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Array ( [sid] => 28256 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Dreamer [time] => 2003-11-30 02:33:06 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Chilling out on grass.
Lying down.
Catching rays.
Four friends that are loving these beautiful days.
They all take a drag, but they are braking the law.
And the boughs,
of the trees,
drape down,
to the floor.
The atmosphere changes from normal to neon
and the clouds form a moonscape
spinning past,
they are gone.

Blood is pumping through their veins and soft probing hands are massaging their brains.
The beat increases like a deep tribal drum and the friends, they are dancing to a natural hum.
Like mist in rainforests or pea-souper smog,
protrusions of shapes that appear through the fog.
Dripping and tripping through impossible mazes they search for a place in smoke made dazes.

Visions are split, repeating and quick.
Deep thaoughts are to follow, they fill in the gaps, left by clean thoughts when they left through the taps.
Intense ideas and a logic to stun so they sit and they listen as they leave the dream world.
Spaced out they swim in a mellow green sea.
They laugh,
they're happy,
at last they are free. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 141 [topic] => 30 [informant] => heavenly [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 3 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => PoemsonBeauty )

Dreamer

Contributed by heavenly on Sunday, 30th November 2003 @ 02:33:06 AM in AEST
Topic: PoemsonBeauty

Chilling out on grass.
Lying down.
Catching rays.
Four friends that are loving these beautiful days.
They all take a drag, but they are braking the law.
And the boughs,
of the trees,
drape down,
to the floor.
The atmosphere changes from normal to neon
and the clouds form a moonscape
spinning past,
they are gone.

Blood is pumping through their veins and soft probing hands are massaging their brains.
The beat increases like a deep tribal drum and the friends, they are dancing to a natural hum.
Like mist in rainforests or pea-souper smog,
protrusions of shapes that appear through the fog.
Dripping and tripping through impossible mazes they search for a place in smoke made dazes.

Visions are split, repeating and quick.
Deep thaoughts are to follow, they fill in the gaps, left by clean thoughts when they left through the taps.
Intense ideas and a logic to stun so they sit and they listen as they leave the dream world.
Spaced out they swim in a mellow green sea.
They laugh,
they're happy,
at last they are free.

Copyright © heavenly ... [ 2003-11-30 02:33:06]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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