Extreme Dreams

The moon comes apart at the seams

in my dreams.

I cry lemonade tears,

and laugh until my ears

tingle.

It makes no sense

that ants are immense.

I sing a song of beautiful chords,

but don’t know the words.

The stars are low to the ground.

My voice makes no sound.

I awake and frown,

as I try to write down

my mind’s eye message, so dark,

but I only get a question mark.

No use trying to crack the code

of the honey-covered path I strode,

while curiously gazing up at an orange sky,

while pelted with rain that’s dry.

Or why I’m no longer sad,

as butterflies in plaid

by me flutter.

Why is there butter

in its name? Or why a pink giraffe came

to tell me news

with eyes of two different blues.

So confusing. So amusing.

But still, I eagerly await what film my subconscious will play,

furtively, behind the back of day.

I’m pleased to announce the release of my 8th book, Skoll’s Diary.

Africans and African Americans left Earth in 1900, and went to another planet in The Milky Way to escape mistreatment…

It’s now the year 3005 on that terraformed planet. We get a peek into the life of a bright and sensitive teenaged boy, Skoll, through his journal. He loves his world, but is curious about life on Earth. Then suddenly, an epic event casts him in the middle of a difficult decision.  The fate of the planet’s community is in his hands.

Get the book here. I’d appreciate your leaving a review if you read it. Thanks in advance!

Poetry: Personal Afterlife

Okay. So I took a stab at poetry, once. A majority of it was terrible. Some, not so terrible. Here is one that’s decent:

Personal Afterlife

by Sean C. Wright-Neeley

In my heaven,

I would stay seven

for evermore.

And stroll a beach of chocolate shore.

Red butterflies fill skies, and swoop & dip,

As I don a skirt of roses on my hip.

There would be no dirt, no hurt, no tears, no fears.

No need for wishing.

Only my dishing

up French fries for breakfast while smiling up a rainbow;

one that’s not from a rude rain…

Sunflowers float around, too, sans stems.

How can something look so beautiful when decapitated?

Floral fumes never decrease or cease; no frowns to crease the face.

No cholesterol. No aerosol. No harps or wings.

Just colorful, busy things.

An eternal kindergarten for a woman on the edge of 50.

Joy, like finding pennies on the ground with your birth year.

 

I’m pleased to announce the release of my 8th book, Skoll’s Diary.

Africans and African Americans left Earth in 1900, and went to another planet in The Milky Way to escape mistreatment…

It’s now the year 3005 on that terraformed planet. We get a peek into the life of a bright and sensitive teenaged boy, Skoll, through his journal. He loves his world, but is curious about life on Earth. Then suddenly, an epic event casts him in the middle of a difficult decision.  The fate of the planet’s community is in his hands.

Get the book here. I’d appreciate your leaving a review if you read it. Thanks in advance!