Dreams & Shadows

Thank God for dreams

though they might frighten

in a scheming time

no filters no recourse

just a forcibly open mind.

Welcome to a bright ‘sunshiny morning’

So much enhanced

seeing the light of day

leaving darkness behind

my eyes did open

I did feel a sudden pain

slowly lifted

stepped away

in my dreams

shadows remain.

©️ Thom Amundsen 8/2020

Finding a Moment

 Go home and write
      a page tonight.
      And let that page come out of you—
      Then, it will be true.
– Langston Hughes
~
Though when time would suggest
it is an easy ask,
this only task we have in life,
is to speak our truths,
who it is we might be,
what we believe,
how it could possibly be
that all of our time spent
in speculation
just another round of
wanting to know,
to give us reason
to live our lives by,
understand the whole
no matter the loss of insight
brought upon ourselves
with some unraveled deceit.
~
Finding the words
the best way to relate my story,
glancing out windows
where my life once used to be,
sort of meant to be,
the picket fence round gardens,
dog running free,
children in a play set
being watched by
you and me.
~
My view is a spotlight
across a little street,
windows like my own,
yet different lives,
we all seem to share a similar
structure
meant to hold form
rather  beyond an original,
that formula had its way
for decades or more,
and now,
in an aging pattern
of recognizing our mortality,
here to stay,
this will be the remainder
of my game.
~
I would look for my children
for theirs are the memory
I reflect upon,
standing by the river
teaching them both
how to dribble a ball,
skate on ice,
master a bicycle,
show excitement when they search
my own eyes,
rather than letting them see
some pain I must hide
I would wish they feel
laughter and love,
an eternal fantasy in dreams.
~
For now would these words be
the reality I am ask to only seem.

© Thom Amundsen 7/2020

Hang Onto Dreams

Oh how we do experience fallout

letting our safer dreams fade into blue

the light of day soon cast away from view.

Eyes begin to lose life tossed about

 

in the mainstream; an acceleration

of a mechanical nature spans time.

(imagine lives driven only by rhyme).

We saviors within our own affliction

 

must then resort, balance upon virtue.

When in the heat of salvaging mind

would battling truth a constant we find,

recall sweet the elixir – living true.

 

Don’t ever let we might somehow release

sweet imagination, a twilight peace.


© Thom Amundsen 6/2020

Fearing The Worst

I remember the dreams, the constant reminders

a continual tease, a surreal world of sidewinders

 

Each one with a story, a parallel universe

would try to shake me, send me in reverse.

 

I could never tell if a person real or imagined,

it was a nightmare the bottom was assigned.

 

Otherwise the lofty airs of fascination

always relied waking realization

 

Just a dream, perhaps a reminder

only the illusion of the constant sidewinder

 

drawing imagined color scheme on the surface,

so the internal player would always save face.

 

Walking slow inside a familiar nearby memory,

I might choose to leap, try to escape this quandary.


© Thom Amundsen 2019

A Walk Inside A Dream

Took a walk inside a dream,

seemed the same,

each waking moment,

a breath of wonder

then wander back inside

visit old friends

stir memories of an

attitude

the sort of look in an eye

when we might fall into

the shell of our selves

inside the dream

everything happens

we sometimes wish away

from ourselves.

The next day

When a conscious reminder

that dream last nigh

look around the space

the people drifting by

could be there then

might be there

now

waiting for an arrival

every stone unturned

when the natural

tendency might be to scream

inside a dream

taking a walk

a wander

into a waking day

The Passing, of a Day

When begins insurmountable

task,

the waking anxiety,

a desire to burrow

rather than the music of the day.

 

We all seemingly rise to

a pattern

so familiar, oddly routine,

sometimes forgetting

simple beauty.

 

Our lives caught up in the now,

my mother used to say,

he’s a now

person referring to life,

whenever my depression would fail me.

 

Inside the passing

of hours

a remarkable dream,

perhaps a positive

an outcome of smiles.

 

Inside the passing of a day,

so much magic

allows the human condition

to love,

to understand, to breathe, to live.

The Visit

Though the time was ever so brief,

I knew her magic, felt her presence

in image she strolled the avenue,

only to suggest there is a reality.

~

When wonder shines upon human

mortality, we often let confuse

the notion of our existence

left aside when fate quiet speak.

~

I did in solemn journey wish to know

her heart would still follow my dream,

to know her elegance in charm

will bless ambition, protect vanity.

~

In that simple grace, capture passion

to know the afterlife might its fruition

When I Was 17

I remember not wanting to be around,

afraid of my own shadow,

playing anxiety games with my friends,

see who could cover their shadow,

who might understand the freedom

the real world,

the possibility that exists beyond our dreams.

~

I remember sleepless nights with an amphetamine,

the coursing through my veins attitude,

we could last for hours on our own,

no signs of empathy needed,

we were powerful with a dash of freedom

in a zigzag rolled with the finest weed.

We were always able to finally fool ourselves.

~

I remember wanting to escape,

hoping this next moment might be my freedom,

the simple reality of an hour,

could I forget myself long enough to remember

where it was I wished to be,

when while a slow reality might creep in,

I could still be 17.

~

I remember when it was possible to dream,

imagine a world where my life seemed real,

I could play with ideas,

preach philosophies that turned on the girls,

i would listen to Steely Dan,

while trying to paralyze my body,

through some Buddhist meditation.

~

I remember seldom wondering about the next day.

Anxiety Rush

I think the day was rather sunny,

at least that I recall,

layered in my own shawl

a travesty of the fall of humanity.

~

Could we ever move in freedom

if when we blink an eye

there is the question why

should we attempt design a kingdom.

~

When while a spiritual guide exists

in the hearts and mind

of the many who remind,

when is it that faith insists.

~

Can you see my eye, the fear I contain,

might reveal my inside

persona I keep beside

me as safely tucked away I can maintain

~

Some dignity of form I revel in

walk the streets clean

knowing that my machine

has met the standard; a societal win

~

now a certain grayness overcomes

the temperate nature of mine

a loathsome place I do incline

to share with no one; beat the drums.

~

When while I wallow in self-pity in frame

here now why would you let me join the game.

Dreams We Fear

It happened again,

you came back with a visit

only to remind me that you were gone,

not immediately,

a list of occurrences needed to take place

enough to have me find comfort

in what might quickly disappear.

Always that is the ruse

when we feel least rejected

then suddenly our confidence unravels

at the hands of our own fear.

I remember the first time,

when the decision was made,

I didn’t have any leverage,

any sense of needing to be heard.

Very simply you had decided

the books would be sorted alone,

rather than together as I had told,

when suddenly I returned

to discover you left me without

any discussion, reasons unknown.

Seems we fall so quickly,

so difficult to discern,

what motivates our actions,

or who might decide on their own.

It is in the dreams we fear,

even when we know to awake

we cannot ever imagine a peace

might exist beyond that we forsake.