Damaged Dreams

I have had this recurring dream

It has plagued me since fourteen.

In it, all I hear are my mother’s screams

Some things are better left unseen.

She’s begging me to look away

Trying to keep me innocent

Just for one more day,

But I can smell the scent

Of smoke, blood and gasoline

I feel like I’m in a movie scene.

I keep staring straight at the rubble

Of the building facing our own,

Hoping we’re safe in our little bubble,

Praying the jets will leave us alone.

The dream doesn’t really have an ending:

just an image of my inner child fading.

Lately, I’ve been having a different dream

Where I’m staring into a machine

at little blue thumb-ups on a screen.

There’s a video of a politician

Saying exactly what he means

The world is green, the air is clean.

He preaches love, kindness and serenity

And all of Earth’s beings enjoy prosperity.

I wake up from my hallucinations

To missiles, gun fights, executions

Humans will want what they do not need

They are but victims of their own greed.

Now that I am finally awake,

I understand what is at stake

The blue fingers point to a virtual sky

I wave to the little girl in my dream: goodbye.

Wheel War

Their small legs twirl rapidly,

Muscles pushing their two-wheeled vehicles

Speeding with vitality and joy

The road is boundless

Possibilities are endless.

On the opposite side of the Earth,

another street is being destroyed.

There are no side-walks here,

Only land mines to avoid;

And the relentless screams of fighter jets

Pollute the atmosphere.

Fear is a pervading smell

A perpetual instinct:

Fight or perish.

In a parallel moment,

the tiny bikers

Make a wish

Blow a dandelion.

The seeds disperse,

Achieving freedom.

The two young spirits

Cuddle up into their warm beds

And kiss their loving parents good night.

In War World, a lone child grasps

His mother’s lifeless hand.

Tears stream onto her body:

He just lost the last possibility.

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