Daydream
and then, maybe, write about it
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FeaturedFACING THE DARK CORNER – New collection of dark poetry
NEW Poetry Collection – FACING THE DARK CORNER
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FeaturedREALITY CHECK – New Collection of Dark Poetry
How can you tell what’s real in reality?
I don’t know. But I can struggle to find out.
Poetry seems like a good place to start. -
when going into the silence
work day’s
overit is 9 PM
Time to just go home
and allow the
silence to take overNo, I shall not
hit the town
as they call itI don’t care
I have nowhere to go
but a dark room
imbued with solitude
to sink intothese days
even the booze is
optionalSolitude
and
Silence
are all that’s neededI won’t bother
explain or justify myself
butthe most exciting part of
life is lived
when going into the
silence -
not ready to join the stars just yet
the girl with burnt face and
faded eyes
would call out to himShe would call out to him in those nights
of wandering alone around the
town
as a way to combat insomniaShe was barefoot
and wore but a simple nightgown
and if he got close enough
she would reach for his handcaress it a few times
while staring him in the eyes
with her eyes that looked like painted
marblesThen she would give a nod
and ask him to followAll the way up that unfinished building
all the way up to the ninth floor
all the way to the margin
all the way to the cornerTo watch the stars
But her eyes weren’t looking towards the sky
They were looking down at the lights
belowAnd every night she would jump down
to join the stars
and he wouldn’t followHe wasn’t yet ready to join
the starsBut maybe someday soon
Maybe
-
favorite part of being alive
and finally
at about
6:33 PM
the voices
went silentNo,
I’m not trying to be
pretentious by
saying that I hear
voicesI mean
the real voices of
everyone that works
in the office
with methey finally left
and left me alone
with my thoughtsIt’s a good time to sit
back in the chair
and just allow the waves of
thought to carry me
where they willmy favorite part
of being alive -
must tend to the balance
it’s like an old school
children’s storyand I don’t know whether he’s
the main character or just
one of thembut I see him going
to middle school
in ragged clothes, carrying an
ancient backpack on his
frail shouldersAs if especially to look more
like a fragment ripped
from a folk tale
he carries
bread crumbs in his pockets
and takes a fistful
and tosses it to the pigeons
as he passes by the parkpauses
stares at the birds
for a minute or twoand the birds stare back
and he resumes his
unhurried pace,
this time with the faintest of
smiles on his face“His mother died four years
ago,” the muse tells me. “Another drunk
driving incident
not different from the
rest.
She just came home from
work and crossed the
street when one of
God’s drunkest drivers hit
her and didn’t even stop to
check.
Now the boy spends his
days in
grief. He’ll never know that
the same driver who
murdered his mother is
the man who participated in
giving him life
and raised him. It’s… a weird
story.”“Damn,” I say. “Must you always be
so needlessly dark?”“I forgot to add that
he’s getting bullied every day
in school and
thinks of leaving this world
entirely
even more than his
father does. Unlike the old
man, he hadn’t yet
discovered alcohol
so that kinda explains a lot.”“Eh, I don’t know,” I say. “I’m not
in the mood
for another tragedy.
Don’t we have enough depressing
stories?”“There’s never enough
depressing stories, silly.”“I know, but… I mean, I’m not saying
to quit them altogether.
Just take a break and, you know,
write something else for
a change.”“Disgusting,” she says. “I don’t appreciate
the taste of other stories.
You wanna write about
sunshine and rainbows like
all the others?”“I must tend to the
balance.”“The what?”
