Fill your dreams with slumber,

fill your slumber with dreams.

We fill the world with wonder;

we wonder at all it seems.

My mind sometime ripped asunder

with the nightmare visions it streams.

In a summer embroiled in thunder,

which covers the echoes of screams,

will crimes committed for plunder

under Mister Toad’s rising spleen

fail and be legally under

a gun-ship’s cannons a beam?

With lightning the tower is broken,

and the midnight star is token.





About johnsmithiiimxiii

John Smith, IIMXIII is the avatar of an award winning poet, artist, etc. who still lives in the Palouse country of the Pacific NW. He has not received much notice with his prose . . . but as his avatar, I hope that he keeps plugging along.

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