Blog Archives - Mike De Moor

Daydream Nation

3/12/2020

Don't fall asleep
in daydream nation,

In the land of illusions
You can't see the mirrors,

Find words so true
Your soul can feel it,
Your lips can taste it,
Your eyes hide inside it.

Look around,
It's all inside you,
Reflections and refractions
Through projection and distraction.

Souls surround you
In so familiar a sequence,
Angels come to guide you,
Demons start inside you.

Don't fall asleep
in daydream nation,

You got a scratch you can't itch?
Yeah, me too.

Walk around without focus,
Get lost in the ether,
A soul needs a cradle,
Sleep flat on the floor.

Look all around you-
We're kids looking for answers,
Wide-eyed we wander
Through a circus of shadows.

Souls surround you
In so familiar a sequence,
A friend when you're lonely,
A snake in the desert.

Don't fall asleep
in daydream nation,

On the physical plane
I'm doped up in the angles.

Think you found yourself something?
You got something that's yours?
Watch it slide through your fingers,
Slip off your shaking hand.

Look left and then right,
Focus and unfocus,
Light stands and it dances,
Watch it shine and then shiver.

Souls surround you
In so familiar a sequence,
Your mother once your child,
Your father once your brother.

Don't fall asleep
in daydream nation,

Some nightmares last lifetimes,
Trap doors on the path.

Sickness will find you,
Call it a cancer of the spirit,
In your dreams you'll see it,
Watch it creep behind you.

Look up and then down,
You're chained in both directions,
Cycles of balance and imbalance
Tethered by promises and hexes.

Souls surround you
In so familiar a sequence,
Mystics line up to guide you,
Madman distract you in plain view.

Don't fall asleep
in daydream nation,

In the land of illusions
You can't see the mirror.

You got a scratch you can't itch?
Yeah, me too.

The Mountainside

3/12/2020

From time to time,
Ideas tend to combine
in my brain’s circuit’s.

All the facts and titles
quickly come to mind,
I can efficiently calculate numbers
in a quicker than average time,
I recall the states and capitals
With a relative, yawning ease,
Along with the names of criminals
And the symptoms of each common disease,
I adhere to the laws of traffic,
Remember how to turn on the TV,
Recite my favorite movie lines
with absolute accuracy.

With few exceptions,
My body tends
to function properly.

Each breath comes out slowly,
I tap my foot to an even beat,
Stand up straighter than I used to,
And smile at everyone I meet,
My muscles contract and then release
as I make my casual motions,
I wash my hair and scrub my face
and top it off with lotion,
My heart it tends to read and react,
My feet maintain an even stride,
My ears seem sharper than most,
And I can see all the things that nowhere tries to hide.

From time to time,
I become lost
in recollection.

I remember every pearl
And I remember every smile,
A fair portion of my firsts,
Even if it’s been a while,
I relive the moments of absolute failure,
And the ones of triumph too,
Stretches of self-destructive discomfort,
Those never-ending days of feeling blue,
Shame still sleeps in my moments of deceit,
Like that ugly, restless feeling that hangs around defeat,
And though I’ve slowly been wishing farewell to regret,
I’ll never truly be free from the shackles of its debt.

It should be a bigger deal to everyone
That kids go to sleep hungry,
Why’d we break out country into states
And our states into counties?
Why are we itching to draw lines?
Why do we put people in boxes?
In the woods the living roam free,
No distinction between coyotes and foxes,
Why can’t we be a little fuckin’ kinder?
We all got an illness we can’t cure,
We’ve all fallen asleep at the wheel,
Taken in chains by a chemical blur.

From time to time,
I forget that
I need other people.

In a tense conversation of personal defense,
I found myself a truth previously unknown,
It just found its way out,
Like a bloodhound finds its way home,
It wasn’t so much the words,
But the thought they put together,
Strange how a sentence can put you at ease,
Guess that’s why people believe in heaven,
Selfish has always riddled my wires,
I get lost in self-reflective analysis,
But somewhere out in the desert,
I was swept inside a lonesome abyss,
The mind doesn’t flower without an idea,
It needs a spark to ignite its understanding,
But even if you’re glued to the underground
You can still hear the bird’s sing.

From time to time,
   Things align,
       Intertwine,
           Amplify
               and
                   Magnify
           Dream   upon        the       mountainside
In my mind.

Time’s never going to be the straightest of all lines,
We fucked that up and no one fell off the end of the Earth,
So, what’s yesterday got in store?
Who’s shining their shade into my daydream?
What’s it like on the razor’s edge?
Why do I keep sleeping on the couch
When I have such a comfortable bed?

It’s all out of order, man,
You disappointed yourself before you did it,
All of this happened in a blast,
And now we’re stuck here living it.

Maps of Our Minds

3/12/2020

Some people like to think that life
is a one-way road to the grave,
Just a first-class ticket
to eternity among the worms.
   I don’t really blame them.
But I,
In my longing and searching nature,
Without an idea of God within
or heaven above,
Like to think of life
as a collection of intersecting,
winding country roads
out in the hinterlands of Idaho,
A finite cobblestone path
in every imaginable variation;
Some smooth,
Some bumpy,
Some patterned,
Some patterned poorly.

