Murdering Dreams
When no one is looking
I count the steps
in front of my house
no reason apparent.
I linger in front of photographs
that resemble you
and I allow
cruelly
the contrast
between you
and my present life.
Disappointment
is harder to bare sometimes
in real life
catapulting us
to alternative realities
concocted by our mourning minds
which seek those media dreams
of the perfect life
of escape from the flesh and blood realities
surrounding us
introducing to us
dripping disappointments
in self, others and family.
How guilt-dripping is this dynamic
where reality is seen to be
cruelly oppressive
compared to those media visions
concocted for us
by movies and tv.
Murdering false dreams
is what, therefore, the children
must do
in order to grow up
and become part of humanity.
Otherwise
a grieving shadow
that seeks that happily ever after
becomes a mind dripping
of false realities.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Related quotes
On Purpose
I see the blood dripping down my arm.
Red liquid in a running line
I smell the blood dripping down my arm.
Irony and salty
I hear the blood dripping down my arm.
Making splashes as drops hit the floor
I taste the blood dripping down my arm.
Mineraly and smooth
I feel the blood dripping down my arm.
A tickle covering immense pain
Because I cut myself
On purpose
poem by Kylee Bartz
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Realities
Many fears,
Many tears,
Many years,
Many wears;
It's all about life when,
One faces the realities.
Birth, school, work and death;
The realities of life to keep on growing,
There is no hiding place from here.
The muse of a Bard,
The ink of a Writer,
The brush of an Artist;
To face the realities of life like,
The teacher and the student.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Dripping Water
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the horizon of heaven,
on the land, on the sand,
makes me happy, and so elated,
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the dark black clouds,
on the leaves, on the tress,
gives them a slow quick bath,
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the thunderstruck light,
on the eyes, on the cheeks,
makes everyone to turn the face up!
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the beauty of sky,
onthe mud, on the rivers,
makes musical splashes when gets strike,
Dripping water, dripping water,
everywhere!
from the love of vast scream,
to the beautiful murmors of land,
makes me sing, and dance.
poem by Tayyeba Mustafa
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The world is seldom what it seems; to man, who dimly sees, realities appear as dreams, and dreams realities.
quote by Samuel Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O reason, reason, abstract phantom of the waking state, I had already expelled you from my dreams, now I have reached a point where those dreams are about to become fused with apparent realities: now there is only room here for myself.
quote by Louis Aragon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Life’s Realities
Realities of life are hard to take check,
When sadness comes as their accompaniment;
Sometimes, they seem to catch our very neck,
Defying balms and soothening liniment.
No wine or drugs or women can free you,
From life’s realities you encounter;
No thinking hard can give solutions too;
Problems will come just like a game-hunter.
No hiding helps in burrows like rodents;
By climbing trees, you can’t escape for long;
And dangerous is residing inside tents;
Some day, you’ll hear quite loud the mighty gong!
Realities are to be faced outright;
Prefer always the day, never the night.
6-9-2001
poem by John Celes
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No Matter Where You Look, You Always Find Something
at the start you find things with your hand
the baby that grabs whatever and takes it to his mouth
we begin that way
always
then we are fed up with our hands
we begin to take things with our minds
we read and we make the immovable move
we imagine
we stretch our minds that far enough
until we bleed
it is not the usual blood that we see dripping
it is not thick and red at all
it is the dripping of pain
our hands have become failures
our minds are shortcomings
our feet drag and stamp and wanting to go
we look for something that we do not know
we have this premise
when we knock the door shall be opened
when we ask so we shall receive
when we seek soon shall we find
we found something in the flesh
and we feel so disappointed
we try to find something for our soul
and we feel this despair
cramped in the room
we think some more on that premise
seek, seek, and seek
perhaps we shall find......
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Honey
Should i say 'yes' or, should i say 'no' to your love?
For there are more questions bordering me and,
I have my beauty at stake as well.
Do express your feelings when you do love me,
For we are made together for a reason on this love;
And you are free with your mind to infer on my love.
Keep the honey dripping when you are the honest person next door,
For the mirror of your life is all about the reflections on your face;
And let your emotional intimacy guide you on.
Keep the honey dripping, keep the honey dripping!
For it is the sign of your love towards me and,
I will be ready to answer to your call.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Encouraged To Lie
Making it all up,
As they go along.
Most children do that.
Pre-fabricating,
With undeniable excitement.
Whether in the telling of their stories.
Or, In the singing of their songs.
And we listen to them.
Telling them how important it is,
To use their imaginations as gifts given.
With lessons we teach...
How significant it is to expand one's mind.
Some children do grow,
And break free from this practice.
Knowing when for them a reality begins.
And when an adolescence for them ends.
Some children do leave their immaturities behind.
Others remain to embellish their entire existences.
