Archive for November, 2015

MISTER POLITICIAN

Posted: November 10, 2015 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

GOP_Candidates_3751_5166

While watching the Clown debate tonight (Nov. 10) I remembered this song I wrote a few years ago:
  
          MISTER POLITICIAN
          By David Allen

Mr. Politician
I want to tell you
What’s on my mind
All I need is
A few moments of your precious time.

How do you feel
When you hear
All those children crying?
How can you sleep
Knowing there are innocent people dying?

             We want to give you
            All of our trust,
            So please remember
            What you do affects all of us.
 

Mr. Politician
I want to show you
You’re turning blind
All that I need is
A few minutes of your precious time.
 

How can you smile
When you see
Refugees in all those lines?
How can you laugh
When you see
The diseased coughing up their lives?

            We want to give you
            All of our trust
            But you don’t remember
            What you do affects all of us. 
 
Mr. Politician
Would you tell me
What’s on your mind?
All that you need is
A few moments of my precious time.

 How do you love
When you are so
filled with all that burning hate?
Open your heart
It’s a start, before it’s way too late.

             We want to give you
            All of our trust
            But you must remember
            What you do affects all of us.

 Mr. Politician
They want to sell
You some TV time.
And all they need is
A few million dollars and your mind.

 How does it feel
When you hear yourself
And know that you are lying?
And how do you keep
At least one of your two faces from crying?

             We want to give you
            All of our trust
            But we’d fell better
            if you trusted us.
 

lucid-dreaming-mirror

DREAMS
By David Allen

The first dream I remember
was a child’s nightmare.
I was four, maybe five,
and I dreamt I somehow
had crawled through an electrical
wall socket and passed through
to a land of bright, vibrant colors
and eerie cartoon characters
who guided me to a lemonade stand.
I awoke before I could drink the Kool-Ade.

Twenty five years later
I studied how to program
And control my dreams and
embarked on a six-month
re-run of key, important,
character-forming events.
I never interfered with the plot,
but instead approached my
dreamself at the end, shook
his hand and thanked him,
saying, “Now I understand.”
I never went back to those dreams
or repeated the experiment.
I preferred to let them run their course.
It was more fun to float over
the local park late at night,
or drive fast on a winding
mountain road, than to relive
the day I quit the job
at the Styrofoam factory.

Today I still dream randomly,
although some themes repeat –
lost cars, great sex, racing
my car on winding mountain roads.
My dreamself knows it’s all a dream,
but it’s interesting to let them play out,
To see where they go.

Sometimes,
these dreams are
more interesting
than this waking world.