The Project Gutenberg eBook ofDreaming of DreamingThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.*** This is a COPYRIGHTED Project Gutenberg eBook. Details Below. ****** Please follow the copyright guidelines in this file. ***Title: Dreaming of DreamingAuthor: Peter E. WilliamsEditor: Tim McCannRelease date: August 12, 2005 [eBook #16515]Most recently updated: December 12, 2020Language: English*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DREAMING OF DREAMING ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
*** This is a COPYRIGHTED Project Gutenberg eBook. Details Below. ****** Please follow the copyright guidelines in this file. ***
*** This is a COPYRIGHTED Project Gutenberg eBook. Details Below. ***
*** Please follow the copyright guidelines in this file. ***
Title: Dreaming of DreamingAuthor: Peter E. WilliamsEditor: Tim McCannRelease date: August 12, 2005 [eBook #16515]Most recently updated: December 12, 2020Language: English
Title: Dreaming of Dreaming
Author: Peter E. WilliamsEditor: Tim McCann
Author: Peter E. Williams
Editor: Tim McCann
Release date: August 12, 2005 [eBook #16515]Most recently updated: December 12, 2020
Language: English
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DREAMING OF DREAMING ***
Copyright (C) Peter E. Williams 1999
dragon2
Peter E. Williams
Meet Electrified Publication #1
I wish to thank tiM, editor, but firstly andforemostly friend, for his honest criticism andundying enthusiasm that he has shown towardsmy poetry. Without his work, this book would nothave happened.
Dreaming of DreamingPoetry by Peter E. Williams
Dreaming of Dreaming
Poetry by Peter E. Williams
ISBN 0-646-38552-6
Copyright © Peter E. Williams 1999
First Published 1999 byMeet Electrified Press24/255 Northbourne Avenue,Lyneham ACT 2602
Cover illustration - monochrome reproduction of awater colour by Peter E. Williams, circa 1980.
Nuts
Shame
Mind Stew
Dreaming of dreaming with my cat.
Piffle the Cat
My Mum
White Space
Life’s A Beach
Merchant Banker
Mega, Giga, Tera
A million to hate
To have lived our fantasies
And the Expletives Remained
Spinning Out
Walls & Sledge Hammers
Knots
"He’s fallen in the water!"
Voices again. Been there, done that...
An Abecedarian Story
Hollywood Romantiks
Are we there yet ?
It didn’t really happen
Lovely Passenger
LustLooking Good
Circular Poem
From Attitude to Gratitude
Perhaps
Remembered Turf
One Tuesday in February
One Wednesday in March
My Brother. Oh brother...
Religion, sex, etc.
Pokies
Therefore
Bill of Rights Cut-up (last 3)
Forked!
Just ‘orrible
What is love ? #1
What is love ? #2
About the Poet
Crazy as a cashew.Unbelievably lucky,
I keep my job,live alone,lead a lucky life.
Always the same old job,17 years of it.
Go nowhere.Be nobody.Do nothing.
Sheer luxury.
They got to me.
They drove meoff the deep end.
But I’m luckywith my label,and my safe job.
Shame I’m nuts.Blissful,lucky,shame.
Boil, boil, andon it stews,the broth that cooks,on the stovethat is my mind.
Ideas bob up,then quickly go.But some will stayand add to theflavour that ismy twisted mind.
(Dedicated to Go the cat)
Early this morning in bed,I had a very pleasant dream.
I dreamt that I was asleepon the sofawith my cat(that I don’t have anymore)curled up on my back,and we were bothwarm and happy.
Those types of dreamsare always the bestand I never wantto wake up from them.
But then again…I’d never get tosee the beautiful dayin store for me.
My cat came to me in a dream last night,he needed my love and my reassurancethat things would be okay.
His name was Patches,but he answered to Piffleand he was a sook and a cuddler.
My cat came to me in a dream last night,he never deserved to gothe way that he did.no-one did.you see, he was killed by vicious dogsat the front door of his home
He never did learn to fightonly to runBut he wasn’t fast enough that day,he was getting a little old.
My cat came to me in a dream last night,I told him I loved him and he told me the same,for it was twenty years agothat he was taken awayto the very day.
I love my Mum,I always do,always have,always will.
