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Recite for me a dream.
A bleeding madman's scheme
Lost from the splitting seams
of a broken skull into a stream of conscious thought
that can control chaos of the senses
and grant minds strength to jump fences, but
Only in a madman's dream.
Hear him sing his dying ode to a wanton freedom lust
of old. Only to fall on ears deaf and dumb:
Primordial filth and nex-gen scum.
Yet to my ears his lyric falls
like paint poured from the grail onto a blank wall.
And in my brain exposes a savage, not of the jungle,
but of words, written rage and thoughts,
Swinging from lampposts
Revolting on the page, ridding his mind of the rot.
Beckoned to the light, the little savage comes,
I do not seek a soul to ravage
Just a heart to lavish, nourish and encourage evermore,
So that with love I may implore the growth of something.
Like the reflective sunlight of the moon,
I hope these words will twinkle soon,
in the eye of an angel: sublime,
Who makes the brutish anger, brooding laughter, and brainless actor stop wasting time.