Tag: dream

Garden of Eden

Best Served With: Lighthouse by Patrick Watson

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R23bifAbWWs

Image result for garden of eden

Image result for garden of eden

Imagine a rose to that gardener,

As he preens and sheens day and night,

She blooms in harsh and fair weather,

And glows in the darkest of light,

Captivating him completely,

Is there no justice left in sight?

For she defies his reality,

But deeply bears a careless spite.

O, how could he have known her stem?

When she herself was left unsure?

He gave his all for her reprieve

And naught but thorns did he endure.

 

He always thought you would leave, didn’t he?

But please don’t take this dream away from me.

 

Elano’s Notes

The Gardener metaphor continues…  Infatuation is a beautiful thing, it is the most vibrant part of love and often times feels like a tornado. It is surreal in that sense, and the object of your affection can do no wrong. But when that tornado dies down and life dishes out a reality-realizing slap, you may find yourself without that person. If that happens, you only have your memories with that person, memoirs of who they were to you, the dream of the love you shared together.

What do you think? Let me know in the comments.

After I Sleep…

Best Served: Fool for you by Snoh Aalegra

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i4st3FlEPQ0

Image result for dream-like landscapes

 

Fire and ice were born to mix,

To flirt as the flesh and the mind do,

An arrogant ant limps across the tired floor,

Without two legs, a wing and a mandible

It continues; shuddering in pain with every step,

Behind it, an excited thumb chases in ecstasy,

In front, its sugary paradise beckons,

 

It trudges on before…

SNAP, there goes a leg,

SNAP, another follows,

Whimpering as pain racks its body,

It will endure till its destination.

 

It slaps the ground with hurried steps,

But a gluttonous shadow looms over,

With its last strength it jumps,

And as the cautious air whistles in wonder,

Its beady eyes shrink in disbelief,

For its sugary paradise has vanished,

The cold floor hatefully heckles it

As an awkward landing seats reality,

 

Pain immediately crawls up its legs,

The looming shadow now oppressing the deck,

Crushing it without a chance to cry or beg,

In its eyes the paradise had become an icy mountain.

 

See the ant was not scared of its death,

That was inevitable.

It was terrified that the paradise it so struggled for,

Was unreachable.

 

Life is a child that plays with living toys,

He tortures and breaks them down to bring him joy,

No stopping or reasoning; no parent or envoy,

No ounce of understanding; just plain acting coy.

 

To him it’s a game, to us a despicable ploy,

So I ask you:

Is he a reckless God or an innocent little boy?

I Will Dream

Best Served: Fool for you by Snoh Aalegra

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i4st3FlEPQ0

Image result for dream-like landscapes

Babies are such curious beings,

That carry a strange power with them,

Helpless as a man in love,

Yet they never want for man or love.

 

They spit worms that pull out your hair,

And these worms are elongated tapes,

Brown and mushy pull a hard shell,

And in an angel’s harmony; they sing:

 

“You pull me closer though your teeth kiss,

My living Santa buys my wish list,

The truth is that you can’t resist this,

See I’m the shackle you chose to wear on instinct.

So,

At the junction of love and hate; we meet,

Nature and thought turned tear bare at the teat,

This feeling soaks quite deep in bittersweet,

But boast this love, it tastes more bitter– in truth– than it is sweet”.

 

They are so weak–

The little clouds of arrogance,

Can’t even wipe their ass,

Yet their cradle is a throne.

Some even worship them,

Making them the center of their life,

A writhing altar above their wife,

But on the skin of the temple

wails the child of strife.

 

You do realis—

Why are you kneeling?

Stand the fuck up,

Your knees are for money

sex and fleeting pleasures,

Your feet are to chase your butchered dreams,

Joseph runs on the barest of feet.

I know you are a clueless dreamer.

Delusion searching for the next big hook.

You ought to climb that icy mountain.

But all Hail the flesh’s faithful book.

 

So, here we are on a train to destiny,

Me, a successful nobody,

You, swaddling a contradiction.

You could have been famous,

Or a gangbanger or politician,

Or maybe something less scandalous,

You could have been warm and adventurous,

But as the setting sun casts amber shadows

That weave through the rough train window,

I see you are choked in shriveled fun

Trapped in a snow-covered sun

Rasping and gasping for torture’s turn.

Black picks a fire but blue burns.

 

The icy mountain chuckles at your insolence,

At your attempt to connect to the larger hive,

At the cultural gap between nappy hair and blue eyes.

At your forced laughs with statues you despise,

At the clay between your actions and your mind,

And all the little things that go bump in the night

When you take convenient chemicals that make you feel alive—

Drumming the needle; a doused reprise

Shrug off reality; dive into the tide

Rusted pendulums swing crouched highs into garbled cries.

 

And we could talk about sexless soldiers

Or how your friends are getting older

Or how Brexit fucked Theresa,

But you know yourself.

You don’t have that kind of time,

You’re busy chasing babies.

 

You know you’ll get off at the next stop,

Drop destiny for a baby sop,

To a job where you’ll never reach the top,

And when that’s done, you’ll go home,

Sit on the couch,

And sigh deeply between sips of scotch,

Lamenting your alight and stolen bliss,

Longing for a train that you can only reminisce,

 

That siren in the cradle is your antithesis,

Loud, raw, simple; free.

Its owner either your epitome or your nemesis.

It is everything you wish you could be.

 

You will not admit it,

For it makes your life a squandered fortune,

And death an honored guest,

So, you tell yourself:

 

I will never want for man or love,

I am not helpless as a man in love,

I am special, shan’t I chase my dreams?

After all, Babies are just curious beings.