Dreaming, dreaming

A Poem by Anorien Isilme

A cynical view of the world.

Dreaming, dreaming…

I dreamed a terrible dream.

I dreamed people laid waste to homes.

Mothers lost children,

Children lost parents,

Fathers beat mothers,

Parents abused children.

Children felt helpless.

Husbands lied,

Wives were cheated,

The families shattered.

Human instinct took over,

The island grew primal,

And all the Simon's

Had to be buried together.

Dreaming, dreaming…

I dreamed of weapons.

Nuclear and biological,

Firearms and technological.

One slightest movement out of line

Tipped all dominoes to fall.

Bigger bullies fought smaller bullies,

For nothing more

Than perceived control

Over the playground.

Bullets ricocheted off random bodies,

Indulgences for the evils

That pulled the trigger.

Dreaming, dreaming…

I dreamed of a machine,

Whose cogs were designed

To forever turn in darkness.

Never to advance,

Never to see the fruits of its labor;

Which went to the engineers,

Few of whom showed real care for the gears.

Most were greedy

For more Money,

Power,

Position,

Status,

Authority,

Luxury,

And all else the magical machine produced.

It had been overlooked. I saw

It would not tolerate abuse any longer.

Dreaming, dreaming…

Of infinite garbage

That filled the air,

Muddied the water,

Killed off the animals, and

Caused disease.

The waste spread on

Endlessly.

Nowhere to put it,

No one to clean it,

Nowhere to hide it,

No one to ignore it.

Dreaming, dreaming…

The dream was awful

And I woke in a sweat,

Like I had been running

From the horrors of my dream.

For it wasn’t a dream,

No, not even

More accurately,

A nightmare.

And I can no longer

Simply close my eyes

Dreaming, dreaming away…

© 2016 Anorien Isilme

Author's Note

Not sure where this came from...

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Featured Review

Ashwin Shanker

If this was really a dream... I empathise with you for finding it hard to sleep again.
I loved the way it is presented. The rawness of it. The simpleness of it.

"Bullets ricocheted off random bodies,
Indulgences for the evils
That pulled the trigger."

I was able to picturise this... Effective in bringing a sense of helplessness... A dread.

The waste spread on
Endlessly.
Nowhere to put it,
No one to clean it,
Nowhere to hide it,
No one to ignore it.

This is another stanza which has been wonderfully presented. Lovely work.