She’s always joining dots,but never quitegetting the picture.
So we’re alwaysdrawing those pictures,Dad and me.
Framing them,and hanging themon the walls,for Mum to see.
I love Mum!Everybody does.She’s such aloving, lovable, caringand wonderful human being.God, I love her.
Here I sit,at my word pro,
the white spacestaring me down,but not out.
I experiment,juxtaposingpseudo-random wordsinto pretentious,premeditatedpoetry.
Then with an afflatus,words flow,whispered by my muse,into lines and stanzas.
I am not you.You are not me.Me, myself and I will get alone just fine.Fine for that is life.Life in the suburbs is sedate.Sedated in the psych. wards.Wardrobe looks a little bare.Bare all at the beach.
Merchant bankerwillie wankerlikes to spank hercan’t thank her
change the lockadjust the clockdarn my socksuck my cock
Down in those mallsthose super mallswe’ve got mega storesand we’re making them bigger
1000 times more,giga storesNO!!!make them bigger stilla million times bettermore freebeesa million times bigger…we’ll call them TERASTORES.
$1,000,000,000,000
how many men could I find to hate ???how many have betrayed me ???10, 100, 1000or a million times more
It’s just how you look at it;’cos if you don’t have the timeor the energy to hatethen you will find true peaceif only you look inside.
I found youyou found mewe correspondedwe fantasized
I gave without questioningyou promised it allbut you delivered nothing
had you really promised without thinking ???or did your feet turn cold ???
The lines flowed,the poem wrote itselfand the expletives remained
Fuck the Poetry Police!Fuck you all, very much.
The last time I was" hearing voices" againwas only a couple of days ago.I was sick in bedwith a viral infection.I was trying to sleepbut voices kept saying" Think what you know is true."
But then I would think," Well what do I know is the truth ?"
Then I’d think of somethingand say, well that’s true,and quick as a flashanother voice would say" Is that really what you believe ?Is that what is true ?Isn’t that bullshit ?"
And then I’d have to think ofsomething else to believe in.
And this was not a relaxed process.No way!It was manic.
It seemed to happena 1000 times a minute,and it just wouldn’t stop.
At least, it went onfor an hour or so,and it seemed like an eternity.
Just another dayin the life of"a person with schizophrenia."
Where do I start ?At the beginning of course,but where is that exactly ?I am(to state it inpolitically incorrectly language)a schizophrenic.
And I have been livingwith that labelfor the past 15-odd years now.
I live by myself,have a few close friends…
But I count myself asone of the lucky onesbecause throughout all of timesin and out ofpsych. wards of hospitals,
I kept the same job,with a largegovernment organization,
and they’ve been verysupportive towards me.
Today, at work,in my lucky full time jobas a government nobody,I get largely left alone andto my own devices.
For better or for worse,but always with an occasionalsupervisory peerover my shoulderto keep me in line.
"Oh yes,
We’re not too surewhere orhow exactly you fit in,
but we likehaving you around,and, hey,somebody has todo the odd jobs,and we think you’rejust the man."
***
Alas,I am not lucky enoughto have a job that I’m in love with.
My career is not my life.
Sometimes I think thatI’m just a tiny cogin a ridiculously enormous machine -but there are also momentswhen keeping that cog turningseems to make a (slight) difference.
I have good daysand other days.
Sometimes the other days get ugly.
But, I always try to dothe right things at work,for recognition perhaps,or perhaps simplyto prove that I am reallynot incompetent at my job.
I can do it well,and I do it the bestof my capabilities.
And if that means thatI hit brick walls thenso be it -
I just have to get helpwhen I hit one.I have learntthrough bitter experience,that when I hit a wall,they will almost always out-stare me.
So that’s when I get a ladder,or maybe a sledge hammer.
(Dedicated to Mistress Alexis)
I am naked,assume the position.I know it well.
She grabs her rope.Around it goes.Through my armsand around again,
knotted then back." Keep still, please."
and through again,and back around,again and again,and tied off ina love knot.
She double-checksthe bondage.Finally she is satisfiedwith my helplessness.
Then she leaves me alone.I struggle a little.It is hopeless.I am helpless,totally!
I move around a little,trying to become comfortable.
