Caesar did not die
At the hands of the Senate
For Rome continued to grow
And he continued to live
In thier myths
No
It was the death of his Dream
The fall of his mighty empire
In the hands of decadent
And careless heirs
That finally killed him
The "American Dream"
The greatest lie we've
Ever told ourselves
A Dream that was
Never really born
I have a friend
Whom Thespis has blessed
So generously that no one
Could watch her perform
And be unmoved
She could have
Hell
She should have been
The last great
And most skilled actor
Of the 20th century
And yet she sits
Monitoring alarms
And writing "Star Trek" fan-fiction
Dreams sometimes have to
Transmute themselves to survive
I've been no stranger
To this concept
When I was younger
I pictured myself
Writing stories that would
Rip the readers' hearts out
And show them the fear
They tried to hide
Inside of it
I would have summoned
Creatures into thier imaginations
That would make the Great Old Ones
Look like house pets
That Dream was lost
Like the many pages
Of my unfinished novels
When my imagination had failed me
For the first time in my life
Now let's fast-forward to 1992
When for two years
I got to be a rock star
I had the look
To scare the audience into listening
I had more than enough attitude
To support three metal bands
One punk band
And half-a-dozen solo artists
But as most of you know by now
I can never really sing well
When it comes time
To stand in front of a microphone
That Dream was brutally
Stabbed to death
By my own voice
And everything that
Went with the Dream
Died as well
Then of course
There were the
Two Great Loves of my life
Now I really don't want
To attempt to till
That dry and dead soil
But I will say this
During one of those times
Two Dreams were made manifest
The Dream of the Love itself
And the Dream of a "normal" life
The first was a great Dream and true
And the second arose for the
Sake of the first
And thus it was false
The second Dream became jealouse
And tried to overshadow the Love
In the process crushing it
Under the weight of
It's new found pride
And when the Love lay dear
The second realized that it
Was without substance
The only thing that gave
It life and reality was gone
And so it too faded
We walk along the ashes
Of cremated and forgotten Dreams
Every day of our lives
Sometimes it helps
If you pick the ashes up
Smear yourself with them
Absorb them into you
And remember
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This one is a bit longer then I like to write them, and I may have to trim it down over time. I kind of like it though. Jen specifically requested this poem, but I think she may have gotten far more then she barganed for. G'night world
~Matt Magus
