Sometimes dreams are hard to conceive
The subconscious becomes regulated.

Cerebral nerves tighten.
Once my eyes begin to dart about in my brain,
I yearn to get back to my community,
To go back to the places
Where I am most high.

I need to get back to the French cafe.
Violet neon lights
Beaming from walls and ceilings.
Parisian pastry chefs serving delicacies.
Waitresses in blue uniforms taking orders.
The room is black,
Yet the sight of my creme brulee
Illuminates the restaurant
And all is rich.

I'd like to once again
Look into a pond
And witness colors vibrate
As singer/songwriters from the 70's
Manipulate ripples in the water.
The pond has a surreal feel
There's often an oracle
That sends prophecies through bubbles
And foreshadows events in our novels.

The living room with all of my friends
Celebrating my birthday
Was a pleasant place to be.
Often times,
I'm able to tell
The strength of a bond
Based on the strength of an embrace.
For once,
Nobody disappointed me
With limp arms
And petrified shoulders.
I lock lips with a busty blond
In a far corner of the room.
That too is full of passion.

Stars in the park
Always inspire.
Gentle breezes enclosing leaves and branches.
A friend by my side.
Words to share.
Thoughts to meditate upon.
An omnipotent moon
Guiding us through the darkness.

I often dream of communities,
Creative people joined together
In one setting.
Artists and scientists
Bridging both sides of the mind.
Lovers of life
Prospering in each other's company,
Passing around a blend
Of peace, love, and light
Within an imaginative cipher.

There have been good times
That were purely subjective.
There was that time
With the Peanuts gang
Where we tripped out on magic mushrooms.
Lucy Van Pelt in the sky with diamonds.
She stood in front of her class
During show and tell
And brought out her stash.
She personified one of them
Originally calling it Mr. Mushroom.
It came to life
Singing its theme song
Sung to the tune of Ren and Stimpy's
"Happy Happy Joy Joy."
At this point,
We were all astral projecting ourselves
Into a spectral field in the cosmos.

I've encountered John Lennon on a few occasions
Although I've had some strange encounters
With the music he composes.
They sound familiar,
But I can never quite make them out.
The songs just seem to blend in
With one another.
Sometimes,
I see him as an angel of death,
A man who signals the untimely passing
Sometimes through natural causes.
Other times through contrived occurrences.
Every time I dream of this musical messiah
Someone passes on
Into a new dimension
Of the life cycle.

But then I drop back to Earth
And feel my brain restrained
Within a heavy duty rope
With locks tied on the ends.
I attempt to break through the mental bondage
That hinders me so often.
I am just as captive in my visions
And worry that they might be premonitions.
This is why I am writing this poem,
To remind myself of the pleasantries
I used to imagine.
To remind me of the sundries
I used to taste often.
To remind myself of the maladies
I used to put aside
When entering a slumber.
With some meditations,
I can continue to envision
Hearts in candlelight
And children on the grass
And complete the osmosis
Beyond the miasma.

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others