Captain Kunwilliger's Boat
A two-dollar chump
in a three-dollar world,
A shoelace in search of a shoe,
I need to “remember
to check the mail,”
Which often is rare
for me to do.
(Remember that is!)
I don’t really want
to check it right now,
I’m tired, half-naked
and lying in bed,
But sleeping and dreaming
do separate me,
From checking the mail
in the morning instead.
I’m tense because
I’ll probably fail,
For too much can happen
while sleep intervenes.
Far too much
distracting reacting,
Can follow a
series of dreams.
So when I awaken to
head off to work,
who knows what things
I’ll be thinking;
perhaps of the strange
concoctions that I,
last night on some
planet was drinking,
or maybe of Captain
Kunwilliger’s boat,
I may have dreamt
into a sinking!
(Anything, prob’ly,
except for the mail,
That I may have seen
in that eight-hour-blinking.)
Why must my body be
found in this place,
when what truly defines
me is gone,
elsewhere in realms
of time or of space,
that use me to
build them a swan,
with purple wings,
the icy air stings,
like a proud little
prince on his pond?
What am I doing
on one little rock,
When an infinite playground surrounds,
Beckoning everything
real in me,
To tread forth to uncharted grounds?
Why do my eyes
continually open,
to trace what’s
already been seen,
when things of a far
greater interest reside,
inside of the motioning
in between?
Why do all these hollow colors,
still try to convince me,
they’re blue or they’re green?
They tell me I haven’t
the vaguest trace,
or faintest allusion
to common sense,
that I am of ovine
that bred in a place,
just past the safety
inside of their fence.
If they are correct,
then why can’t I leave,
to find the place where I belong?
If that is the truth
than where is the land,
supposedly singing superior song?
This body imprisons
me mercilessly,
this plane of existence
is one giant tomb,
keeping me back from
living Real Life,
since first I was
forced from a womb,
and though its borders
are seemingly endless,
I’m certain there’s
not enough room!
I can’t survive here any longer,
can’t breathe, believe or partake!
Its people are puppets on phantom-like strings!
Its planets are cardboard and fake!
I have to move onto the next one,
though there still I shall not claim stake!
'Til finally I’m able to feel inside,
something besides this perpetual ache!
We live to breed, pay bills and die?
Come on people, give me a break!
Doubting no more that this can be done,
than ever before did I that I’d fail,
I will tonight, delve deep in our dreams,
past all of what floats in reality’s pail,
until I reach the bucket’s bottom,
only to pierce it with fingernail,
wherefrom I will leave human knowledge behind,
with history, to start a fresh tale,
so if it suits your fancy, my friend,
you take the time to check on my mail!
For tonight in abysms I’ll travel,
beside aberrations that float,
perhaps as a speck of frozen debris,
on the deck of Captain Kunwilliger’s boat,
but I will not stay in a dream’s tired sea,
nor even as close as its beautiful moat;
so long to these beams pretending to glow,
I have to go...
I have to go...
