Phantasmagoria A dream Within a Dream...City Streets

Utah JayStarred Page By Utah Jay, 11th Feb 2015 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Poetry

This is a poem about addiction and that world one lives in that awful state, though at times it feels right when to the moon we climb only to fall back down to a world of our own making.

Phantasmagoria a Dream Within a Dream...City Streets


Act One

They come at night,
Pressed from heart beat
And freed of form…My unfenced delusions.
These are that which randomly spill
Through the emptiness inside me, structured
Of my own pen and pad,
Framed within my own mortal mind,
Come these syllableized apparitions …Dreams only closed eyes
And open hearts
Can see and feel.

In the Pale Blue Morning Hours

In the pale blue morning hours
They come
In the rain’s
Arbitrary journey to wrap and tap
On my window panes,
Where looking in
One sees lust and dust,
Copulated reflections
Of another time
That has become lost
And dried
In the under bush of love.

These are the structures,
The ivory towers
Of my wants and needs,

Affections and touch…Desires
That I have failed to feed,
And left cold and deep,
And swelling within me

These are implanted impressions

These are implanted impressions
Of a life gone by,
Seedlings of love and infatuations
Born of another time
And spilling
Through some distant azure consciousness,

Like unspoken words
that have become confused
and lost in prayers
Prayed for the un-holy,

And then pressed
Within a certain narrowness
Of mind and frame…Feelings
That only a sturdy few
Can ever
Wiggle through.

Act Two Outside

Act Two


A weather stained window
The flash of red neon cuts sharply
Through another electric night
Staining the sounds of movement
That echo from below,
The ebb and flow
Of footsteps on concrete,
Cars on the go.

Soon the night will grow
Too cold.
The busy people will go home
And the street people,
The derelicts and winos,
The prostitutes and the addicts

Will crawl from their hiding places.

I watch a Whiskey Voiced Lady

I watch as a whiskey voiced lady
Feels her way through her intoxication
And the old woman on the corner
Watches also, as the inebriated sow
Swims alone through her profanity.

I know this woman, this quiet watcher
Under her lamp post. She sells yellow # 2 pencils
On the city streets, one for a nickel
Three for a dime. An honest living
I think.

I guess,
Some things never change,
As we watch from our protected perch
As the sour juices of another day
Runs beneath the city streets, trickling,
Ever trickling, trying to find a way
From here, or…At the very least,
Be free of us.

Act Three Somewhere

Act Three

pressed tight
Between day and cover of night
Surely some wise men have explored
Under all the stars above,
All the city lights below,
All the dreams, all the love
And all the broken sorrow
As to their meaning
…Their place in line,
Thinking that by God
Someone must know.

And in the last place I look
Beyond this enslaved sliver
Of neon light,
This shattered piece of night
That questions the very core of my soul
For some meaning of passion.
Some reason for my pen on pad

Scribbling out pieces, on top of pieces,
Like leaves laying flat
And folded, and stacked
On the top of other pieces scribbled away

And in some dusty maze
I finally find myself
In a passionless play
Knowing nothing...Feeling nothing.

Act Four Through the Doors

Act Four

Through the doors,
and doors, and doors of me,
Through the cluttered corridors of my mind,
Somewhere beyond the virginity of my heart,
Somewhere below the hollowness of my soul

And somewhere past the whore of my needs
Lives an ancient dream.

A dream that lives in canyons deep,
A dream that between the trees
And glass buildings sleeps
A dream that is timeless, and ageless and yet,
A dream unnoticed by those with cold eyes
Too enameled too see,
And unfelt by those with cold hearts
Too dark too feel,
And unheard by those with deaf ears
Too distant too hear the sound of wind,
The soft songs she sings.

Act Five As it Came to Be

Act Five

And as it came to be
With our little Dorothy,
Who at long last was home again
With her dear old Aunty Emm
In plain old black and white Kansas

And safe and warm was she,
But the dream,
The dream was soon over
Which leaves only her little dog,
Her Toto...Knowing
What is true
And what is fantasy.

Words and photographs by uTAH jAY

Do you too have dreams and fantasies you want to tell the world about? Tell your story on wikinut and get paid doing it.


Addiction, Black And White, Dream World, Dreams, Dreamscene, Fantasies, Fantastic, Fantasy, Heaven And Hell, Neon Lights, Neon Nights

Meet the author

author avatar Utah Jay
I have been writing since the beginning of time it seems, not because I want to write, but because I have too. My favorite form of writing is poetry, all kinds and types of poetry.

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author avatar Carol Roach
11th Feb 2015 (#)

oh my god this is stellar, you need to get this poem published

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author avatar Retired
11th Feb 2015 (#)

How terrible life an addicted person lives, your did a wonderful job, sharing this poem, I hope it helps people stay away from drugs and etc, look what happened to Whitney Houston, and her daughter because of this. Excellent share, Congratulations on this star page!

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author avatar Sivaramakrishnan A
12th Feb 2015 (#)

Dreams can vary in intensity and depth for me. I am mostly relieved to wake up to reality. I think of parallel existence at times. You have captured yours with vivid imagery, thanks Utah Jay for this share - siva

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author avatar viewgreen
12th Feb 2015 (#)

What so wonderful poem to describes the life's which sometimes it's happened among us. Thank you for sharing this awesome poem. :)

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author avatar Shamarie
12th Feb 2015 (#)

Epic!!! I enjoyed this a lot, Utah Jay! Thanks for sharing and congrats on the star page!!!

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author avatar Utah Jay
13th Feb 2015 (#)

Thank you so much Carol, you are so kind.

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author avatar Utah Jay
13th Feb 2015 (#)

Thanks Carmen, I hope so too.

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author avatar Utah Jay
13th Feb 2015 (#)

Thank you Sivar, dreams are funny things.

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author avatar Utah Jay
13th Feb 2015 (#)

Viewgreen you are such a nice soul.

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author avatar Utah Jay
13th Feb 2015 (#)

Thanks Shamarie.

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author avatar SaigonDeManila
14th Feb 2015 (#)

That only a sturdy few
Can ever
Wiggle through."
Powerful and simply hitting the reader's core!

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author avatar Utah Jay
15th Feb 2015 (#)

Thanks Saigon

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author avatar Kingwell
15th Feb 2015 (#)


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author avatar Utah Jay
16th Feb 2015 (#)

Thanks for reading Kingwell.

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