Along the road are
   Strategically-placed gas stations
   in unknown locations--
       Sometimes you catch them
       before you hit empty
       and
       sometimes you get stuck in one place,
           And it takes all your strength,
           All your faith,
           To drag your weight
           to the oil pumps of hope.
On the road
you can’t help but notice
the abandoned vehicles,
   Covered in rust,
   Fractured and scarred;
       Some stare at the crash
       longer than they should.

Some days conditions are pleasant,
Others are riddled with storms
of on and off fog,
Baseballs of hale looking for your skull,
Ice lining the edges of the road,
Smoking mirages that don’t need heat.

Sometimes the road seems hopeless,
But how we handle the weather determines our fate.

As I’ve traveled these trails,
I’ve come to believe
that this has all happened before,
And the direction to clarity
lives deep within our minds,
Sending signals and feelings down our spines
when danger creeps closer,
But it’s all out of order,
As our thoughts
are never fixed
to a point
on a line.

How often do we remember the future?
How many dreams have I placed among the past?
How do
the dark
and
the light
slice through
all the dimensions
in every direction
of the maps of our minds?

Sometimes I remember the future
and
Place my dreams among the past.

No Daydream Can Meet the Moonlight

3/12/2020

I jumped on a plane
that was only fit for two,
the ride there was with the pilot,
the ride back was supposed to be with you,
the takeoff was clean,
the route was indirect,
we bounced off stars,
hitting our favorite constellations,
tracing them with red smoke,
and just as we were about to land
we rode off into the sunset instead
and I never met you
at the underground station.

I rode shotgun on a train
that runs only on the wind’s tracks,
holding a gun three times the side of me,
   knock my head off clean,
so I can ride through the tunnels,
the traffic of the clouds
just in time to reach you
as the headless mystery of your dreams.

I took off running
into a cloud of mist
that I figured you were at the end of,
I stopped to look around twice,
saw a man with a hat that covered his eyes
and he exposed his black teeth with laughter;
   asked me if he could have a bite.

Then I saw a dark angel
   with powdered cheeks
   and a pale complexion
   wings of feather
   soft as sandpaper
   and I became glued
   to her coarse affection.

I got tired of my shadow always moping around,
so I jumped straight down,
   breaking the ground,
looked up and saw my shadow
       following me down,
he said
“you can try to hide
but there’s no escaping the light”
   and I knew then
   what I have known ever since:
No daydream can meet the moonlight,

I met you at the underground station an hour late, but you were always happy to see me.

State School, Commuter College Blues

3/12/2020

I’m the owner of two judging eyes,
A restless pair of feet,
Some sharp hip bones,
A bunch of white teeth,
A wide mouth,
Two small, soft hands,
A couple of gangly legs,
Thin arms I left someone draw on,
A left to right part in my brown hair,
And a jagged pair of cheek bones.

The beautiful girls love to photograph themselves
and the girls with baggage film themselves fucking
and the boys with white teeth dog all the chicks
and the girls with good dads find a boy who won’t dog them
and the dogs bark at anything that stumbles by.

The girls who envy Marilyn Monroe dream of finding Kennedy
and the girls with no self esteem shoot to be Maggie Gyllenhaal
and the boys with no confidence sit around at home
and the boys who want to be rock stars stare at their eyes in the mirror
and the kids play ball out in the street.

The winds blow so freely through your hair
and the moon paints something perfect on your skin
and the gloom puts thickness in your eyelashes
and the smell you carry holds me tight
and the mind would feel less if it knew more.

The sensitive kids become overly internal
and the outspoken princes get their noses broken
and the sexy chicks with annoying voices moan like the Sirens
and the high school outcasts never forgive their oppressors
and the wind blows the drifters from place to space.

The frat kids drug the fresh meat with a chemical infused juice
and the fresh meat regret wearing such short dresses
and the pleasure addicts just say they live in the moment
and the sorority girls are just begging for your eyes
and the proud fathers hold their daughter’s hands as they walk them into school.

I have a laundry list of complaints:
a bad past,
a jealous mind,
an obsession with pleasure,
a broken heart,
a number of mistresses,
an empty wallet,
a wandering mind,
a fragmented soul
and a flare for the dramatic.

The homeowners have to cut their lawns every weekend
and the kids who don’t fuckin’ care never shave their pubes
and the girls who’re whipped grow landing strips on command
and the alcoholic’s son always takes the biggest sips
and the little boys dream of growing up and being just like dad.

The kindergarten teacher digs dominatrix
and the basketball coach is mixing his medicines
and the sister is sneaking someone in the side door
and the grandparents are hooked on Percocet
and the lady at the bank always gives a good smile.

You never seem to stick around,
and I’m not sure I want you to,
and I don’t think I can take care of an angel,
and I don’t want to keep fucking with your mind,
and I can’t figure out what keeps fucking with mine.