The ropes bite in.Time passes,Hands become numb.The clock ticks on.I lose track of time,
it goes so slowly,how much longer willshe make me wait ?
More time passes.Eventually she comes back.Soon I will have freedom,but not before wehave played some more.
Oh, the agony.Oh, the ecstasy.I truly love it.
I can’t wait for my freedom,then to do it all again.
Ying tong tiddle high poeand other shades of Goonismdrifting in and outof the corners of my mindreminiscing about those
hazy radio dayscrazy voices reverberatingaround the roomantics of Milligan and co.amazing, surprising,
entertaining,delighting,always echoing
I can still vividly rememberthe last time that I was "hearing voices"(to use a worn out metaphor).
It was less that a week ago.I had been there a thousand times before.
Yes, I am on medication.Yes, I do take it regularly.
But this was onlya short lived episode.
It was a Saturday, andI hadn’t gotten dressed all day,but instead I hadbeen napping off and on all day.
I had also done my weeks washing andhad it drying on a clothes horsein the lounge room(as is normal, being winter).
It was early evening andI wanted to go to sleep.
Slumber was a blissful escape,or perhaps only sometimes.
Anyway, I couldn’t get any sleep,and my mind was racing.
"Everyone’s going to find outall about those secrets.
Everyone will know theworst things that I can imagine.
They will know all about meand everything that I imaginedpeople saying will be true now."
They keep on going around in my head.
They’re crap,and I know it.They’re just voices,I tell myself,but why won’t they go away ?A short time passed.More voices,different voices,
"You know what to do,Mother always says so.What should I do now ?I don’t know!But you know what to do,don’t you ?"
The vicious circle kept going ‘round.
***
Time to get up from bed andring Mum,after allshe knows what to do.
Scattered and shaking,I do this.
I go to the phone,sit down, andphone ever-reliable Mum.
She is my tower of strength.
It’s an STD callbut I don’t care.
She tells me to ring the Crisis Team(aka the Mental Health Triage)but I can only fumble withmy electronic organizer.
I know exactly how it works,inside and out,but I could not operate it to save myself.
I get a pen and Mum tells methe phone number of the crisis team andI write it down.
She tells me thatshe can be on the next busif I need her to be with me.
I tell her "no thanks,I think I’ll be OK".I hang up the phone andcall the Crisis Team.
I speak to a lady who knows me,although I cannot recall her.
She talks me through it andtells me to watch a bit of TV orlisten to some music andto occupy myself untillater in the night.
My mini-crisis passesas I follow this advice throughout the night.
Was it because I did all ofthe "right things" orwas it simply that my "medication"was taking effect ?
***
The above episodewas only a small tremor,but it still scared me a bit.
I guess that I took it betterthan I otherwise might havebecause I have been there beforeand done it all before.
But that doesn’t make itany less scary at the time.It’s only with the benefit of hindsightthat I can see that I could cope with it.
Aardvarks' abacuses abate academia accordingly asBeavers breech bridges built byCats claws cleverly constructing,Dogs deeply dig ditches downwardEels electrify electrons, elevating engineered entrapmentsFish flatulate food foullyGazelles glide gracefullyHawks hedonistically hold holidaysIbexes idealistically indulge inexpensive infidelitiesJackanapes jam jazz, jealous Jehovahs judgeKangaroos' karma kills kindergartensLabradors lament lost loveMacaws mainly manipulate manureNags napalm nasty necrophilesOcelots often open operasPanthers persistently pissQuails quantify quarrels queerlyRats relegate responsibilitiesSalmon seldom sing songsTadpoles tastelessly tell tempting testamentsUnicorns unknowingly, unwittingly upbeat urgent urinal usageVenison vent verbal volcanic volleysWallabies want wellingtons with wingsX-Dodos. x-tinct.Yaks yell yesterday's Yiddish yoo-hoosZebras zip zodiac zones.
I long to be loved,just like in the movies.It’s all so easyfor the love-struck stars
They metThey didn’t get alongthen slowly…they fell in love
It’s so easyfor them,they just fall in loveeasy as pie
They say," It’s not fair,It’s so easy for them.Why doesn’t it happen tome?"
It doesn’t happen to me either!Life is not a fairy tale.
And yet love will happen.Of that I’m sure.
