From trickle to the rapid,
A day in many streams,
All drops turn weak and vapid,
But race like troubled dreams,

For leans on hands of time,
Are fraught with hidden pain,
Nothing shall stop to rhyme,
All things shall leave the same,

For in time's long unending reach,
To the divine eternity,
All slips away and drags to teach,
Are not man's arms too short to hold the time.

The sky is kissed with sunflower,
Leaving the faintest scent yellow,
All pensive greys to mark the hour,
Here ink is spilt to swarming dreams,
The ebbing tongues of starlight tower,
On river's folds in lucid ebony.

I forgot how much rain feels like my tears,
A little pools in melancholy on,
My lip and dreads to line my beard though stays.
It is a hazy tear on dreamy eves,
Caught in a flash of headlights Perlan tear,
All movement and so coming mist in brief,
Like iron wool and shards of glass at once.

The sum to year for those to hear,
Two tens a-twenty, twenty twenty,
Five upon the millipedes.
Of these long ages spent in strange fashions,
In gorgeous dreams of sullen clouds linger,
On fields in fleeted seasons myriad,
In 'mail, and robes, and suits and then to falsest weaves of each,
In helms, and hoods, and hats and then to countless scores of each.

We talk the talk of dreams,
The sky is soft and dim and we to watch,
So full on time in merry passing by,
And as this moment meets the next,
I hope it lasts a fossil in its time,
Though it falls liminal like pleasant dreams.

Oh the crystal grass and more outside blue,
So round and full impress upon the mind,
And so in drops of preformed ink,
Crushed down into a heady-scented page,
A brilliant man makes busy the inner sight,
He talks long and sideways in so real a speech,
Down through the winding ducts of culture,
Through a shelf and hands and heady-scented page,
Reaching one who walks gingerly upon his dreams.

The night drags lately on unhinged,
The ringing just for me to dwell,
To listen beyond any noise and find it further still,
I'm found in murky dreams so frail,
They hardly hold a pull and so descend,
To settled sheet like drowsy sediment,
I am sleepy with the time,
I am gorged on frantic plays,
The hidden inner man has walked upon the face and is now to rest.

I'm finding fun with you my kin and friends,
Deep at the bottom of all childhood dreams,
All pools and safe-depths conquered to each inch,
Perhaps we'll try some cards down here in the,
Unfriendly unders - we'll bask in cyan rays,
Such speckled lights upon our frozen glares,
Deep in the balance of the air and careful hands.

I fancy myself a mad pianist,
Striking measured fragments on the keys,
Growing ever familiar with my dear motifs,
Which layer into paragraphs and scripts,
To run as sprites through copper wires,
And swell into a bare-metal dream.

Tear away from all the noise,
To deepest underbelly's dreams,
Where sound is hushed to burbled whisper,
Chatter to the waking world above.

A practiced fluency I've gained,
To walk in languages and symbols vast,
To follow steps of giants in the wake
Of history and its captivated minds.

Their fantasy and genius care to show,
In objects of reason borne in Greek script,
Wrapped up in varied meanings -
A model of computation and its simple alphabet.

Oh the winding spools of tape that coil upon the winds,
Drawn out beneath these marching machines -
Automata of the dreamy kind.

Optimising silicon dreams,
I hear the metal humming merry,
Crunching numbers yet not twice,
Moving fancy particles and forming formlessly,
Culminating to a blinking dream.

Plucking a poem from the air,
Wisps of cloud form droplets in my grasp,
Condense to drip down fingers taut,
A chaotic distilling file outstretched,
These stanzas held like dearest dreams,
In ever-refracting light
To stillest rainbows in the beads.

Like flowing currents in a warm stream,
This molten tiredness drifts beneath my skin,
And my mind wanders like a dream,
It pulls me into muddled half-way hot,
The ripples tall as I dip through the froth like cream,
It pools in steady pools like sunken thoughts,
I stand to the side and breathe the steam.

I see a dreamscape out far out of blue,
The sky is like the turning underwave,
It's light like bowing bubbles pressed close up,
A kind of flowing network made in threes,
They bundle up and wobble in the wind,

I am adrift in vacant currents swarming,
They swarm until I'm full of stillness true,
I'm greeted by no floor but silence by,
The underwave accomplished in the breeze,
I wonder why it dwells just out of reach,

I see the light turn gently in the rays,
Out deeply into skies above I gaze.

A forgotten dreamland,
Caught up in mauve and roman red,
Fermented light adrift the curving ribbons,
They nestle into winding winds,
A depth of cloth fallen into sand,
Like blood coral on the lilac bed,
I sink bellow to deep ebon,
All that's mauve and red is dimmed,
My legs are warmed and filled with lead,
The surface of the deep is soft,
Up, up! I'm met with ribbons in the chiming wind aloft.

O marching time,
Ever advancing to the quartz command,
And out you roll in legions of meadows,
There's beauty in your fractured smile,
Great virtue to your steadfast soil,
And order to your reed-whispered seconds,

I saw a glimpse in temporal plains,
Behind you lies a greater mind,
And we too reside in drempt up fields.

Shattered dreamer,
I behold you, my pride conceived,
A dream of something unchained: unruly,
A striving after fragile might,
And I see you broken on far truer shores,
No spectacle here in drempt up fields.

I'm humbled now,
Assured by this here gracious dream,
Recede now, shattered vessel.

