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The Sower of Dream Wax

I would be the sower of dreams,
flossing the dead with new flavors,
spreading mirage matter on abandoned
walls. Better yet as a pair of eyes
rolling in the dark, beneath the lake's
syrupy tide, stained by the pyrite gold
of floodlights; a messy voyeur
a gaze which scalps the night.

Editing stage: 

Comments

A beauty!!!!

The poem was a tad ice-cream, albeit jet black ice-cream, before that line turned it into a dangerous work.

Onya, brother.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Directors

did it, he was the first mythological God then replaced by fraud men and tricksters. That you enjoyed it flatters my folded heart.

The Sandman I am familiar with but ne'er a once did I read it.

author comment

despite the good story and mythology, not a surfer at all and those of us who ride the ocean on surfboards could not accept him at all.
It tried to plug in to a popular lifestyle but dismally failed in that respect because those who wrote and drew it had transparently never ridden a surfboard. Does that sound like smug self-alienation?
No. Really, if you have ever ridden a surfboard and got tubed you will know I am talking about a very real and distinct spiritual experience.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Directors

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