The girls who envy Marilyn Monroe cry themselves to sleep after bad days
and the girls with no self esteem spread their legs to mask their sorrow,
and the boys with no confidence make friends on the computers,
and the boys who want to be rock stars scoff at everyone who doesn’t like punk rock
and the handsome little boys take walks in the evening with their mothers.

The beautiful girls dress themselves in the last fashion,
and the girls with baggage talk shit about the girls they think are prettier than them.
and the boys with white teeth live in fancy flats,
and the girls with white teeth walk their boys on leashes,
and the cats cry hysterically when you try to put a leash around their necks.

I’m looking for something eternal,
anything that lasts longer than a pair of shoes,
something to lend my lips to,
anything that sees the way I do,
something to replace my highs,
anything that doesn’t run on batteries,
something to let me sing in key,
anything with an original melody,
something that won’t twist and spin it,
anything to quiet the cynic.

Defeat Just Hanging Around

3/12/2020

I’ve been downhearted,
There’s something in me that feels defeated.

I’ve been sitting behind waterfalls,
Covering myself in movement,
All the while standing still
With revenge in my blueprint,
I’ve been crawling on my feet,
Keeping pace with half steps,
Slurring out simple melodies
Like an owner whistling to its pet,
I’ve eaten shots at my pride,
Ingesting them with chipped teeth,
Chewed my tongue so long
Just to swallow what I bleed.

I’ve been downhearted,
There’s something in me that feels defeated.

There’s always someone waiting around
Just to steal my own glory,
Making my shortcomings their strengths
Using manipulated stories,
There’s always something watching me
Through the utmost naked eye,
You can fool yourself many times
but your conscience never lies,
There’s usually something nagging me,
Holding my instinct down,
It may be keeping me from a fall,
But it’s leaving me underground.

I’ve been downhearted,
There’s something in me that feels defeated.

I’ve learned to be righteous in my mystery,
Giving only what needs to be seen,
To keep from shooting flies
With a gun that’s too heavy.

I’ve been downhearted,
But I have yet to be defeated.

Relief

3/12/2020

He disappeared as he wrote it…

   Bones piercing through this rotting skin,
   A pair of switchblades for elbows
       Stabbing at each bend,
   His eyes an ocean of cataracts,
   His teeth dripping from his gums,
   His few remaining hairs cloaked in grease,
   His clothes drenched in venom,
   His bare feet twisted blue,
   His spine curved in makeshift design,
   His veins shining like summer-sky tattoos,
   His face painted grim by a serrated jaw line…

But his mind maintained its rhythm,
The words sliding through a friction-less plain
As he navigated through a maze of introspection,
A lifetime of emotions explained with joy or disdain,
Guided by a gleam of absolute truth
   Riding on a ripping tidal wave of death’s mangling hurricane.

He stopped moving entirely near the end,
Only his fingers danced
As his mind sent messages down
to the empty vessel beneath
And he typed the last letter
with great relief    And immediately slipped off
   into the unknown,
   his legacy firmly intact
   in the world that he no longer called home.

And no one ever saw it,
   It was never framed and put on display,
In fact, no one read single word,
   But the message found its way.

Fade into Astral Light

3/12/2020

I came to disappear in astral light,
to run with such speed
   that I leave all gross matter behind,
       leave behind that angry young boy
           who grew too weak to stand,
           too heartbroken to smile,
           too weary
           to climb back
           to all the dreams
           that used to surround him-
               all the dreams
               that ran through his veins
               day after day,
               night upon night,
       All those astral wanderings that showed him
       how to fly like the birds across the morning sunrise,
   the way he did
   before his wings were clipped
   by malevolent mistakes
   on this Earthly plane
   of physical enslavement.

I came to disappear in astral light,
to explode in a coma of psychic calamity,
   to disappear,
   to hide inside,
   to pierce the veil of this two-eyed mind.
I came like a shadow,
like wind,
like smooth glass
upon peaceful fire,
like the whispers of secrets
   told by slanted-lipped phantoms
       on the other side of the mirror,
           where the crystal shines
           across rainbow skies
           in the sun soaked minds
               of those who surrendered eternally to light,
               those who vanquish demons,
                   who guide vagrant spirts
                   trapped inside this sphere
                   with compassion,
                   with great patience,
                   with a calm inside their bones,
                   who listen closely as they draw near,
                   who hear them coming
                   through the ringing in my ear.

I came to disappear in astral light,
to find each vagabond piece of my soul
   that got lost wandering through the ether,
       trying to find its way home,
Fore within us all
   there is an infinite traveler
   that has wandered throughout time,
       A traveler
       who has befriended demons,
       witches with kind and cruel eyes,
       white and black wizards,
       and hounds with horror in their cries,
       A traveler
   who has died and been reborn
   many, many times before,
   who has disappeared completely,
   returned and transcended their flaws,
       A traveler
   who has reverted back to his vices
   between fading in and out from black,
   who remembers and forgets
   like some haunted amnesiac,
       and the wheel turns,
       Oh,
       my goodness,
           the wheel it turns,
           the wheel it turns,
               and turns
               and turns
               and turns.