The dreams police do not exist
Hello and welcome to my poems and lyrics Blog.
In this weeks Blog, I include the poem "The dreams police do not exist" - to remind us all that self-limiting ourselves can be worse than the restrictions others try to place on us.
Madly Chopping Madly
Madly chopping madly
My busy flailing feet.
Weaving hands and brain
Through all the folks
And places that I greet.
Weirdly thinking weirdly
My whirling words abound.
I wake, my mind won’t let me sleep
Another minute before
I rise to walk the ground.
Musing gently musing
The lady pauses before she speaks.
Those silent sons and daughters she calls hers
Shall receive the gold she ekes.
The dreams police do not exist
The dreams police do not exist.
Whether black and white or colour,
Every dream is the same price.
Keep your mind large size for your dreams.
Some have minds too small, limited,
The vision clipped, badly edited to fit.
Leave dreams free to feed.
The world and folk are large enough to taste;
So dip your spoon, let your bread soak up the bowl
And eat!
Acceptance Song
Ruby is waiting downtown.
Silent, she never complains when mud sticks.
Accepting disappointments as her dreams dissolve,
Just life’s usual ticks.
And Joe has been here for way too long.
Toiling while others sleep away the night.
It got easier when he quit illusory hope
Same job but its feeling more right.
So don’t worry
Hard times roll over and move out of sight.
Like drifting clouds passing
Uncover returning light.
And don’t grieve
Over what may happen today.
For there’s home and there’s supper too
Whatever they say.
Whatever they say.
Got a hooking stealth.
Choose your God like puppies from a basket,
The cutest winning favour, giving gifts.
Prosperity, no strings, is what we’re after
Some sacred high builds higher as it lifts.
Some say that truth it matters, we don’t hold this.
My eyes are scanning options, picking out the biggest bliss.
Maxing out the easy times, requiring lowest input
Easy street with easy money, has the sweetest kiss.
Truth don’t matter, when you see the light.
You never get rich by living right.
Certains something you can pass on by,
Deal the cards, play our games until we die.
Truth’s a thing for others, I got something else.
My stars I made got a hooking stealth.
Got a hooking stealth.
Walk our ways, as if we never knew them.
Head out, with no direction or a map.
Suck in the air that feels as good as freedom.
Accused of boring lives, we beat the rap.
Some say you sit still long, the world comes to you.
But seasons change, keep passing by my door.
I could step up, keep walking out forever
Instead I’m here, just looking at the floor.
Babble on Like Babylon (a Reggae toast)
Don’t babble on like Babylon.
Piling up your prayers, to the man upstairs.
Don’t u tire out respect, when u genuflect.
Don’t go wearing out mi knees, so Him I please.
There’s no worship toast, that has the most.
No almighty approval tags.
‘Cause all our glories, to Him are (filthy) rags.
God sees your heart and that’s the part.
No piling up your prayers
Only worship in truth’ll get you upstairs.
Heaven upstairs.
Pieces this week are taken from my collection “The Dreams Police Do Not Exist” 2014
Thank you all for reading and following me, till the next Blog, keep well and safe.
Best wishes,
Louis
This Blog and all contents, copyright Louis J. Casson 2016.