Confusing the difference between right and wrong,
In the telling of their stories.
Whether or not they are sung in songs.
And convincingly deceive to have others believe.
From dawn until night lingers on.
With a kept belief.
That their realities created,
Should not leave anyone upset.
Especially if their imagined realities,
Have brought a benefit that many later regret.
And the ones not understanding with a comprehension,
Are those who all their lives.
Have been encouraged to lie.
And in their minds they see no reason why,
This should not have been left to go on existing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Solo Poets Society
Every one is highly possible to be a poet!
let's sing a song of John Lenon's 'Imagine'
A poet is a soloist who sings the song of freedom and equality
Which make the humanity condo of spacial independence
Who denies contemporary ego of socio-economic metaphors
Alone, not loneliness
No freudian repression and castration from pounded dimensions of life conditions
Solo poets society
An intellectual and aesthetic energy of the 21st century world order and chaotic representation dissolving into rummaging capability of truths, realities, wisdom and archeological and architectural visions.
This is a society of independent space and time transcending truths realities and actualities in quotidian life moments.
Reality's Dream
I staggered back from the blow;
Reality struck me again
this time harder
mocking me as I fell.
'You have always been so clear about
your plans and goals haven't you;
clear about what you wanted to achieve or know
how you would overcome all obstacles
but Pilgrim you had no plan B;
I always grant people like you
first place in my line
because you all are Prisoners Of Your Own Dreams and Schemes
hurtling through life 'Dreamers of the Impossible Dream'
Perfection's Confection blinds you by its own light-
wouldn't you agree? '
I gradually regained my feet and
stared into those unforgiving, taunting eyes
thinking strangely
that Reality is much like a bully.
'And hear you are now, ' Reality was saying
'alone
without family or friends
clutching to those dreams
which will never come true
being instead
here now
my prisoner
for all eternity
forced now to worship
at my altar.
He cackled a horrible cackle.
I looked at him in a haze
realizing he had a point
but too
that moment
exposed Reality's
own weaknesses:
he was counting upon my apathy-
my sense of defeat-
to make me surrender to him
believe in him and his power.
I rose
stared at him
declaring
'You've miscalculated
I have not given up
true I am wiser now
better now
therefore can move once again
toward the light
You Reality, I now clearly see
depend entirely upon my belief
that you determine everything
all things and my life too
but this is not true
now I see.
You count on my apathy don't you;
my resignation, don't you? '
Reality's eyes grew wide
reflecting,
I could see
his own sense of impending
defeat.
I had discovered Reality's own weakness;
his power existed
only in my belief in him
and my willingness to concede
to him control over my life.
'If I take away my own belief in you' I heard my self say
'in you and your power
you Reality have no power, that is what I think, '
I said
as I began to move straight toward him
invigorated by my new powerful realizations.
Reality cried out, blanched, now fearful
because with each new non-believer
he himself faded a bit more
closer to his own death, revealing
to the dreamer
than in the case of Realities
there are always more than one.
He stepped aside
glaring at me
because he knew
that he had lost another one.
'Some of us'
I said passing by
'come to realize
that you Reality are not to be defeated
but ignored
that today's Reality
does not determine
who one is
or can be;
that
Reality has many forms
and what form it is
is whatever
the Dreamer
dreams it to be;
new realities form
as old ones like you
become dead and done.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Blood Stained Shoes
Here I stand with beating heart,
Laid bare and bleeding in outstretched hands.
Take it please. I don't want it any more.
I've ripped it out, removed the aching part,
I don't know how else I might find peace.
While you are in such deep distress.
But my sorrow grants not your happiness,
In fact my grief may hinder it.
So why do I stand here, heart in my hands,
Dripping blood onto my shoes?
If I find my happiness, might it encourage yours?
But here I stand foolishly, blood staining my shoes.
I'm desperate to detour your destructive path.
And in my mind, hold a photograph, of what I want for you.
Abrupt insight allows me to see, you have visions of your own.
And I recognize, I can't achieve, even what I've envisioned for me.
So how, oh how, can I unshackle you?
How can I think there is anything I can do?
I fear it's time to let go, to trust, your life is between God & you.
I can't surrender, cannot resign. I always will be near.
I must let go, & learn to know, your life is yours I can't control,
You alone can find your niche and I must find mine too.
My happiness, my peace, my liberty,
Like yours, is between my God and me,
But take my throbbing heart I plead, it really belongs to you.
It will comfort to me, and I believe, it will be safe with you.
My mind and soul are all I need to carry me on through.
Besides while I stand holding it here, it keeps dripping on my shoes.
You take it, mercifully. Your footsteps fade, you navigate your way.
Following, surely please, in The King's footprints, I pray.
And I turn to see where my Lord leads me.
