Where is my absurd little coffee this morn Claiming to be something or other I rise slower, wiping Pixie Dust from my eyes Never forget the dreams they try to smother My gorgeous blonde lady sleeping peacefully Our love burnt brightly into a passionate fire I stretch my legs & smile at a job well done She’ll slumber for a while, for she’s kind of tired
True to life, but hard to digest the pain
Adversity compounded living without rest
Altered dreams when slumbers can’t remain
Been ages since she authentically felt her best
There’s magic in knowing the soul you cannot live without Is more precious than anything in front of you The inability to cease from a scream or shout
The seas have parted Allowing visions to reach us within earshot You can only see the beauty of a cherished soul Neither are we perfect, but we’re all we’ve got
Translucence when we slumber Taken away to the shores of our dreams The impossible comfort of paradise Allowing for beliefs to be more than they seem
Dark clouds forming over the horizon Storms threaten to assuredly comply A day drifting away without recourse Dreams hang-dogged in the evening sky
The slow buildup to another slumber I tried to be reasonable, but I think too deep Took a leap, but might’ve been too far In the end, relegated to remaining the black sheep
Liberation granted by the morning alarm
Still alive; this body aching with rippling fatigue
October visions, yet I’m safe from obvious harm
Visions dwindling; remnants of horrific intrigue
Seeking out coffee to loosen this slumber
A stretch & chance to deliberately mourn
These dreams encrusted in burnt umber
Sworn to abide by the wisdom of Nat Hawthorn
The terror that befalls us when we’re unaware
Soon free from the slow tolling of the funeral bell
Needful sleep caught us within a nightmare
Unconsciously breaking from a manufactured hell
Visions of dropping acid with William Blake
Dawn is our escape; returning to peace as we wake
Telling stories after dark Occasionally with Tom Waits in the lead Fantastical little allegories Bringing a light to those souls in need
No need to whisper in the shadows Luminous words to prepare the way Removing barriers to our enlightenment Witticisms fleshed out & on display
Short tales to get creative juices flowing Harking back to dreams that we might meet Subtle differences between the pauses Allowing our imaginations to properly greet
Scenes from our own round table Foreplay within our cheeky banter Conjuring visions of a keen passion Diluted memories at the bottom of our decanter
Bad behavior leads to a more examined life Though through fiction we can live eternal A little more sensitive than you want to believe Yearning to be held by a beautiful dame so maternal
Out here with our hearts raised to the sky Searching for better answers on the midnight shore With the freedom to imagine wisdom laid bare Parsed theories for when we sent them off to war
Subtle manipulation within our romantic esthetics Unreliable narrators marching; our literary brigade There’s no vernacular for hearts’ folly Pushing forth our gentle notion love might persuade
In the end, dear friends, our parable is contrite In this heinous world, we all have a simple choice I lay myself to slumber, a fatigued sailor Wishing for a lullaby coming from Nick Cave’s voice
Falling in love every morning
Reminders of the Lord’s perfect grace
A partner in this shared existence
Let me look upon your slumbering face
Slipping from the warmth of our bed
To chronicle the inspiration found in the night
Regeneration of unbridled passion
Earnestly dedicating these words that I now write