“You know what I mean…
I can’t let the
madness weigh too much. Gotta
add a bit of mass
to the other side as well.”“Pff, look, if you’re gonna be
soft with me, I’m leaving.”She left
For now
And I stopped by the park
benches
and sat on one
and the pigeons
surrounded me with eyes
full of wantand I had no breadcrumbs
or anything to
give themso I just watched them
and perhaps my eyes
featured even more
want than theirsbecause eventually
they turned
around and leftIt’s good to be completely
alone for
once in the while -
the best driver I knew
he was the best
driver
I knewdrove better than some
people walkedhe was so sure of
himself behind the wheel
you’d think he could pass
the damn truck through the eye
of a needleAnd I sat on the passenger
seat and
just listened to his storiesman, he had a
lot of ’emand most were about his
wife
who was 19 years younger
than himHe used to tell me that she’s
complexed by the fact that one
of her breasts is significantly
larger than the otherthat she drinks
too many energy drinkscan’t have sex without
background musicnever learned how to
drivehad an abortion at 17
but is pro life nowcooks eggs
in the air fryerwants a pet dog one day
and changes her mind
the next daycan pee standing up
and many, many other things
I didn’t learn so many
intimate things about my
own girlfriendand the way he’d talk about
his woman
made you feel like you
were the one
living with herhe’d talk about it so much
and with such openness
that at the end
of the shift you’d
think you don’t even need a
woman in your own life anymore
You’re good with
hearing so much about hisSo it’s no wonder
that I miss working with the guy
so muchI really meant it when I said
he was the best driver
in the worldHe didn’t just drive better than
other people walked
but he drove better drunk
than most people soberAnd that’s the thing with him
He drove drunk a lot
If everyone was as good
at drunk driving
it would’ve been legalBut nope,
we do not live in an ideal worldThe law didn’t care that
he never made a mistake while
driving like thatSo he was left without his
license
and that left him without the job
and it was overhe wasn’t much good
at anything elseand what’s even worse
He got put into prisonThe man just wouldn’t
give up driving
drunk
and with no licensethey caught him once
twice
and I guess the third time
they had to stop him for
goodWell,
they didand I head he doesn’t have it
good behind the
bars“He got a big tattoo of
that woman of his
all across his back,” said the guy
who replaced him and now
drove his truck, “An’ problem is
she a pretty one.
You know why that’s a problem
when you’re going
to prison?”“I can imagine,” I said
“Yeah, better just imagine it
and leave it at that…”Poor guy
his problem was that
he lived too happily in a sad, angry
world
and the world sought to
do away with himIt appears that the world
has won this
battlebut after all that time
spent with him
in the truck
I know him too wellThe world might have won the
fight
but not the warnot with this
guy -
no other heaven I need to grind for
“The days pass like fallen
leaves into the
river, under the bridge,”
he says
and thinks that it’s
the deepest shit
one can utter
about lifea life that he’s
so damn full ofHe wakes up at 6 AM
every morning
and drinks water, stretches,
jumps a bitgoes into the bathroom
comes out
prepares a protein shake
spreads peanut butter on
a digestive cookie
ingests all thatgoes to the gym
comes home
writes business ideas on
a piece of paperHe’s all about that hustle life,
alrightHe’s 34 and ever ready
to give you
life adviceand then scold you
for not following it
correctlyHe advised me to stop this
writer nonsense
I waste my days with
and start a family alreadyand I advised him
to get a job already
and stop living with his
parentsand he hasn’t spoken to
me sinceI guess I’m a lost cause
in his visionI like to wake up in
the afternoon
and then
lay in bed
daydreaming for a few
more hoursthen maybe I’ll get up
and write somethingor just lay in bed
for the rest of the
day
to be fresh for the
night shift aheadI’ll be
alrightAll I need are my words
and time alonethere’s no other
heaven I need to grind
for -
the heart once broken
he was always the first
on the job
and the last to leavesilent guy
that’s why I liked him
There were nine of us
and we had to move
furniture and
garden decorations
and other stuff for people
who changed their addressit was heavy physical labor
alright
so it’s just normal to
sweat and stinkbut he was on another level
I mean, the rest of us
we went home at the
end of the day and
we took showersHe slept in the
carAnd I asked the others
why the hell did
he sleep in his car
when he lived in a big house
with his wife and
a little kidand at first they didn’t
reply
and the second time
I askedwhich was much later
they told me
he doesn’t go home
because there’s his
wife and kid thereI was still too young
to get itIt takes a certain amount
of living life
to understand such thingsI was nineteen back then
but sure didn’t feel
like an adultActually,
I don’t feel like an adult
today eitherI’m just old enough
to understand why
he refused to go
home
and chose to sleep
in his carIt wasn’t from him or
any of our colleagues
but one day I just came
across the saying,
‘the heart once broken
can never, ever…’and it just ends like
that.
