RNAL#5 (1/06) - The Gunnery

Eyes of the cityIt watches and seeps in like a gooInfestation of society? Has it taken over you?It is partly where dreams are bornAnd partly why we must sometimes mournThe death of thought believing and exceeding the structure concrete streetsTo yearn to search the forest, the trees,give him all the options if you pleaseAnd then someTurn those leaves with an onward step.They are full of damp mystery that no one’s metDeeper and deeper is the nature of imaginationContamination of a state of mind that is limitless yetUncharted territory that lies beyond dream mist set in the slumbering hairEndless horizons of the deep lush, damp musk, natural thrust,towards a midnight saunter if your mind truly daresThe forest grows out of the soggy planks of the weathered boatUndulating on the midnight ride with so much so much its boughs do hideDreaming possibility has learned to float on it’s backFace up and looking that wayBut the boat does not discriminateIt only contemplates the wavesThat space between daysNightmares stowawayAnd despite the initial frightThey really shouldn’t go awayThat is until the break of dayLearn from the fear some might sayRiding in the back of thingsplay tricksLittle mirrors enjoy the ride and somehow show just what you hideLook at yourself, build or destroy a subconscious prideAll of this is salt in the tideMight seem like the evil side but really it all just flowsDevil and an Angel pull and push the full and intricate boatIsn’t conflict how we float?Would you want to drown or never get wet?Yet still believe in an ability to gloatSleep believes sometimes in challenges metEnglish Journal 5 (January 2006) 9