Bittersweet Visions

We all dream about different lives, our own may be good but we still have romanticised ideas of other lives. A poem about one man’s Journey through many lives and the consequences

Lying between the comforting sheets of my palace room prison

I can’t help but imagine a thousand different lives

A thousand different me’s

Lived through a thousand different souls

 

In the land of the free

I traverse it’s memorable roads, alleys, deserts and lakes

With the travelling circus

Seamlessly becoming one of the freaks

With far-fetched ideas of lives more splendid than their own

 

All over Asia I travel alone

With qualification to mold the young minds of tomorrow

Enduring the vicious whippings of the eastern sun

In a straw hat �" my only protection I teach English to the young-lings

Prospering in both wealth and spiritual enlightenment

 

Down under, I find no other option but to dig my soft hands into the dirt of this overwhelming country �" serene beauty that drives the sloth off my back and shoves ants down my throat

No Bop not my kinda nightlife, overpriced and cheap

Except the continuous presence of Dingo and Kangaroo

 

Aboard a cruise liner �" I play Manilow, Elvis and Dino

The karaoke loves me, so do the old ladies

Back to work, accepting the role of their borrowing thief

Capturing a perfect moment in their lives

Handing it back only when I am repaid

 

Mimicking everyone’s pal

I play doctor on my motorcycle

Treating all the pueblo of the Latin lands

Kicking up a revolution

I gun down the oppressors

Heal the innocent

And bask in the reverence of these squalor misfortune

 

Dusting off another inspirational tale from the Beat king

I head out to the road

In a back alley club with buddies

I embrace Benzedrine hallucinations of God sweating over a sax

His white eyes fixed my way, blessing me and only me

Leaving the Frisco rain for Florida sun

Crying at Sundance to sleeping on the floor of Grand Central Station

Enough words to fill a collection I put down the bottle, needle and tea

And on my way out, I watch the 50’s die with rock n roll not too far behind

 

Concert upon concert

Naked apelike dancing in the mud

My veins coursing with the colors of the rainbow

This is the great age of true rock

The spiritual rock, the all-powerful rock and roll

For two days I worship

And on the third I watch Jimi

That black Jesus with his third arm entrancing me

 

I fantasize my nuclear family in the form of immigrants in black suits, Catholics and ruthless

They make deals, promises and exact favors

Confidently walking the floors of The Xanadu

I’ll take care of it, Don’t worry about it and forget about it

The cigars taste good, the wine and the woman even better

This is truly the age of excess

 

Adventure leads me to settle down with fame and wealth

In my luxurious house, with my magnificent life

My holy grail placed before me one midsummer’s night

The perfect Job to start the perfect life

I join the fortunate, the privileged

The greats at Rolling stone

What more could a aspiring writer ask for

 

We always wake up at the best part

With a wry smile, I find these dreams leave

A sweet sensation that realism will soon evaporate

 

I stick my hand in my pants

The only way to prolong the pleasure

A sad satisfaction

The consequences will be grimmer

 

But until my mind ends these bittersweet visions

I have no other way to find my kicks