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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Dream state yields deep sleep personifications Upon lying supine - eye shutter lids into the land of Wynken, Blynken, and Nod, where the sandman beckons and bids dead to the webbed wide world, yours truly immune to wakefulness despite being tasered courtesy cattle prod, or struck by lightning hurled by the invisible hand of God inert as a cow pattie or blocky clod. While surrendering into deep slumber recollections harken back to the following nursery rhyme; Rock a bye baby on the tree top, When the wind blows the cradle will rock, When the bough breaks the cradle will fall, And down will come baby, cradle and all. Scant minutes elapse before I drift off into the subconscious land of sleep (while android counts/ dreams of electric sheep to make sure none went missing) lethargic fatigue yours truly cannot slough after buzzfeeding my belly and satiating thirst for knowledge from respective culinary, viz sans surfeit smorgasbord and savoring meaty mixed morsels erudite literary trough slogging thru most famous works courtesy Arthur Evelyn Saint John Waugh storied titled such as early satires, Decline and Fall, and A Handful of Dust, the novel Brideshead Revisited, and the Second World War trilogy Sword of Honour, which substantial tracts terrific tomes, I have yet to read, but nevertheless immensely admire. So submerged, mired, bogged, et cetera within the realm, where extravagant small scenes thrive within the body, mind, and spirit electric (captivation with closest state constituting dead weight) ofttimes lingers long after emerging from slumber perhaps being rudely awakened by the following unexpected figment. Most unpleasant to wake from a clangorous start, whereby nerves frazzled, and getting forcibly sprung loose and unwound untimely woke out theta sleep what...the... creaking, effing, hashtagging, jump/kickstarting, pinteresting, and screeching re: sound emanating from suspected garden gnomes, until I finally came round up to their impish ways and means whimsical fancies to propound unleashing an unexpected raft of musings upon the cyber sea indicating masculine pronoun he him his after first shot of high test coffee (prepared by the missus she/her), to start the day subsequently the wife found me reading the screaming headline news today oh boy, whereby all manner of political talking heads expound, when debt ceiling comes crashing down raising capitalistic pandemonium sense and sensibility drowned spelling partial/total government shutdown point middle finger at dented prez clown. Hard to believe remembrance of things long passed into scores of yesterday's ago, nevertheless still faintly reverberates within the windmills of my mind. Case in point being the following reasonable rhyming vignette. The night of my spectacularly exhausting seventh birth, I dreamt about an amazing fictitious place, and taint nope pull lace on Earth cozily warm like a wood burning hearth, where embers snap, crackle, and pop with mirth best show in shutterfly REM hmm...memory wool worth (at least for near future) stayin alive whiskey indeed no comparison, dip pin dive ving into subconscious realm, and drive ving devotees mad, 'specially when bing a barf hull lie ("FAKE"), thus wide awake temper aerily perhaps til five (more minutes), when (laugh-in) Ruth Buzzy's hairstyle as bee hive honey combed noggin will cease to jive, and crown jewel will suddenly seize gnome hatter, hatter how hard I strive to stay awake for no particular rhyme, nor reason won during, how far this chap can push himself to break king point, which presently me make foolish poem just to slake hungering need to slather palaver which yukon leave or take, since essentially nary a clue handy dan dee blues - zee drew pea senseless blather basically (AWOL) din flue zee brooked stream of consciousness writing whatever zaps glue pee bobbing sponge with grayish cerebral cortex hue cranking out words as they snap, crackle and pop to this Jew dishy us scribe of Schwenksville knew dulling in an attempt to splash unexpurgated lunacy gobbledygook, yes sigh hug gree quite loo pee, yet this long (in the dent chord tooth) fell cue Horton hears a Who, he experiences silly (NOT solid) milk chocolate state ready to moo myself to cowardly pose new matter, an unusual burst of energy recharged ordinarily inactive cerebral queue, hence maximization left no time to rue rationality upended in frenetic attempt to spew until...capacity to type another poem sputters, a dog send to you and all otter readers within the webbed whirled wide human zoo!
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