Sunday, June 13, 2010

Writing my Wishlist

A crumble of bread
Crunching down our throat
With milk to swallow it down
And trickles the sweat of time
With patience to swallow it all.

The morning drum starts and so
Does the grind of clinching fists
With tapping keys and glassed eyes
I look for bread butter in the inanimate screen
And you look for salvation
For the unboxed mind
Where you are the orator of the stage

You seek the Godot and the Phantom
And grip on the fine thread from a
Street play given to us on lease
To weave the dreams of us in a
World made of voodoo puppets
Eating of processed pamphlets
Of flahslights and elite pens

Take a peak on the racing time
Out of the iron fence
And I see our tapping feet and soaring voice
Breaking the what-should-bes and dimes
Dreams we've seen together and the
Items we've listed down...
Crawl back to us like doting toys
As we run unbound

The crumbled bread soothed with milk
Will win the test of time
And break into the light of the
Wind of change to phase the winter mist
Putting each dime into dime
Turn it into bread n' wine
See you scissor the ribbon of your dreams
That's my Wishlist... and here it begins.

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