time to come home.
May, 2016
brixton bell Apr 2016
i am every girl tonight,
lost amongst ***** bed sheets
& the like. we grow
in seasons, hoping
that the world hasn’t left us behind
just yet.

i am every woman tonight.
trembling alone in an empty room,
the sullen lamp
with it’s uneven lamp shade
declaring the secrets of
my empty being. i see us
faraway now, maybe next
to an ocean,
this crippled earth balancing
on her stone axis,
always in motion.
to dream of you here
is better than death.

i am every lover tonight,
the simple confessions of love
not enough anymore.
& always you, your pick in hand,
chipping away more by day
at such an enamel heart
as mine. Even the words
aren’t enough anymore,
& maybe they never will be.

i am every dreamer tonight.
the clock moves us forward
without our say at all.
i might be someone
you knew once before,
hanging bravely from a museum wall,
light years from where we
are now. My skin composed
of the richest oils,
you reached out, fingertips
to thick smudges & precise curves,
a believer in who i was.
an onlooker, just passing by
on his way
some where better.

i am every girl tonight.
calling for you to come back
to my arms, only knowing
i’ll find sleep alone again.
& can you feel me? i say
when i really do wonder sometimes.
such fair skin, ******* exposed
for no one but this ashtray
with too many secrets to tell.
each sentence forever unfinished.
exposed for no one
but my own reflection.

*All Rights Reserved © Brixton Bell
brixtonbell.com
Ambika Jois Apr 2016
I become the person I'm looking at
I envision their vision stat
I forget that I'm not them
I realize that they've won again
I'm just that one step behind
I've yet to convince my mind
I'm looking at my future self
But no, I'm not yet on my own shelf
I'm getting paranoid and obsessed
I can't see anything about me that could impress
I'm a particle of my own vision
I'm lost in my own transition
I'm fading out
I'm dissolving in my own doubts
I'm also fading in
To the start of a new ending
I become that person I'm looking at
I envision my own vision. Stat.
This is what it feels like to know you've always had this one dream, but you never could muster up the courage to exhaust all options to make it come true. This is what it feels like to be in the position to look at another, who's making it work, who makes it look like it's easy, effortless, with a massive smile on their face, sparkles in their eyes and a strong positive energy within their aura. This is what it feels like to know someone like that, whilst wishing you could've achieved your dream, just like they're achieving theirs. This is what it feels like to still have hope that you CAN achieve that dream, just like they have. This is what it looks like deep down, that until you've achieved that dream of yours, you do not feel complete.
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