Dream #1

#X.

Feeling pretty good, sitting in my mind,
humming like bob dylan in a dream
pink ocean blues, subside
behind my shoulders, contentment
energy of the day, submission
teasing, pleasing, wheezing,
my old man pulls it out of his pants
six weeks of shamrocks picked
along the lonely road i drive
every day for twenty two years
work, work, to work.

Sitting on a hillside, dreaming
that music notes, float to my ears.
drunken babes sit so not to spin.
The sinking sun, the river deep
below, brings a pretty breeze.
A floating smell of pot, emphasizes
the pounding of the drums, the
goddess, the muse.

We turn up the stereo, windows
down, crusing along number eight.
adrenalin, high, rock does this
to me. Stairway to Heaven
spins a magic spell. Talk
of goblins, with shiny hair,
mounted on the princess
fairy tale with a great pair.
I light a joint, inhaling to prepare.
Dylan Thomas sitting in the back
says lets get there so we can light
a couple, and wait in line for a beer.

chadwick

that's some pretty wild stuff goin on here in this one
i like it
thank you for sharing

btw, where you been?
when i saw the big x
i was like.... wait a minute
i know that x

how you been?

#X.

It's nice hearing from you also.
I did browse through the poems
looking for you. It's crazy,
cause it's a dream! So how
are you and rock n' roll doing?
Say hello to your mom. #X.