Waking Up

Waking Up

Waking up from strange dreams
of which you were a resident
How long has it been since I've seen you?
or heard the melody that is our soundtrack?
the repetitive bass line and the dissidence of the midtones
My hope is running on empty
as we are separated by land and water
and you've become a unique figment of my imaginality
half real and the other half invented
like a poem - a machine of words
with purpose, driving the turbulent waters of my sleep
So that I get no rest
with each crashing wave, you wear me down
reshaping me more to your liking
The seawall crumbles under the pressure
as the bass line continues with notes that vibrate the bones
I whimper audibly half awake
and I buckle down in fetal position waiting for this storm to break

Nice. I really like this piece. It reminds me a bit more of my earlier work (with my liberty to invent words). I did have some strange dreams last night. It's funny how sometimes your whole day can be affected by the dreams you had the night before... or sometimes when you find yourself half awake and still trapped in a dream, that feeling kinda lingers with you after you wake up. And yet the actual details of the dream remain fleeting, like a melody that you can't seem to remember. The notes, just beyond your grasps. Your toes, tapping out a rhythm but the melody is missing.

Tonight, as I was preparing to write, I found myself trapped in a Youtube link clicking session where one video would lead me to the next. And with each video, a different emotion is unleashed. Jealousy - wishing that I could play guitar just as well. Pride - thinking that I could cover that song so much better. Love - as I fall for a female singer. Why is it so easy to fall for a musician? I dunno. It must have something to do with the magical relationship that music has with the soul. As every guy in a rock n roll band can tell you... music is the key to getting the girl.

Oh, I've also been listening to these podcasts of great lectures or the art of the lecture... something like that. That's where I got the "poetry is a word machine" bit. I believe that was how William Carlos Williams defined poetry. I dunno. I wasn't listening that intently as the podcast was just my background noise at the time. Anyways, sorry for being long winded today and having nothing to do with Christmas. Peace out.