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Lucid Dreams!
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Life and Choices Lucid Dreams!
To Lucid Dream......To Escape from here.
To Dream of those times, we had fun with "No Fear".
Mis-Spent youth we led for a time;
Never "Thinking" just "Acting". Never wondering "Why".
Dreams of those times, we were kids once again.
Of those "Precious Moments"; we spent with friends.
DREAMS of our "Loved Ones"....we wish we could see.
Of the Child we Lost, for the choices we made.
Dreams of a Future that once seemed so Bright!
Now are Shattered and Broken; in this cell here at Night!
To Lucid Dream, where our "Spirit takes flight.
While our body lies resting, we escape here at night.
And in these Dreams our souls are "Free".
To soar with the Angels; our burdens we leave.
Dreams of our Freedom...this Debt being Paid.
Of a Marvelous "New Life"...The New One we make.
In Dreams there is life, of what we can be.
That the Creator pre-destined, but we never perceived.
In Dreams as in Life, we never conceived.
All the valuable and endless possibilities.
So Dream of the Future; and Let Go of the Past.
And within these walls....This to Shall Pass.
For Dreams are our only Escape from here.
But given time, we'll be Free once again!
Written and Composed By: Denise Hall
Fun Fact
In Job, God says he comes to us in our sleep and wispers in our ears to guide us through our waking hours. I always pray before sleep that he'll cast evil out and away from me, fill me and surround me with the holy spirit, and let my soul commune with him while I sleep.
I love how you tell me how
I love how you tell me how things make you feel. You love and accept the Holy Spirit as an active presence in your life, as do I. That gives me that feeling of kinship towards the Love we have for our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I give God the Glory for bringing me through some of the most difficult periods of my life. But his Loving Spirit was always present with me. I had time to reflect on what was important to me. I experienced what people feel like to know they will never get out of prison. I met the Stiletto Killer who murdered that doctor in San Antonio, TX. I've wrote about it and will add as prose when I get the opportunity. Thanks for your postive comments towards my work.
Poets
Jailed All Day
.
Can you create a new reality
based on the imagination, that tends
to corrupt the here and now? Your
life as the unbearable here. The incorrigible
now. Shelterlessly, forging walls to hold
out the hard stones of the only view.
Pounding with open palms the link fence
so thick the hands hurt.
.
Insight is born in antithetical freedom
celebrating stone and wire, locks
and more locks. Even those walking
outside the gates live in prisons, their
worst crime being born into it. The great
neglect of it. You find it unimaginably
hard to remember the chains dragging down
the boring ankles of day by day. The same
day. Endlessly.
.
One quarter of the world's prisoners
are inside high tech brick walls in
The United States of America. Ironically,
the prisoners believe in their country
and will defend those who have declared
themselves worthy jailors. The American
female inside will hurt you for saying unkind
things about the land of her mother, where
she was born and became a murderer,
or dealer in all kinds of talented arts.
This is your land, the environment that
enformed your felony.
.
The male perspective is unusually clearer.
Apart from unfairness as an expectation,
being a man in a world of ugly strangers who
define nothing to value, life has been fine.
The hell of getting processed after the fall
from free thinking and walking, is never
reduction to less than human. Always there
is a light, small and inextinguishable. The
man is deep inside. Depth is where his emotions
dwell. Well deep. Volcano deep.
.
We are all innocent. The world does not
see the rationale for the deeds of desperation
done mostly from a mind unable to discover
any dream or dash of consideration.
To read is escaping, but learning what
there was never time to explore. Exploring
the great works of art, not understanding
at first sight, but in time. In time.
.
Memorizing the greatest quotes, to fill voids
and make a new world. To be on Juliet’s
balcony, to climb it with Romeo. To learn
a new language during the time. So much time.
Redemption impossible, wallowing is only
the start, the finish may be enlightenment.
May become wisdom.
.
The reality is cold as dry ice, burning. Always
searing the skin from the fingers of the mindset.
To be closed in, unable to move by your will
alone is the challenge. Terrible challenge. Go out
of the body, removed from restraints, soar
like eagles, wing air and inhale blue skies
remembered from years ago.
.
Homo Sapien, look elsewhere for dreamscapes.
Memorize a book. Any book. Be the eyes
of your favorite author. Write down endlessly
impressions of what you sacrificed, what you
lost being you. Proudness does what it does.
Self-Image rewritten is absurd when self
view is always better. Perfect. Never having been
scholarly, the street educated eventually turn
inside and live there. Living out here is hard
for those caged and those uncaged. Prison
is a state of existing unless defiance births
a different way of seeing.
.
For the incarcerated, I offer a new way
of seeing. The mind indeed has an eye full
that is nurtured by memory and alright
thinking. If you form the portrait of anything
beautiful, anyone, pushing off pain for a time,
denying anguish chewing the heart like
a hungry and huge cat, a human will emerge
and find a mirror without scratches
or stains. Somebody elses stains.
.
The heart cools, the gentle self slowly erodes,
like topsoil, rich with smiles and the ability
to tell a joke to entertain. The tongue twists
forming words like hope, the mind bends
on concepts of what could have been. Somewhere
in the brain, a spark like a lighter in the dark
night of loneliness, flickers. There once was
a thought of what the world should become. Had
become. The goal to leave a mark. Any mark.
God and prayers help a little, the time of miracles
and prisoners universally freed just about sums
up the myth of getting home.
.
Star
03-15-15
1003a
.