Dream No.238 Poem by Ken Martin

I.
The Past, its now rarely being visited.
Just like old newspaper that
Nobody reads, except for a few words,
Whichever will catch one's attention.

Those few words have been important
Before...Now, they are meaningless
Words whose worth have been swallowed up
By the tremendous tidal waves of Time.

II.
Oh, what great destruction that tsunami did
On the beach, called Past, where I used to live.
Everywhere, bits and scraps of memory lay scattered
There were paper roses, restaurant bills, liquor bottles, cheap lighters,

Cigarette butts, movie tickets, safety helmets, tissue paper,
Paint brushes, guitar strings, key chains, candy wrappers,
Handkerchiefs, photographs, and so many others!
Oh, what a mess it was for the Past!

I did not have the energy to clean it all up,
So I turned my back and walked away,
Promising to myself not to return
Until the waters of Time have cleaned up that dirty bay.

III.
As I traveled away from that vile coast,
I came across an enormous cave.
On the walls, there were ancient writings,
And there was music inside being played.

I lived inside that subterranean home
Just reading the writings on the wall,
And listening to that hypnotic music
Echoing through that dark hall.

I heard the Killers were going to play;
That was when I remembered her,
The black cat Princess of my dreams!
I shouted her name, she just heard a whisper.