the dream poet.ry

(a couple of separate, I enjoy how they came out)

The Dream Poem

Where we go to fly.

up in the cliffs

among the trees

on top of a rusty old house

built 3 stories tall

we pull on our feathered wings

strapped with leather to our backs

we step to the edge of the door way

leap out into the forest

and we fly.


As writers

we play at being GOD

like children in the sand

we create our own world

and who is to say

whether this world is real

or whether we are fake?


We are the bird watchers of the human nature.


There is a girl

who fell into the land

she became washed among the dirt

under-neath heavenly green trees

she fell in among the worms

and laughed against the sea

this girl fell from heaven,

fell from hell

and Nature set her free.


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