rooting through my box here for a resume, i found soem old poems from when i could still write at the pub:
Quote from: unnamed poem one
i dreamed a dream
i was a wake
and then i was
upon the merry
rolling hills of hell
crashing upon some distant tide
a folded sky from stars
shone down and you
your naked eyes
transfixed upon oblivion
Quote from: unnamed poem two
oh these waking times
this terrible burden of
connected moments
held linear by a tether.
for dreams are what is true,
in those lucid times
events unconnected
with no memory
of purpose or name,
nor of self or being.
take me back then
to that fall
that bliss
which is tasted from
within the depths
of sweet abyss and
warm nothing.