Look on ticking fields askew,
I open eyes again renewed,
I plunge my hand into the brush,
Their seconds softer,
Meeker than some firmer days,

Trace deeper,
I stroke the gapping cracks abundant,
Fissures spanning my perception,
Fractals scattered between my touch,

Their finer fractures seem to dig in,
Overturning soil in tiny mounds,
The hours laid out flat,
Almost bent to breaking point yet holding humble,

What melody do you bring to me?
Of scraping nails and howling fiends?
Of shattered dreams that scar the heart?
You'll break your beams on gorgeous fields,

Dream bastion of the wearied world,
I scarce desire to call you so,
Sole dust resides in floating walls,
And none will lean on fragile might,

Your rage will break you,
This I know,
I'd say recede to lifting dream,
But shattered too shall you soon be.

Seconds waving by my shins I stand,
Surrounded by some clockwork legions,
Ordered beauty emergent in the uniform reeds,
And the passing time seems ever more masterfully constructed and composed,
If only chaos did not overun my shadows...
Shattered dreamer,
We do not dance in common fields,
You stand unsettled bursting through the seams of time,
You strike at chords too ancient for a tale,
The likes of which my dearest dreams hold not a candle,
Be humble,
Behemoth of the timeless sea,
Be still,
Your finitudes lie veiled beneath your gaze,
Begone,
You know not that which you lust to shatter.

Fall asleep on carpet bristles,
Encircled by a talking family,
Heavy brain inside your skull,
Rests warm beneath a dream-woven duvet,
And cozy warmth spreads through and through,
On carpet bristles halfway soft.

Sharpened gaze,
On Month's meadow anew,
Seconds seem to snap into view,
Slowing down before my haze struck mind,

You fiendish beast,
How dare you trample ordered minds,
And crash on ancient shores unsaid,
Why, come follow me on winding hills,

You cannot grasp these heels of mine,
My 'prints not simply yours to tread,
You wish to bend my ordered lines,
But dreams of other kinds burn deep within.

Behemoth of the timeless dream,
Why do I see see you clear on shores of cyclic Months?
What haunted you to shatter dearest dreams?
You encroach on concrete time, amiss,
Bearing hues before the blandest reeds,
Their seconds swaying ever same,
Uniform beneath your fragile might,
What horror draws you to the realised,
That devours very possibilities you stand to hold at once,
No...
You wish to shatter time.

The sky's bleeding rose gold,
It trickles through the leaves -
Pooling in the darkness,
And overwhelming the horizon with its heft,
It tugs the colour from the sky,
Leaving a fracture of white that fades into cotton candy blue,
It melds into my mind,
And I see it in my thoughts dripping like syrup off the edge of the world,
Down into a devoid dreamland.

Stumbling in the reeds of time,
And the Month rolls out into vibrant meadows,
My forearms lie buried in the swaying grass,
Their seconds beckoning me to sleep,
And I lay down at the day's peak,
A meek hill under the starry expanse,
Month's end sinks deeply into the receding archives,
And the vacancy between rolls up around the minutes hand,
Stored to be laid out again farther afield.

Month's end,
The temporal path seems to fall away ahead,
I see a days journey winding to the faded drop,
Beyond it a fathomless expanse,
It pulses with ancient vacancy,
The time flows on afloat the horizon,
I see the Month beginning anew,
A solitary island beyond the shore of deepest time,
It will be crossed in a blink when I dive off Month's end.

Grassy beds,
Lie strewn in yesterday's dream,
But today spring overturns air,
And falls firmer beneath the slope of my back.

Dream vessel,
Washed as white as snow,
I see you again,
Drifting pale in the sideways starlight,
Yearning out an incomplete symphony,
And so left half gone...
Strapped in part to wandering impossibilities,
And chained to the tides of deepest unconscious order,
You stand alone, still, veiled in obscuring violets,
Felling trees like great hammers that strike the chords of resounding sleep,
And the walls of truest reality stand firm,
Begone now,
Your time is ever yesterday.

Slowing down,
And my body sways on the midnight river,
Slow dancing on the rolling waves,
All is calm in dreamer's town,
On the open waterway my raft wobbles with a releasing shiver,
I will find my vessel for another day docked and saved,
And rest in truest hugs divine,
That wrap me up in gentlest providence.

Cloud walking,
Sleepy in the air,
Ascendant on the racing clouds,
That wrap around the rolling earth,
And rumble, soaked and heavy in parts,
And others boil with furious crackles,
But here they float on slowly now,
Under the setting stars.

Shaded walls,
Do flow on upwards,
Sheering off to a flat face above,
A surface that is,
Nothing strange to see,
But nighttime waltzing to the tune of retreating day,
When noonday folk do rest from toil,
And gaze upon their frames beyond tight eyes,
And thoughts fall into weary dust of dreaming-scapes.

I see you there,
The floating bastion,
Austere in raging, fragile might,
Ever passing like the countless vessels of deepest sleep,
So drift alone - elusive on the non-Euclidian waves,
Dance alone - trancelike by the shores of burning ice,
Dread alone - steadfast under the weight of sharp realities that eat...
Dream vessel of impending past,
Be drenched in purple blues and clearest cyan,
Translucent like the crystal's shards,
Begone now,
And recede into the lifting dream.

The waahwaah tree,
Stands dignified in the jungle of its melody,
Pastel fragments of light step between existence and non-existence,
Playing like fairies on the singing winds,
And adding flashes of flavour to the flowing melody,
All is like a dream,
The shadows too bright and the lines blurred and fuzzy,
Wrapping up the marshmallow clouds in softer blankets of fluffy uncertainties,
The land seems to fall through and stand firm,
As the whirring waahwaah contextualises the floating footing.