Original Beginning of Dream to Dream

I thought it might be interesting to share some notes I typed when I started to write "Dream to Dream". I usually don't write notes or outlines, but I wasn't exactly sure how to write what I was meditating on. I really like the first sentence below, but as you saw how the poem came out, it definitely took a different turn. I do hope to finish a more serious poem someday....

From dream to dream I build bridges
Over land and seas My thread for stitches

no hurts feelings in dreams
shots from guns etc.
end with this is how reality should be…no hurts from feelings…since we are dead men
may our dreams become reality

She Cries

She keeps her dreams in glass bottles
Throws them against the wall when alone
Picks up the pieces barehanded
Blood stains the shards
The pain brings release
Because inside she’s screaming
What she was expecting
The opposite has been perfecting
Glass is coming out her pores
Continual beating of waves on the shores
What seems beautiful to most
This same beauty Is her evil host
It’s love if I must spell it out
The true definition of which
She has never known, never shown
And she will never tell
The only love she has known
Is a living hell
Yet you pass her by
Can you hear her cry?
Don’t deny
What others feel
Don’t avoid
The love that can heal
She needs you
She needs a friend
She doesn’t need money
She doesn’t need men
Show her true love
She has never known
Show her Jesus

3/7/09
Copyright © 2009 Brian Jackson All rights reserved

Silent Killer

You’re about to faint
Breathlessness
Heart beats faster
You have the information
Your finger on the trigger
Surroundings fading
Like looking through a scope
Your hair stands on end
You are the captors hope
Trained for this moment
Silence is tempting you
but screaming to come out
Mesmerized by the moment
Shackled by the costs
One for a thousand?
A million for one?
I decide the denomination
Crucified for the nations
Destinies determined
By one allocation
The right translation?
The proper duration?
Correct observation?
..Now perspiration
Why this vocation?
Should there be a declaration?
What are the implications?
Freedom of thought
But you do what you were taught
You must adhere
No emotions or fear
It is out of your hands
Fulfill your demands
Blood at your feet
They say you’re elite
Back home discreet
The reason for scars
are kept in jars
that break at night
in your dreams where you fight.

3/5/09
Copyright © 2009 Brian Jackson All rights reserved