Saturday, May 22, 2010

Kimbo Does Modern Dance

This post needs to be prefaced with I have been sick all week, which means my sleeping patterns are jacked, I am not getting full R.E.M. sleep because I keep being woken up by my inability to breathe, and this weekend I am watching my roommates dogs which further complicates the sleeping arrangements, as they prefer to sleep wherever the humans are, ergo my bed...but wait that is not comfortable, let me jump down and chill on the floor, no wait maybe if I go back up he'll forget I was just up there and pet me, wait was that a my real master home, let me sniff under this door, loudly, for about 15 minutes to see if I can smell Jeff. This cyclical movement continued for a good 2 hours, until finally both dogs were in bed with me, Jazz at my feet and Blu laying like we were an item.

Around 3:27 my eyes cracked open, not sure if it was the inability to breathe or the need to release the 8 glasses of water a day, but I had these vivid images sitting on my occipital lobe, well I assume that is where they were, possibly in transition from the suprachiasmatic nucleus, who knows. The point is I was dreaming. I have been blessed with rock like sleeping patterns (and a fair amount of sleep deprivation), so I rarely remember my dreams. However, this was right there and lucid. The room was this poorly lit dance studio I remember from Lindenwood, the dancers were three faceless females and Kimbo Slice, yeah like UFC fighter, backyard brawler, Kimbo. They were working on a piece that was choreographed to poem I was reading. I kept finishing the poem before the movement was done, so I was trying to explain to Kimbo that he was like the kick drum, and I should be following him, not him trying to follow me. That's about the moment when consciousness kicked in.

Alright for this weeks poetry the assignment came from another The Absinthe Road post. We were to create something based on a song or instrument or something musical that inspires us, so I took a line from my favorite song, 3am by Edwin McCain and I went with it.

I'm awake and my heart is still dreaming

And my heart
My heart dreams two dreams
Great id inspired fantasy
Packed amphitheater
Sweat stings eyes
Blurs vision
Blue wash on stage
As floods hit sea of bodies
Bonded by movement and moment
Final chord strummed
And picks passed out to faint declarations of love
Then shuffled off to buses with waiting engines
For a night of road hum and restless sleep
Eyes opened to Groundhog Day
Another venue
Another adoring audience
Another moment of Self-Actualization
You who wakes me with Eskimo kisses and sticky fingers
Whose “Daddy” I could distinguish in a ocean of voices
You who looks like your mother but has my intense eyes
You who sings before conversational skills have been achieved
And dances with complete freedom at the slightest sound of music
Crawls into my chair wanting nothing more than to be beside me
Begs for stories before bed
Fighting sleep to hear me do the Queen’s voice
Your giggles rock you to sleep
Tucked in I return to my big boy bed
Kiss your mother sweetly
Seek peace behind God given veils
Eyes open to Groundhog Day
Eskimo kisses
Sticky Fingers
“Daddy it’s time to play”

Hope everyone had a great week...

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