What do I want to dream about tonight?
I desire to soar through silver clouds;
Watch as majestic eagles take flight,
In the sun where there's no darkened shroud.
I'd like to see me in a different world
Where creatures only exist in folklore tales,
And I am mighty with my courage unfurled;
And I'd battle great evil yet prevail.
Perhaps I could find a true love there
On a beach of golden sand.
With sapphire eyes and silken hair,
She and I together on a distant land.
Alright, that's enough of that. It is clear that my poetry gets pretty trippy at 2:30 in the morning. I was much better off watching the last episodes of 24: Season Two. I debated whether to finish off the last couple episodes, but I decided to blog instead. What do I end up doing? I end up writing a poem...a poem!
Ah, well. Chrissy gave me the idea to write about what I would like to dream about tonight, so it's partly her fault. I won't give her the glory of thinking of writing a poem, though. No way, Jose! That was all me!
Anyhow, this is what I really want to dream about tonight: I want to dream about being some kind of cool special agent. One who isn't recognized by any government; one who technically doesn't exist. I'd do freelance special missions for the U.S. that would better the common good of its citizens. And I'd kill lots of people (bad people, of course) in really cool, stylish ways like Jason Bourne or James Bond would. But most of importantly, I would like to remember my dreams, for goodness' sake!
Yeah, that'd be a rockin' dream. Happy sleeping everyone! Oh, wait...the majority of everyone is already doing that. I'll take that as a hint. Goodbye, goodnight.
ADDED AT 3:09 AM
Speaking of poems, I went through my back up files and found a poem that I'm actually quite proud of. And given the U.S.'s state with Iraq, I thought this may be fitting.
I Know Why the Soldier Weeps (3/19/02)
I know why the soldier weeps
When he returns from a hard-fought battle
And finds a life-long friend is now asleep
When on the boat before they leap
See the others slaughtered like cattle
When he prays the Lord his soul to keep
I know why the soldier weeps
I know why the soldier fears
Witnessing the destruction of war
When screams of pain is all he hears
And feels abandoned by the great Overseer
When he sees missiles and bombs soar
And the toughest of men shed a tear
I know why the soldier fears
But I know why the soldier shoots the gun
When kills enemies with all his might
And when surrounded he mustn’t run
To pave a future for his loving son
For his country he protects and fights
So death in his land will not become
I know why the soldier shoots the gun
Friday, December 03, 2004
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6 comments:
Only sissy poets go to bed at 3:00. Check my latest time stamp, O drinker of Poesy!
Bed's nice for a change
If you mean to live life well:
But for interesting range,
Its not sleeping that's swell.
Also, in couplets:
Sleep, sleep, awake from deep within,
To burn the light off eyelids thin,
And bring sweet rest and dark to our
Young souls: so weary this late hour.
May the muse, from Hellas deep singing atop Olympus, touch your heart with music, verse and joy, and accompany Morpheus in the sweet draught of dreaming, whence poesy flows so freely.
Yeah, those are quite nice, but we know the truth about the type of poems you really like to write.
Also, I went to bed at 4 am that night. Eat it, mofo.
4's not quite so wussy... but what time did you wake up? Check the timestamp of my following post! Bam!
Oh, and that totally was Dustin. And even if someone else wrote it, they were totally being exactly like Dustin, because that sounds exactly like something the man would write.
I woke up around 12:30 pm that morning. I'm not sure if you're saying that sleeping in later is better or worse. Just so I look better, I'm going to say it's better.
I win.
Lem,
I'm the best.
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