The Answer

Dream Yet Complete
A Nursery Rhyme for Grown-Ups

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Five: The Answer
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Perhaps to fill the vacuum, that nature does abhor
The story chose this vessel, to be its metaphor
Dueling with the either-or, in land of right or wrong
I, gray matters of the heart, cross common censor’s song
Rhythm technicolors in, the lines that drew this hint
Rock and roll with punches thrown, anger isn’t it

Holding fire, let’s play and seek, the black and whites of lies
Scarcely caught in second’s glance, demand supplied disguise
Nursery rhymes and fairy tales, prince and the prodigal one
Independents intersect, whit and the pendulum
Closer moments shave for truth, Cinco de Mayo meant
“Fireworks!” says Mom’s gold goose, “Skylight, ladies and gents”

Turning cheek to other cheek, exchanges upper hand
With one-two combinations, romantic’s dream is fanned
Syncopate the metronome, tick talking hypno-box
Rowing gently up that stream, good timing keys the locks
Easy as the count to three, that once upon a time
Cast the way our little boats, serve life for petty crime

Abstract finger painted words, to dance the metaphor
Makes the rhyming reason, for those who will explore
Twenty-six, pick-up sticks, word pictures do you see
Common sense, evidence, in conflict do they be
Look the question in the eye, extract what’s make believed
Prism bends the lighted path, like notions preconceived

Then all the king’s horses and men, pick up the pieces again
Almost united they fall, back into flickering REM
Walkers enabled by cane, graceless two-bit program
Adding subtraction divides, rounding up rules in this land
Obvious is obscured, blind-sided by what’s undone
Binary processing hides, punch line shining in sun

Homonym or homophone? Whys seek reconditions
Simile’s analogous, like hows the new reflections?
Paradox parks parallel, meter coined neglections
Parabolic apologue, compliments complexions
Metaphoric metaphors, jumping to convictions
Coat of many clashing colors, fashions sense in questions

Look the question in the mirror, ask in this other’s land
You have two and you see two, most say that means two hands
Some begin a’wondering, take two by two by four
Frame both reference and point, check primal too square lore
Take me for prime example, find in the three by fives
Quicksilver’s imposition, the One kept me alive

Thank goodness jamming session, still rocks there by the shore
Doubt’s reign bowed all the errors, until the great encore
Timid fingers now imprint, relayed across the land
Third-based touchstone signals: Sift! Charms all not understand
Till memory’s first service, returns the right thought left
Sweet blossoming scent from above, to help unwarp the weft

Long ago, far and away, or always somewhere near
Conductor’s instrumental, sends notes to inner ear
Harmonic reconvergence, improvisation’s planned
To amend the broken page, pour melodies from band
Watering the wildest flowers, a second-handed chance
To trade in white-washed paddock walls, for suit and horse and lance

What starry-eyed boy or girl, dressed in grown disguise
Would spend so much time looking up, the ears, nose, throat, and eyes
Pretending to play doctor, while double-checking chokes
“What’s it cost and what’s my change?” the warted toady croaks
What distilled in beating heart, could cease and then resist
This night made for remembering, then good sun’s rising kiss

Look in and out, then all about, what is is what we see
When what’s to be expected, fades in memory
To judge and jury, gallery, respect I do submit
This crime you think me guilty of, that crime I did commit
Your common senseless lessons, I did in fact fit in
Replaced my sense of purpose, The Unoriginal Sin

Wasting time as well as soul, a self-preoccupation
To become part of the hole, a tragic avocation
Ignorance is no excuse, but ignorant I’ve been
Ignorant of everything, I’ve heard and touched and seen
Thinking it reality, but from the point of view
Of everything most everyone, accepts as real and true

But ‘tween the child and the grown-up, imagination grew
Ways and means for eyes to tease, over, around, and through
Crisscrossing reconnections, tap drummer’s little snares
A dot to dash, to energize, reflections the shell wears
Between logic and emotion, between good-night and mourn
The child spun a hiding place, I never knew I’d worn

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<<< Four: The Trial | The Dream >>>

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