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The poor man’s dream,
had, wealthy fields, at night,
but, nightmares, unserene,
flashed, their toothy bite.
The wealthy field of green,
silkwormed notions white,
and golden rays that gleam,
are trapped, in horseshoes, tight,
glued, under, farrier’s seam,
they yearn, for a rasp, of light.

The luscious grass, turned, hay,
is chewed, and, swallowed down,
by equine guts; decayed,
that, delect in poor men’s frowns.
The neigh-saying, nagging, bray,
is heard, for miles around,
the dark sky, cried, “Mayday!”
Rains lashed, the colour brown,
and, with nothing left to say,
dreams, in fawn puddles, drowned.

The nightmares, let loose,
come from, a deviled stable,
and, the farriers, in use,
sit at, the highest table,
looking down, at all, produced,
they smith, each, and, every, fable,
to fit, losing, and, winning shoes,
to hooves, that trample, and, disable.
Until, they finally, wrap the noose,
to necks, that succumb, to cable.

With no wealth, of which to speak,
to dream, or ponder, now, in death,
his body lay barren, like, the field of dreams,
his soul has no need, for worldly wealth,
farriers, and, nightmares, trot, and, creep,
to find, the poor man’s, hidden self,
he ascends, to paradise’s foggy breach,
climbs lion’s, cloudy manes, there, met,
with a roar, to farrier, and, nightmare, each,
now, free, he howls,

“Your devilish search beset,
for unbridled wealth,

will; end you,

in unaccounted debt!!!”

© poormansdreams

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