Tuesday, 26 February 2013
Dreams I Barely Remember.
Sleep, that friendly darkness,
that reality in escape,
brought me many places without fare,
Made me at ease, bade me lie down
with the fox the badger and the hare.
On a Tuesday night at ten
I climbed the Eiffel Tower
and with one spring of boundless power
I lit he torch of the Lady in Liberty's Bay
without flame or taper,
just a glint from rainbows ray.
I met my mother one trip,
she told me a dirty joke;
I chastised her there and then,
she, who never in life
a vulgar word spoke.
I rode a wooden horse twice
round the Derby test
and got there first in record time
waited for the rest
who must have lost their way
at Epsom Downs that day.
I asked a wizard to tell me
the texture and taste of swan
He told it was poison unless
shot in the back of the neck by a
bullet out of the mouth of a gun
that had never killed before.
I aimed my pea shooter at the moon,
the ricochet felled the brave bird
feathers flying aft and fore.
She landed both plucked and trussed
and roasted on Vesuvius spit
Moses and I broke the wishbone
It wasn't a one-sided split.
One night in a fit of pique
I dipped my straw in the Red Sea
and supped and watered the Kalahari
and sang “what will be, will be”.
On another occasion I rambled buck naked
into a party on Capitol Hill,
Michelle was scarlet, mortified,
Barrack is glaring still.
With big red cabbage leaves
I have played 'she loves me, she loves me not'
I can only hope and pray to remember
the millions of dreams I forgot.