“ Dream Merchants ” – be not what they seem –

The merchants of dream

Are not what they seem,

Hence I caution beware

If ye chance let them in,

Apathetic to a risky dare

Know exploit they within,

As dream merchants play

So to get neath your skin,

Till trapped made to stay…

 

Of their dreams be alert

Tho you might judge fair,

They’ll distort and divert

As you indulge their spin,

What’s at stake be aware

You may find but chagrin,

And a pawn for their fare…

 

Ye soon find be soul bare

Tho merchants find grin,

At feed of deviant affairs

Best not chance ye begin,

For wise ought avoid airs

Of the narcissistic strings,

Held to keep you unaware

Of dreams ne’er fated fair…

 

Dream merchants shroud

They but sell their hot air,

Fake fine weather clouds

And what gullible bears,

Of ne’er ending sunshine

During hurricane seasons…

 

Their dreams of effusion

Suggest wouldst be real,

Are but empty illusions

With an unfulfilled zeal,

When too late to discover

Soul they managed steal,

As self crafted merchants

Of dreams meant disappear!

                                                                 a dedication to vivid imaginations,

                                                                        in search of honesty and meritocracy…

                                                  © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

 

“ Sway ” ~ just enough ~

Sway

Just enough

To give hope a ray,

Sway

A bit more

To let me find

The way,

Sway

Then again,

To so compose

You’d have me stay,

Sway

Fate might fix

Life be with love

More than a day,

Sway

To find share

Destined replete

Be criteria’s fare,

Sway

Life be free

Of bent aspirants,

And political tyrants,

Sway

Alas man finds

Give life to dreams,

Barring nightmare,

If incubi, succubi be there

For ones held pleasures!

 

“ An Angel ” ~ not a seraphim ~

 

He’d found an angel

No not a seraphim,

Angelic eyes to chin

Evolved of cherubim,

Her lascivious mouth

And all points south

Even below her shins,

Taunts taste her skin,

So propitious this angel

Be not adverse to sin…

 

An angel without wings

Made of earthly things,

Embodied in a curvature

Of unholy grace that sings,

As her hypnotic pelvis

Glides softly to the rhythm,

Of a slow languorous swing,

In an angel’s surreal swim…

                                                                                                        

He’ll not forget or nay neglect

The beauty of perfection’s set,

‘Twould drive a man to yield

So to succumb he must,                 

Thus too a gluteus maximus

Fixed in her goddess limbs,

Hence to arouse tormenting lust                                      

As he awakes therein,

Alas to find ‘twas but a dream

That turned his lust to dust,

And the butt of seraph’s oscitant grin!

 

“ Shovelling Clouds ” ~ for dreams he dares ~

 

He’s not immune

To implausible dreams,

Those he dares

Meant be so bold,

He’ll forego care

They’re not in tune,

To imaged notions

Of man-made reason,

For his give life

To every season…

Shovelling clouds

He clears a path

Thru stayed emotions,

That but dictate

One ought fear life

Of dreams that urge

We build a world

With clouds of wonder,

Thus so forsaking

Man’s dreary rituals,

He’ll shovel clouds

To so lay bare

The dreams he dares!           Ode to Denis C