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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1310947
Shaded dreams... my mind, as if on washboard scrubbed, in the early morning night.
Surrealistic REM


Visions as flat stones
skip, unobstructed, 'cross lazy rolling river
like intrusive slumber steals a riotous night.
Fits of pleading.

Red eyes hot glow
peer through a darkened window.
Eerily they hover
'bove the head of another... and looking down.
Chilly in a young boys heart.

Convulsions twinkle in a close'd eye
as drowning them in seas of brown--
choking miry clay
gasping earthen breath of air
beneath a place of headstones lay.

Between the markers walking wake
never ending yellow day.
Voices ashen gold absurd
imposing, stretch they forth to reach
unreachable ears in screams.

Escalated respiration
dry mouth tasting perspiration
frenzied movements flailing arms
in fear and tears and panic call
through silent chaffe'd lips of dust.

Cry! Cry! Awake! And cry.
Nightshades drawn
to pleasant dreams and want
where muffled sobs eternal sound,
nearly distant through till dawn.


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