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I had this dream a month ago. Woke up and started my day in a bit of a rush, as I was late for a haircut. I completely forgot about it, not even a wisp. I got to my friend’s salon, sat in the chair, and we began our usual mutual admiration banter.
Then a lady stopped in to visit. In short time, she, like so many around me, said something disparaging about the current US ruler. There it was. This dream in its entirety. Details and feeling. I am so grateful that it returned, and I was not going to forget it again, so I as soon as I got home, I grabbed my journal and put it into a poem. It came fast, and furious. The funnel opened.
Here is the poem and as well as a poem video I created last night on a whim. Just in time for our country’s independence celebrations. In the spirit of peace, love, freedom and truth, I hope you enjoy both. Share it if you feel inspired.
We deserve more love in the world.
Embracing the Incubus
Perhaps it is the odd Vs beneath the big dipper
that make it happen
the ladle spilling out into moonlit rails
like God’s coke
silvery cloud lines laid across the deep blue for snorting
by the demi-rulers cavorting behind my dreams
But there he is
Trump, the boyman
American leader bigly supreme
landing in my slumber
wearing an orange suit, red tie, purple beanie
rattled eyes downcast
scared and desperate
not for advice
but for love
leaving me no choice
but to comfort him
lay down in a dry creek bed
cool, crystalline, soft with moss
lace my arms around him
and rock him like the world’s baby he is
on display, a mirror for our infantile hate
unmet angers, power pushes, money woes
repressed wars within
everything we do not want to acknowledge inside
splayed and spatchcocked
in its gory glory
in this sad psyop human
we lay there together
for hours
orb filtered leaf light
illuminating
the sorrowful shriveled man
crying, lapping up my love
like a baby kitten
or a maybe copper head
most likely both
because I am asleep
and anything can happen
I sooth him
cradle his fears
tell him he is here for a reason
that it is possible
the world will actually change
despite him or because of him
it really does not matter
he says he wants that
that he is trying
then sobs again
buries his head into my chest
convulsing, yowling uncontrollably
long past my ability to console
I hear the call of the assassin
deep in the distance
of his mind
and I slip back into the woods
unnoticed
dark, shimmering, safe
as if I was never there
gunshots in someone else’s dream
mine has no need for riffles and amo
only soft skin, presence
tender voices seeking wholeness
I see the path peaking out from the shadows
and follow it along a shining river
frogs sing me into a clearing
and I welcome the world
no matter
what it brings
blake more © 2025