Nightmare Trip
Future-telling
I dreamt last night
and the dream I dreamt
was so vivd and bright
that I knew what it meant
right away.
I was deep in sleep
as the hours ticked by
when I felt it creep
and heave a sigh
of dismay.
I opened my mind’s eye
to feel what is said
and stretched my arms wide
to taste where it led
by the bay.
The water was foaming
on waves turning white
the clouds were roaming
quite clearly in sight
near the spray.
The mountains were hanging
by threads fine as silk
mermaids were singing
as they gathered the milk
from the hay.
I saw with my ears
and touched with my mind
the passing of years
and Man’s nature blind
in a day.
My eyes tasted pleasure
that sunlight would spurn
gathered a treasure
of cool that could burn
with a ray.
My lips heard a tale
of Unseen beauty
of a child that might fail
the Earth’s every treaty
with Life.
A child born of hate
and bred in the crib
of anger and hate
tied down with the bib
of strife.
A child in blankets
of gloom and despair
wearing the anklets
of distrust and dare
with a knife.
A babe on the bed
of sickness and fear
his sheets stained in red
with the blood of his peers
‘cross the ocean.
The toys of this child
so newly released
from destruction vile
of agony conceived
by a potion.
The child of today
will unthinkingly end
the takers of pills
and go off the bend
in one motion.
I saw a voice
give me this plea
to leave a choice
of sky or sea
to fly.
I smelled a look
of untold agony
in the child’s cursed looks
of his hated destiny
to die.
The message was clear
the future described
when I felt the sear
of doses prescribed
on the sly.
The feeling was with me
the shivers and shakes
when crack make me see
through ears and I wake
to the sound of traffic
passing nearby
feeling terrific
not saying goodbye
to dreams and illusions
that lend escape
from a world of delusions
and unearthly rape.
I wrote this poem in 19 — , when I was barely 18. I had no knowledge of intoxicants or substance abuse then, and still do not in my personal experience. Medical cannabis prescribed for my Dissociative Disorder is the strongest drug of which I have partaken, that only for a short while during the last decade. I know we have not even begun to discover the science behind time travel, other than in the fevered imaginations of science fiction writers and film makers. I cannot explain how this poem, at least for me, so reflects the present state of our world and it’s marginalized populations. I am open to your interpretations. Several other poems have surfaced today from this cache, and I have sent them all out today to various publications. No, I am not filled with despair and existential angst now, but I wonder how we survive our nightmares to waking and to adulthood, and find that we were future-telling.
Roy, I am tagging you in all my nightmare submissions from today because reading your nightmare made me go looking for these. You’re welcome.
