Tag Archives: dream

There is this dream I have…

This dream I have, begins and ends in a building.
Just me and five other men who are all now dead.
All inspirations to me but stuck doing the same job as I do.

There is Ginsberg,
Stroking his cock and balls
Explaining the benefits of enrolling.

There is Poe,
All dark and Goth
Refusing to call people because his crying will stop, nevermore.

There is Kerouac,
The ringleader even here
Smoking his joints, writing from memory and not fucking caring.

There is Thompson,
Feverishly writing
Chronicling every detail somewhat drunk-mostly tripping.

There is Bukowski,
looking like shit-drunk and lonely-
fucking some broad at his desk, groaning not talking.
Then there is me
Trying to work
But utterly failing with this cacophony so damn deafening.

This Dream I have, I think it’s telling me something.
These 5 men are sending me subliminal frequencies.
But that’s a secret that I wont let out here.

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July 4th

As I sit here watching the infant summer waxing and waning simultaneously the wind jostles the small white caps into dancing foam upon the stark contrast of the dark blue water.

As I sit here, thinking of what is past and what is to come, the wind jostles about the electric green grass to long for a public space and these thoughts to short to be record here through my mind like invisible things do through a strainer.

As I sit here, I’m completely disoriented. Out of space and out of time. A cacophony of moments waving and winding before me in endless mind-eye made film negatives, cutting and splicing from what I have imagined and what I have seen through historic document.

As I sit here, disappearing into this small moment in the blissful now and the thoughtful mindlessness, the wind jostles the blood red, pure white, legal blue and shining yellow stars into a fitful cacophony of flapping patriotic surrealism.

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These Lines are a Poem of Single Line Poems (and notes)

For a week, I’ve dreamed the phrase “my teeth fell out, like ivory typewriter keys,” waking and throwing my numb limbs at my face frantically searching and frantically finding.

what a relief

I think listening to He Has Left Us Alone but Shafts of Light Sometimes Grace the Corner of Our Rooms doesn’t make you a better anything, just maybe appreciative.

Don’t repeat lines I’ve said to you, trying to get me back on board the ship.

About Me: I’m not the biggest fan of dreadlocks or hula hooping.

Should I keep a notebook for this or just try and remember them?

Step One: Proving the Power of Myth – Establishing Your Very Own Myth.

He said, “well, ya really gotta get yourself published.” I said, “Oh?” Pretending like that was news.

And on the second day, we met Mountain, his sister Moon and brother Sun.

Everyone’s walking by like they actually have someplace to go.

I’ll write a longer one sooner or later.

“Life is a pity. Close the book, go on.”

I’m pretending.

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Refrigerator Magnet Poems: 9

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by | May 1, 2013 · 12:47 pm

HUNTER S. THOMPSON DREAM March 26, 2012

hunter-s-thompson1

I have a theory that the truth is never told during the nine-to-five hours. -Hunter S. Thompson

It begins out with 4 of us. On a Train. It is modern times but noting feels modern. We are lost in the country somewhere in Thompson, Connecticut. Continue reading

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It Was Right

Ever wonder what occurred in the other world when you took that left road to get to here? Wait, here?
Ever wonder if you should have said left, instead of ‘Yes, a right. This right.’
When that taxi cab driver in Jersey asked ever so sweetly, with his California sunglasses on, on that dreary Wednesday afternoon in the month of March.
You’re there now.
You have the fastest car in the game.
Are you using it to your full advantage this time around the block?
You were right.
Right about your right.

Turn.

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To Dream

To dream, you don’t need to be asleep.
To dream, one doesn’t have to be weak.
To dream, all you need is a will of fire
To dream, all you need is a motive.
To dream, all you need is the action to follow it through.
We all stumble on our path, there is no haste required.
All you need is a dream…

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Filed under cireryohei