Schnoodler
Ice Cream Abuser
- Joined
- Nov 12, 2008
- Messages
- 6,994
- Reaction score
- 2
- Points
- 36
What kind of a sick twisted mind writes poetry in his dreams.
Yet there as sure as the blue/green of the LED display I awoke at 3:45 with this:
Was it was?
I heard it clear.
Still echoing.
Calls
Of anglels singing
Never truer nor clear
Still the echo
I carry dear
Now I sing loud
Such dreams had I
Under shine or drear
Call this loud
Know thy words
Sing with truth of a hundred year
I have no idea what it all means, only that it was there and needed to be here.
Now I must go back to bed. Perhaps when I wake some wise dream analyst will have deciphered it for me.
Yet there as sure as the blue/green of the LED display I awoke at 3:45 with this:
Was it was?
I heard it clear.
Still echoing.
Calls
Of anglels singing
Never truer nor clear
Still the echo
I carry dear
Now I sing loud
Such dreams had I
Under shine or drear
Call this loud
Know thy words
Sing with truth of a hundred year
I have no idea what it all means, only that it was there and needed to be here.
Now I must go back to bed. Perhaps when I wake some wise dream analyst will have deciphered it for me.