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By Ivan Pineda | Category :: Poem

Dreams-I am attacked by dreams every night! It feels like torpedoes smashing against ice walls and cracking eggs falling splat to the ground upon my head. Sometimes they’re white doves and at other time they are black vultures waiting for my death. I guess the angel of death must like taking it’s time. It’s yet to save me from the vultures, flies, and torments of the night. Despite the fact that the night has shining bodies of gas and a large reflector in the sky to give a shimmer in the dark; my dream overpower the will of the Gods and that of the night equally and elegantly.I will tell you about my dreams. I shall start of by describing those doves.

White doves that bring red roses in their beaks.
These dreams are the ones I wish would come true!
I find the perfect lover, we marry on a beach with a perfect sunset
and with the rustle of waves among the shoreline.
We embrace in hug as the minister of the court
declares us wedded
the sea clashed with the shoreline wetting us both
as we kiss by the changing sky
as the blue becomes a purple hue
while the last rays die
and the kiss last until the moon and the stars
cover the sky
and my lover picks my feet of the ground
and we go to our home in the city
and we enter our home
and enter our bedroom
and poison our mouths
with everlasting kisses
made out nerves and neurons
and they; the nerves and neurons
create experiences I have yet to live,
besides the kisses which are fake
they create : lets just say they create
heaven on earth out pure lust, sin, and imagination
and as the sun shines down with its golden knifes
it kills all those nerves and neurons
and reminds me that I was just asleep

The vultures
they are more frequent visitors to my dreams
more frequent than those doves
and they bring the past to life
night after night
over and over
those bullies
my sister’s remarks
on my way of life
my dad’s disappointment in me
and the whisper words like fat, stupid, slow
and lazy
over and over again
those evil vultures
they’re chanting for my death
waiting for their Queen; Death
to walk to my bed
and kiss my soul out of my moth
with her long hair of entanglement limbs
reaching for my brains
and eating them their
those are the vultures for you
they fight with the doves
and win
and only the day and my pillows can conquer those foul vultures

By Ivan Pineda | May 19, 2013 | Category > Poem >Death | Comments | Views 905


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