Some Weird Dream

One time I was frying some food on a ship,
At the helm I saw an odd man with a big fat blue lip.

And he punched himself twice and thrice and some more,
Then he disappeared quickly and appeared then on shore.

But he changed all his color and his texture and skin,
And at once he was fat but then again thin.

And he was black at first now and white again later,
And then Indian soon and then turned alligator.

Then a rat came about and he ate all my food.
This then put me in some sort of sick foul sad mood.

Then the ship spun around and made some weird sound,
Off it headed without me to never be found.

So I walked on the water and drowned and ate fish,
And I met some crook genie who gave me no wish.

Then the texture of life was uncooked and unstewed,
And the fabric of time was quite off and unscrewed.

So I searched through all doors with some key made of bone,
But I never then somehow had left my own home.

My peacock flew by me and gave me a kiss,
With his feathers and chains and his chainsaw just missed.

Floating again on that old pirate isle,
I knew all was gone but still gave it a smile,

When the words and the color and the trees dyed in blue,
Came wrapped around round me and in words that I knew.

Then that old high school crush was there just for fun,
And we did all the things that we never had done.

With a song and a dance and a reindeer’s last prance,
I flashed with my camera in that second last chance.

Next the skeleton came flying and dying at once,
And I died from his scepter just right before brunch.

For the brunch was made oft then of mice and some liver
With a small dude on the back seat that made his jaw quiver.

That man cried and blamed me for the things I knew not,
So my head just turned into some metal glass pot,

With which I stewed all my thoughts and I drank them all too,
Like some liquor of hate that the shoemakers knew.

Then I flew and I danced and I crashed and I dared,
And I beat up the sun and some new solar flare;

The flare made of gas and molten and tarts,
And a dying old ember showed that queen of my heart.

With that colors yelled at me and cursed and then lied,
But somehow I kept reeling alive on the inside.

And I punched at thin air where that space was so fair,
In a place with a lady whose nose was not there.

With beggars and princes and stones made of lilies,
Was there in this time filled with other hillbillies.

Then space and my thought though it wasn’t a pot,
Became quite distorted like the way things are not.

But the floating was nice and the catching of jars,
Or seeing thousands of men with huge tiny crow bars.

Last the star in my mind and the star in my eye,
Took all of existence and again I did die.

I awoke quite alive after that strange array,
And I went on and faced all things then that day.

Because I was dead just plain dead it surely did seem,
But I’ll always remember it was just some weird dream.

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Comments are closed.