What works I should do, where I should be,
I search the horizon for my own fulfillment, for my tranquility,
I pray I find my road and plan, and I pray you find yours too.
We'll encounter again when the time is right, I anticipate that day.
We'll be well & content, it must be so, I can't accept any other way.
But until you are healed, your heart renewed, MY heart goes with you.
I seek my dreams with empty chest, & love & faith, in blood stained shoes.
poem by DonnaJ York
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Jumping Puddles
On a cool spring evening
saw cocooned young girl
skipping skipping skipping
while her mother’s blood
was dripping dripping dripping.
Not mashed
musky stench
stencil-plating
failure foetus
plastering out psyche
aberrant aborted spleen.
But razored edge
editing adult life.
Themes Of Domestic Violence!
See also ‘Spare The Rod’, ‘After Burn’ and ‘Male Myth Busters’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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My Dreams....
my dreams shall mend
what reality has forgotten like some kind of cells
lining up to fill a
wound,
they say sleepless nights are destructive
and kills
but it is the time for reality to keep up
and stabilize those that dreams
cannot make
and so the two are here
dreams and realities
they love us, and we keep going
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Window Forever, Nailed Shut!
wetness,
fallen leaves,
decaying....
the blood of
women and children
dripping to the
naked earth....
the tears of
the forgotten,
falling
like burning knives
on hollowed faces...
the distorted dreams
of the dreamless,
damp, and heady,
steaming the hungry
shameless void...
the electric singing juices
of my sweet madness,
filling your mouth,
your devouring wetness....
dripping,
falling,
steaming,
like slow peels of thunder
to the bare floor....
the window forever,
nailed shut!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Eye sea visions
Eye sea visions
Turning into shadow
Disappearing with the dark nights,
Eye sea visions
Walking in my dreams
Pushing to join realities
Then eye fold my hands and wait.
Eye sea visions
Smiling in the face of the moon,
Smelling like flowers of the Seasons
Whispering a psalmist eulogy
Then, eye close my eyes and anticipate!
Eye sea visions
And eye feel irritated, as eye begin
To lament deceptions,
Intuition envelops me… as
Eye wonder the genuineness of this
Visions eye see.
©1997
poem by Akachukwu Chukwuemeka
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To Handpick
You have spent most of your adult life
Disregarding advice
To prioritize the enjoyment of your escapades
With critque of those who slowly took steps
That aging gracefully benefits
With a seriousness.
Clinging onto youth betrays
In ways that fade away with quick fads
And today
You have awakened to play a game of catchup
Fast
With many who had been afraid to face realities
And those realities have never allowed anyone
To handpick
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Another Candle in the Wind
You were a star that never real got to shine.
That left a little star behind.
Your life was a roller coaster ride.
And your beauty in front of the camera the real you the camera did hide.
A life filled with laughter and tears.
Now we will never know your dreams or your fears.
The media called you Anna Nicole but your real name was Vicki Lynn. Gone way to soon another candle on the wind.
O! Judges Of The World
O! Judges of the World,
The Guardians of peace,
Listen!
In the ablaze valley of Kashmir,
To the dripping trickling of blood.
O! Judges of the World,
The Guardians of peace,
The breathers in the spheres of liberty,
Realize you the human rights,
And fix no limit of cruelty,
In Kashmir who inflict atrocity.
Now our houses remain or not,
Our heads, the bodies retain or not,
We will utter the word “Freedom”,
We will snatch the right “Freedom”.
O! Judges of the World,
The Guardians of peace,
Listen!
In the ablaze valley of Kashmir,
To the dripping trickling of blood.
The sons died tossingly in front of mothers,
The sisters’ shawls ragged in front of brothers,
Coated in blood is each leave and plant,
Each grain of Kashmir now does chant,
Listen to the Freedom’s band,
Look to the loyalty of the land.
O! Judges of the World,
The Guardians of peace,
Listen!
In the ablaze valley of Kashmir,
To the dripping trickling of blood.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Sweet Dreams
Sweet dreams are made of many things
The different thoughts that we constantly think
The very things that that lie in our fantasies
And create a thought that's tenaciously sweet
That we savor so much while soundly asleep
Things that can only happen in dreams
My sweet dreams are made of you
The perfect moments and the perfect gloom
The perfect place and the perfect dream
But whatever could be more perfect than you?
Is only what I can conjure in my sleep
Life is a reality and dreams are the opposite
It's the time we find peace from every worry
It's a place where every story has a happy ending
It's a place where every person has a chance to be happy
It's a place where you and I have a happy ending
A cradle song before we sleep
And escape the grimes of reality
And the things that keep you away from me
Life is a reality and dreams are the opposite
Dreams are the sweetest and life is life
In my dreams you and I are happy
But in reality... life is life.
Sweet dreams are made of many things
And mine are made of you
poem by Hafeni Nghidinua
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