Renovated Dream

Renovated Dream

I’m living in a renovated dream.
Walls come tumbling down before my eyes.
Rose-coloured glasses wash away the theme
of ‘tangerine trees and marmalade skies’.
Gone is the porter, that plasticine man.
Gone from his station of gainful employ.
Gone is the dog-mouse with rice-paper plan.
So too the drummer, that blue-eyed boy.
Gone are those characters, lucid and bright.
Gone with the pictures on ‘green-pepper walls’
with ‘everything emptying into white…’
Gone from my reaching; ignoring my calls.
. I’m living in a renovated dream.
. Devoid of pattern, of colour and scheme.

© Tim Grace, 9 July 2013


To the reader: Through my teenage years I was drawn to lyrics that conjured-up slightly distorted visual images. Masters of the art (John Lennon, Cat Stevens, etc.) wrote convincingly between believable and plausible lines; avoiding a shift onto tracks of complete nonsense. As in vector-distortions the original image is never lost, simply stretched to entice attention. As in camouflage, clever-mimicry replaces the truth. As in this sonnet I’m living in a renovated dream…what is that?

To the poet: In some forms of deception the skilled-expert successfully arrests disbelief. The magician, the con-man and the poet all use the same ploy of managing expectation. Within bounds, an audience will allow a degree of contrived replacement. As long as the augmentation doesn’t break too many rules that contortion (otherwise that mistake) is overlooked; enjoyed as different.


Renovated Dream

Renovated Dream
Picture Sources:
1. http://youtu.be/YSq270lUuZE
2. http://youtu.be/kea0ghm7Z4E

Enough of Words

Enough of Words

Not all that I write is to be read, you see.
Lift your eyes from this page. Enough of words.
They talk of freedom; speak of liberty.
They are tethered, tarred and feathered. As birds,
these words are clipped; pressed into pagination.
Nothing more than flightless words, all a-flap
with instinct; pinions of agitation.
Unwitting conscripts with wings under wrap;
press-ganged, enlisted into servitude,
perched on parchment and anchored to the page;
gripped too tight, stripped of height and altitude,
flattened, compressed of colour, dressed in beige.
. Heavied with the weight of purpose words die,
. They can not sing, they can not dance; nor fly.

© Tim Grace, 14 April 2013


To the reader: The beautiful lyrics of John Lennon’s ‘Across The Universe’ relate to transcendental expression. The lyrics’ relationship to meaning is through soaring imagery not literal comprehension. The song has been crafted to fly. As an aerodynamic masterpiece the internal arrangements are light with adherence to rules that overcome gravity with blissful ease.

To the poet: John Lennon’s recollection of writing ‘Across The Universe’ is instructive in understanding the uplifting power of poetry. The song began as a grounded response to being caged; captured and contained. Through a meditative process, it seems the lyrics became cathartic; they transcended his pent-up anger and delivered instead a peaceful state of mind.  Until his next rant, at least…


Enough of Words Enough of Words
Picture Source:
1.

2. http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Across_the_Universe#Composition