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Array ( [sid] => 17992 [catid] => 1 [aid] => Mick [title] => The Impressionist Who Quit His Day Job [time] => 2003-05-23 15:05:00 [hometext] => A happy poem about getting what you want out of life and reaching your dreams no matter how strange or absurd they may be. [bodytext] => Did you ever have a dream
Where you were being chased
By a cackling witch
On a worn out broom
As you ran on through
A session of the Roman Senate,
Stark naked and bleeding from the knees?

Did you ever have a dream
Where you were the star of the show
Looking out at his audience
At his sea of adoring fans
And wishing that they could understand
Exactly where you’re coming from
With your hollow words and your off-key wails?

Did you ever have a dream
Where you were trapped in a maze
That was suddenly a part of your garden
And hey, while we’re at it, you were president
And your grandmother was alive again
And your dogs ran away
And your house was up for sale?

The thing is…
These aren’t dreams.
These things really happen
But to get there,
You have to surrender your life
To a power greater than you.
And once you learn that,
You come to figure out
That that rock-hard lump inside your breast
Isn’t a tumor, it’s your heart
And it’s growing tired from the runaround.
But hey, you’re there. You made it.
Happiness justifies death at forty.
I’d rather be there than satisfied at eighty. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 178 [topic] => 54 [informant] => Butterat_Zool [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => happypoetry )

The Impressionist Who Quit His Day Job

Contributed by Butterat_Zool on Friday, 23rd May 2003 @ 03:05:00 PM in AEST
Topic: happypoetry

Did you ever have a dream
Where you were being chased
By a cackling witch
On a worn out broom
As you ran on through
A session of the Roman Senate,
Stark naked and bleeding from the knees?

Did you ever have a dream
Where you were the star of the show
Looking out at his audience
At his sea of adoring fans
And wishing that they could understand
Exactly where you’re coming from
With your hollow words and your off-key wails?

Did you ever have a dream
Where you were trapped in a maze
That was suddenly a part of your garden
And hey, while we’re at it, you were president
And your grandmother was alive again
And your dogs ran away
And your house was up for sale?

The thing is…
These aren’t dreams.
These things really happen
But to get there,
You have to surrender your life
To a power greater than you.
And once you learn that,
You come to figure out
That that rock-hard lump inside your breast
Isn’t a tumor, it’s your heart
And it’s growing tired from the runaround.
But hey, you’re there. You made it.
Happiness justifies death at forty.
I’d rather be there than satisfied at eighty.

Copyright Â© Butterat_Zool ... [ 2003-05-23 15:05:00]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: The Impressionist Who Quit His Day Job (User Rating: 1 )
by dilapidivination on Tuesday, 27th May 2003 @ 06:13:48 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Amen.

Re: The Impressionist Who Quit His Day Job (User Rating: 1 )
by Butterat_Zool on Tuesday, 27th May 2003 @ 11:52:54 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

amen... grr... Sorry folks, I'm no christian... By greater power, i was referring to the human will to succeed, I was referring to the corporations that run the world, i was referring to fate a little maybe, but i certainly meant nothing about god or jesus or whatever. Not to say that i don't think jesus exists, it's just that my ideas of who and what jesus is are so perversely different from any other viewpoints i've ever heard that i refuse to be called a christian, and what i write is not christian poetry as anyone would ever call it. I understand that some of my stuff could be read in a christian sense, and that christians like to use everything they ever see to reaffirm their faith, but the reflections that my poetic mirror show are true reflections and are dark reflections. God doesn't shine in my mirror. Butterat Zool.

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