Standstill Muse


oh the bounds of inspiration that bloom out of the depths of despair

moving by volition 

bursting at the seems with a plurality of contradictions

the fall air rolls down my spin as the moonlight drains into my eyes

i am struck with an epiphany of life light and love

blindsided by a symphony of thoughts stars and peace

the standstill muse has found me again got my mind and my hearin a sea of gridlock

i am overwhelmed with dreams but my low self-esteem has ravaged my hopes i just scavenge the tropes that once fell in line

all the movement inside 

but  

i am stuck

lost in your eyes

Dream Beyond 2017

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A New Perspective for dreams


I dreamed a dream,

That I would live,

I would love,

I would laugh,

And I would die. 

 

 

I dreamed a dream,

One full of adventures,

One with milestones galore,

One that is everything I can imagine,

Too much would lie in store. 

 

But my dream,

Didn’t seem to work out. 

  

I lived a life,

Of hard fought battles,

Of the darkest of times,

Of painful hours,

Of an impossible climb. 

 

Just because I can’t beat it,

Doesn’t mean I cannot dream. 

 

Just because I’ve become a victim,

Doesn’t mean I’ve lost my steam. 

Take my body, take my rights,

But you can never take my mind,

I’ll get a new perspective,

One that still leads me to the sky. 

I’ll never give up hope,

You cannot stop me, I’ll fly

So as my wings come and I take flight,

Please,

Don’t cry.

Copyright Dream Beyond 2017

Serendipitous Symphonies


Splendid speeches spool slowly from the locked away mind

Our distanced hopes and dreams this world would never wish us to find

Sincere songs of souls and sweet goodbyes

Every dream a snipet

Each thought a line

Together

Intended to enchant the divine

A symphony of people and places across time

A message of serendipity

Of fullness

To thrive

Each piece a measure

Of all of our lives. 

Copyright Dream Beyond 2017

One Mississippi…

The pitch black nights are the hours filled will the most vibrant and outstanding objects. 

The bleakest morning are those that encompass the pinnacles of excitement.

The most painful moments are the ones laden with the deepest volumes of beauty. 

Each passing day, each shifting hour, each itching moment,

…One Mississippi…

…Take a deep breath…

…Pause a moment and take in what is around you…

Everything,

Everywhere,

Surrounding your soul.

The only reason nights lack light, a lack of presence of observed by your eyes,

The singular logic for mornings having bleakness and a sense of loneliness,

The one way the most hurting times of life mature into something beautiful…

Nothing is as it seems.

Or as they appear to be. 

Stop looking at the surface,

Start looking beneath.

Halt yourself from making assumptions,

Begin to make observations. 

…Two Mississippi…

…Exhale deeply…

…Go back to the one thing in your surrounding that caught your eye…

It’s a perception issue,

A delay in deduction,

A misfire in interpretation.

Alas, freeze your frame,

Put a moratorium on those thoughts,

So much as to the venture of thinking in which you were progressing. 

…three Mississippi…

The end lies here. 

You’ve tracked a path all the way to here. 

Where is here?

Exactly.

That reason, 

For darkness, bleakness, pain…

Life, in its most simple attributes,

Is a series of moments strung together in a narrative that we label as our own. 

Each picture, each pause, 

Is a blank canvas,

Leaving you to make beauty out of everything.

That my fellow dreamer is the magnitude of dreaming. 

Don’t leave your symphonies, your novels, without embellishing them,

Without making them your own. 

You are the dreamer, the architect, the perpetrator of innovations in this awe inspiring play.

Your dreams are your paintbrush,

Now is your time to make those lines. 

Copyright Dream Beyond 2017

Dreaming on the Horizon


Upon the lines this world has drawn,

Light lies licking the blooming morning sky.

I am able to see for miles and miles in every direction,

But every plane of vision stops at the line.

Not too long ago the world ended at those edges,

Pieces of a box we all once lived in.

Confined humanity to the reaches of the eyes,

Not believing in the reaches of the mind.

Dreams, they exude up and out, 

Sink and rise, flutter and fly.

Skip across the waters,

Somersault every mountain,

Traverse devastating deserts,

Conquer crippling tundras.

No horizon can hold back dreams.

No prison can suppress,

Let not our thoughts depress,

Or this world bring duress,

To the ravishing creations we design.

We are the architect of not just our future, but the past and the present too.

Live your life through dreams,

And live on the horizons,

Free. 

Copyright Dream Beyond 2017

Drowning in Dreams


Step. Step. 

Tip. Toe

Each one closer, closer, to the end of the dock. 

Just wait till the big step comes at last, I’m sent hurdling, reeling,

I make a splash. Oh what a spectacle, a sight to see, 

I’m flailing, I’m struggling, I cannot get free! 

I’m below the surface, submerged, immersed, I’ve lost the dock, 

I’ve descended into darkness, what could be lurking near, which way is up? 

They are crowded around me, like moths drawn to the only lamp in a desolate field, not a gap to be seen, 

I’m drowning in mayhem, a skyscraper of aspirations collapsing and covering me with debris, suffocating in dreams. 

I’ve found my rest at the bottom, amoung the discarded items, lost memories, all in the bleak unending dark, 

Just another sunken treasure, an enchanting post card never delivered, lost at sea, lost at heart.

The air disperses, it turns and bends, it seeps from the cracks that lie in my fragile bones. 

I’m without words to comfort, or methods to transport them with tones. 

Here I lay, wrecked at last. 

The madness caught up with me, I possess only the distinct lack of anything but a continuous state of lacking itself. 

Weighted down by the very thing I cry to express, only by that which I sought to herald to the masses,

Dreams come alive every moment of the day, but to no avail,

Just escape from me like precious word of life departing in time, as bubbles of air leaving my lungs. 

Creation not tended to or nurtured is a disastrous crime. 

So I’ve come upon my sentence, 

The punishment, 

The ruin. 

Copyright Dream Beyond 2017