The heart once broken can
never, ever…Now everything makes a bit
more sense,
doesn’t it?and even if it doesn’t
it makes you
want to leave things
as they arefor to seek to uncover the
world’s mysteries is
to disturb the balance
of beautyJust allow the world
to be what it will
and observe
but don’t interferethe sooner you
learn this lesson
the better -
why not allow a tiny fraction of magical realism in existence?
it’s a new world
every time you step outside
of your roomevery time you
leave homeevery time you
get out of your mindHappened to him about
two days agohe barely cared enough to
rememberall he knew now was
that he hadn’t been
outside for
at least two straight days
and nights
and hadn’t breathed fresh airand the only thing pushing
him to emerge
was the lack of alcohol
in his system and in all
rooms of the house. All
three of them
indeedalcohol was a good enough
substitute for
companyAlcohol and just a dash
of good music. Never loudHe’d been replacing company with
alcohol and music
and dreams
for two straight days
and nightsWhy do lovers just get up
and leave?
he wonders nowWhat happened to trying to
fix things?When did giving up become
the only solution?Eh, questions for
another day,
another timea less sober time
maybefor now he leaves the apartment
building behind
and relearns how to
walk
as he makes his way
towards the grocery storethe sight of a couple of
trash cans around
the corner
reminds him that he would’ve
taken the trash outhe stops a bit
considers whether he should
turn
back or keep goingthe impact of fresh air
and soberness makes
him dizzyfor a heartbeat he thinks
he’s hearing voicesbut no
he’s not gone that
far yetthe voices are as
real as he iscoming from behind
the trash canssaying, “This one. I could
eat this candy bar
for the rest of my life. I could
eat a villion of ‘em!”“You don’t even know
what it tastes like.”“But look how cool it looks.
It’s out of this world!”“I bet it’s crazy expensive,
too.”“I seen a wrapper
in the can once.”Just two street urchins
drooling over
the crumpled, faded pages of
a food magazineHe made the briefest eye
contact with themcontinued on his way
The grocery store
was unchanged. Beer was still in the
beer aisle. Fruits still
in the fruit aisle.
Oh, and candy bars. Close by.
The ones those kids were
talking aboutWhat in the hell was
this supposed to be?A kind of
sign?Those two kids probably never
ate a candy bar
in their livesWhat if he actually got
them some?
How would that change their
lives?He began feeling like
the protagonist of
a goddamned family movie
where Christmas miracles
happen or some
shit like thatWell
what the hell?
There was no law stating that
movies and reality can’t cross
each other a bitWhy not allow a tiny fraction
of magical realism in
existence?He bought four of
the damned candy bars
along with a six pack of
the cheapest brand of
beerpaid
got out of the
store and
said, “Well, fuck.” when he
came to the trash cans
and the two kids
were no longer thereYeah. Fuck magical realism
and divine intervention
and Deus ex Machina
or whatever the fuck they call
it these daysthe universe
god
whatever
doesn’t work like thatnothing in this world
ever fucking works
the way human
mind intends for it toNot. A damn. Thing.
Ever.That’s why we have stories
and movies to keep
us entertainedThe only way to control
reality is
to build another one, a model
of it. A fake one that
imitates the real thing
and works based on a
scriptman cannot control
what he did not
create
for he too is but a
creationThe only way is to
give upLet the world be
what it will be
and don’t interfereHe threw the candy bars
into the trash cans
one in each
and went back homeEnough interaction with
the world
for today -
pranked
12 AM
done with workgetting out of the
building and
heading homeThere aren’t a lot
of people in
the streets
and I seem to be the
tallest one
around“Bet you feel quite
safe from your
vantage point,” she says
inside my headAnd I respond, “Life ain’t
about feeling safe.”“Oh? And what’s it
about then?”“Poetry?”
“Haha! I… can’t tell if you’re
being pretentious
on purpose in an attempt
to be funny or…”“Or what?”
“C’mon, boy, revel in your
blessings a bit.
The lord had made you tall
and slim. Imagine how many
people can only dream
of having that. You have
long bones
and quite the ribcage, no?”“The ribcage?”
“Yeah. You have a big rib
cage that makes your
belly look small, flat,
perfect.
Remember when you crossed the
lake just floating on
your back. That’s insane
lung capacity.
It’s a cool thing to have.”“It is?”
“Hell ye. C’mon, fill it up!
Show it to the
world. Show ‘em you got
one huge ribcage, a big, big
protruding chest like
a rooster.
Would be a sin not to show
off when you truly have
something to show off,
don’t you find?”“I’m against showing
off.”“Oh, there you go. More
pretentiousness.”“That’s being humble.”
“No, it’s being
pretentious.”“Whatever.”
