Litkicks Message Board Archive

Sundae Dreams

This is a work in progress. Feel free to add on a dream, so long as you feel it's a positive message for the world.

I live in a dream,
And though it may seem,
Real to me and her and you and purple dogs with three feet,
Its nothing, but for you and for fun, I’ll write it down to a beat.
Welcome to my brain or my child or both,
Watch as we consciously seek spiritual growth.

I have eight lives in this place,
Lying around, to waste just in case,
Jumping off buildings for effect or for fun,
For saving lives in fires that shouldn’t kill one,
Tragedies cease and children don’t die,
And tears are laughed at like kids when they’re shy.

And everyone’s silly,
And thrilly and frilly,
And people bounce beach balls high to the sky,
And no asks why do they bounce them so high,
Because they want to, that’s all, I think it’s okay,
To want to bounce beach balls all night and all day.

People smile and wave,
No one needs to behave,
In any particular way, just be who you are,
In your home, or your work, or sitting down at a bar,
It’s sad in this world when people live their whole lives,
Never revealing their cares or their drives.

And everyone’s a poet,
Unafraid to show it,
Symbolically speaking, we can’t all be the same,
We need builders and bankers, and stars of great fame,
And I dream of a world where mad artists aren’t crazy,
Or drains on society, pointless and lazy.

People fight for what’s right,
And they play in the night,
Parents rally against bullies who ruin kids’ lives,
Instead of working to end porno on their hard drives,
And politics are clean, not dirty and mean,
So the will of the people can truly be seen.

We don’t bomb foreign nations,
Iraqis or Haitians,
We send them flowers and balloons with a pretty white notice,
Saying “I’m sure that you’ve done some thing to deserve this,”
We melt them like Ghandi, civilly disobeying,
And listen to thoughts and ideas they’re conveying.

And whores aren’t so bad,
They’re accepted like ads,
Fat ugly people have feelings like you,
Teachers and actors, homeless people too,
They’re not pitied, not seen like lives that are wrecked,
Simply looked in the eyes and given respect.

And I can get drunk or blaze,
And come home in a haze,
And not have to worry if I did something dumb,
Or got a girl drunk so her body went numb,
And some cock took advantage for an easy lay,
So he wouldn’t have to jerk off that day.

And things are okay,
No matter what I say,
How can you tell me that nothing is right,
When two people are falling in love tonight
Boy-boy, girl-girl, or some combination,
Something that’s right needs no designation.

People read like they’re young,
And things spring and they’re sprung,
And Milne and Silverstein and Watterson and Seuss,
Aren’t thrown to the side, they’re put to good use,
And we play Hug-of-War on a day that’s just packed,
With Pooh Bear and Tiger and the Cat in the Hat
Oh no oh drat, my form just went splat,
Its tumbling undone,
But I’ll go on just for fun.

There are hippos here too,
They feed on beef stew,
Served by monkeys in tuxes, who laugh at our jokes,
They lose money in card games and drink diet cokes,
And give hugs to children who smile and giggle
With bubbly eyes and noses that wiggle.


And I can sit on the couch,
With a smile and a slouch,
On a Saturday day, maybe sometime in May
And wonder why Wubby eats popcorn that way,
He takes way too much so it spills out the sides,
Maybe it adds to the enjoyment his popcorn provides.

And I have lots of space,
In this time and place,
Space to dawdle and amble and bumble and stumble,
Enough space so I don’t have to watch where I rumble,
Every path is unbeaten and red lollipop cluttered,
And I can rest by the side when I’m tired and tuckered.

Buddha and Jesus,
Can walk where they pleases,
And talk to Locke or Kant, exchange notes with Mark Twain,
Or unknown geniuses once thought insane,
Maybe together they can all figure it out,
Maybe it’s easy when we discuss but don’t shout.

And speaking of shouting, I’ll do it all day,
Whenever I feel like the world is at play,
I won’t be rude or mean,
I won’t create a scene,
I’m just being alive and trying to live,
And give to the world something small I can give.

So I lie down in bed,
Scratch my tummy and head,
And think about wonderful dreams I can dream,
Dreams like bananas, cherries and ice cream,
And ponder my world, and realize how it seems,
When people rely on their ice cream dreams,
But I can and I will and I will ‘til my eyes close,
And I hope when I wake up and nobody knows,
I’ll put on my clothes, and twiggle my toes,
And walk out to a world of feather pillows.