Color My Dreams and Hue My Light

Everybody rides the wave of time.
Some ride fast and others, perch slow.

All make book for the end of light, for the
ride of demise where day is left, unwritten.

Peaceful playground, my imagination, this
zoo of misfits who color my dreams and hue
my light.

Focus of clarity sees through my window
and history is made, but yet be blended; my time,
the time and my reality.

We ride the train, where merciful stories puff so slowly.
I guest with an owner, we write together, we share
the ingredients, our dreams.

Puff a wave, feel the sensation of melange
and fingers making beat to time, in me.

2012 Barry Comer

Advertisements
This entry was posted in alcohol, beat, cohen, dreams, love, music, Allen Ginsberg, America, beat poetry, jack kerouac, Jacques Prevert, Neal Cassady, Ogden Nash, Paris, Serge Gainsbourg, Spirituality, tom waits. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Color My Dreams and Hue My Light

  1. Bonjour my name is Jill and I’m a student and this website really helped me. I’m motivated! Thank you!

  2. “I think it’s time we bake a tart with these, don’t you think?” I asked. Sometimes nothing beats frustration like baking and über ripe fruit is perfect for dessert.

Comments are closed.