“C’moooon! Let’s do it
together. One
biiiiig inhale to puff
up that
chest real good right now.”I’ll be damned. I actually did
itwhile walking
Dragged a huge inbreath
and filled my
lungs with…rotten air
I didn’t notice
I was passing by the
damn dumpster
and there was something
or many things
dead and rotting in thererotten to the
point of
having flies and maggots
in the browned, gooey fleshand I forcefully gathered
all that miasma
into my lungsI gagged, my face wrinkling, the
guts in me twistingI had to spit
lest I vomitedDammit…
What the hell was
that?Had I been…
pranked?
By one of my hallucinations?
Oh well, what else
could I do but
laugh along and move along?I still love you
guys -
the only freedom you have in this life stands in the level of importance you place on things
Last time I saw him
it wasI think
six days ago
not exactly a full weak
He was down bad
and that’s
putting it mildlyHis tragedy was the
tragedy of so many othersWife left
and took the kid with herNothing new under the
sunWhat is new under the sun
however is the way
he deals with it nowIn these six short days
the man had
reached enlightenment
apparently“You want a drink?” he asked
meand I said, “Man, I thought you
quit after…”“Nah. I didn’t quit.”
He mixed his favorite. Beer and
tequila
and passed me a glass over the
coffee tableI thanked him
One thing I was sure of
The man was not drunk. Not at
allSo it must’ve been something
else that
helped him recover and get
over the struggleAfter the first glass
I asked him what it wasAnd he said, “Giving up.”
I said nothing. Just
watched him“Only the things you label
important can
hurt you. If it’s not important to
you, it can’t possibly hurt. That’s
the secret to happiness and
everything.”“Well, you seem pretty happy now.
And I can tell it’s
not fake.
So, how do you stop yourself
from making things important in life
when it happens involuntarily?
One can’t just label one’s family as
not important, right?”“Wrong, young man.
The only freedom you have in
this life stands in
the level of importance you
place on things, including yourself.
You will be able to do it
when you learn and accept that
it’s the only way.”Yeah, one day I’ll
get itbut
I don’t think today’s
the dayI don’t know
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Daydreaming as a profession 
Happiness comes two ways , my father taught me, BY faith, and Hard Work, enjoyed your writings.
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Thank you (^_^)
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I believe there may be a few philosophers left. Their voices may have been drowned in the multiple seas of social media but I think poets are somewhat philosophers, They dream and think outside the box. Thanks for stopping by Poemattic.
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Hope things are cool and hot DR., I’m a bit curious, I was looking over your work, and wonder if you do any strip writing ? I ‘m working on a book that will be a finish play. I don’t want it to get to much graphic dialog but need the iron words to push these concepts. Any suggestions. Like instead of B, or F, MF, I thought Bush Wet, Funk n Fish, Mold Food, well if you get a minute, Thanks.
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Hey hello, so nice meeting you! I saw you liked my post on trees, thank you so much!
Lovely poetry by the way!
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ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ
I thank you
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When I initially commented I clicked the “Notify me when new comments are added” checkbox and now each time a comment is added I get several e-mails with the same comment. Is there any way you can remove me from that service? Appreciate it!
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I am a little confused about your logic?
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Sure.. as an idea-unfortunately doomed to fail in practice, never mind eh?
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NvGaiprOcdbI
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uZyxIhpBWE
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hi this is a awesome website that you have thanks for sharing it with the world.
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hi this is a great site that you have thanks for sharing it with the human race.
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hi this is a awesome site that you have thanks for sharing it with the world.
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found you thank god
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you think he’d buy me mozzarella sticks
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you think so image
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Brantley
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Bellissimo lavoro,bravo continua cosi!!
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Very interesting site. Visually, on all fronts. Nice. “They” just posted a thing saying we aren’t real–just players in some virtual reality game. I have always done a lot of daydreaming and writing, but not much poetry. Looking forward to reading your work. Might get me back at mine…
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God, I LOVE “Fasting for Muses.”
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٩( ^ᴗ^ )۶
Thanks!
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Hello Bogdan,
You liked one of my Umbriate posts so I thought I’d drop in. Intriguing writing. Reading through your poetry I find…well, not sure how to put it–it resonates is the best thing that comes to mind. Glad I dropped by and will be returning. Thank you.
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Thank you very much for stopping by, Eric!
I’ll check some more of your stuff as well.
Subscribed 🙂
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