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Tuesday, February 15, 2011

my name ain't Dorothy

my name ain’t Dorothy

i was born in a place
not named Kansas
but on the same planet
and yet,
though there was many differences between Dorothy and i
the similarities were vast

who can deny
or defy the screams
emanating from the Soul
yes there were dreams
with those screams
and it seems
that the light beams of fruition
just move seditiously too slow
you know
don’t you ?

somewhere in this complexity
of convexing realities
of Time and Space
the sublime faces
of contexuality
become a chameleon
to yet disguise truth
from the like of all . . .
and aloof we remain
in this inane plane
of the “Sane”?

observant or not
in this dimensional spot
all we got
is what we believe
and we are free to conceive it as we choose
for perplexingly we are the winners
and the losers as well
but who was suppose to tell us

like grapes on Grandma’s Trellis
we just hang around
waiting to be plucked from the vine
consumed i assume
devoid of our once regal blooms
we fall to the ground
and return from whence we come
is this the sum of this journey

Dorothy asked questions as well
ones that were perhaps unjustifiable
you know
like “why am i here?”
“what have i come to do?”
“why is the Road made of Brick?
and “why yellow?
“where is this Magical Emerald City
and the witty Wizard
who can enact the fact
that i do not belong here?”
and “who are these strange fellows
who want to tag along?”
like a Girl Scout Cookie Sale
leaning on my emotions
to evoke me to participate
in their quizzical quest
for a Heart
a Brain
and Courage
seeking as well
to be their best

lest we forget
yes the journey seems unending
and i need me a nap
and i tire
for the fire of my desires continually burns
as we take turns being vigilant
and i have no Ruby Red Slippers

but there is no field of Poppies or Daisies
for my  unlazy and fertile dreaming self to sleep it off
sleep it off
and i scoff
at the myriad of possibility
within this dream
and ability seems to elude my embrace
so i delude “Self”
or Self deludes me

and this appears to be the epitome
of the “free”
and we still hold on to lofty hopes
of some Wizard
to deliver us
from our proverbial “Self”
and like an Elf
walking in the Land of Giants
i remain defiant
to what they teach me to be reliantly true
how about you ?

Now that i think about it
perhaps it was those Poppies
in the Field of my Dreams
perhaps i tarried a bit too long
and the song of my Soul became Lucid
once again
and came to realize
that “i” am my own best friend
and that “I” i see in you
resides in me
and all the Glendas
and the ToTos
and the Auntie Ems
are the Gems
in this journey

but then again . . .

my name ain’t Dorothy

© 15 February 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

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