Here we go…on a fantastic journeyof self discovery.
He told me:" Just grab a penand write whatever you feel.Let it flow.It’s bestwhen you don’tpremeditate your writing."
I should:edit my writing,not my ideas !
I should:take my own advice.
But, I think,that’s easier said than done.Don’t I always try to thinkof what I’m going to say next,before I commit it to paper ?
But then I think," What is good writing anyway ?How will I know when I’m there ?"
"Are we there yet ?"
You went down the streetjust an ordinary day
you saw a young girlinnocent and sweettalking to her dadabout everyday stuff
their freezer needed defrostinghappens everyday
did you really tell heror did you just dream ithow to make a little… tiny… flame thrower ???
of course you didn’t !!!you’re not that stupid,and even if you didyou weren’t serious.she’d know that.
you’d never even triedto make one yourselfbut you’d heard it somewhere…that you can make onefrom an aerosol can and a flame
and she could even reach that freezerif she just stands on a chair
***
try telling her parentstry tellingheryou weren’t seriousyou didn’t even knowif it would work
try living with the memory of that scared little faceall covered with bandagesnever the same again
***
but don’t worryit was just a dreamit didn’t really happen at all, did it ?
just keep telling yourselfit was all just a bad, bad dream.
Here I sit,on my bus,seated behinda vision divine.
She is youngand beautiful.But mostly she isa nubile,young thing.
She looksa little tired,but young at heart.
She sneezes.Will I say" Bless you" ?Perhaps not.
Oh, I pine forthe days whenshe may have been mine.
She is trulya vision ofloveliness, divine.
This morning,on my bus,travelling to work,I passed a womansitting in her car.
She was very attractive,I recall frommy two second glance.
lovely face,and such nice,long, black hair.
and did I crave for her ?lust for her ?
haverampant,wanton,lustful
desires for her ?
beg formad,passionate,non-stopsex ?
why, no.You do believe me, don’t you ?
She has:Terrific tits,Beautiful boobs,Loverly lungs,Magnificent mammaries,Nice nipples,and
a cute arse!
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,ROW DEAR, ROW DEAR, ROW,ROW,ROW,ROW,STROKE, STROKE, STROKE,
oooh,stroke,stroke,stroke,oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.
No longer do I havethe sheer luxury ofa do nothing,be nobody,go nowhere job.
It’s good to have some real work to do.But now, of course,I have to work withcrappy computers anda card file system thathave stood still in time.
As the world evolvedand got ready forthe next millenium,we are stuck here ina 70s time warpwith nothing butdusty old shelvesand compactiiand junkthat belongs in a museumto work with.
And still,to get resultswith antique systemscan give mea feeling of self worth.
I do indeed lead a lucky life.After all, I have a job(with good conditionsand people too).
I keep my job,and try my darndestto do a good and honest job.Because that is whatmakes life worth living.
Good friends,family,co-workers,and the satisfactionof knowing that I will liveto enjoy life another day.
Do I believe in God ?That depends on what you mean by God.
Do I believe in life after death ?That depends how you define life,how you define existence.
Do I have a soul ?I don’t know how you define a soul,but I suspect that I do.
I believe that there is something to look forward toafter death.
I believe that in some way, in some "place" thesouls of "good men" end up and exist together.
I don’t know what or where it is,But I'm looking forward to it - one day,one eternity - perhaps.
I’ve got the passwordand I’m into the system.
It’s precipitating wet stuffout of the sky,but I’m warm anddry in here.
And tiM was blown awayby his wet suit,the other day at the coast…
And now I’m just listeningto some jazzy kind of music,playing on the stereo,
as we remember the amazingturf sculpturesin Civic,in some abandonedbank office building,now reclaimed as art spacefor the common man.
It’s a beautiful day to be alive!I have just stepped outside the buildingon my lunch breakwith a can of Coca-Colaand now I can quietly relaxand enjoy sitting on a benchin the sunshine and sitand quietly sip on my drink.
The quietness is interruptedby a helicopter flying overheadfor a moment.
A few more sipsand the caffeineand chemical cocktailbegins to work,to give me a "rush"– or perhaps just a nudge.
One quick ten minute walkaround the buildingsand I’m half wayback to my building.
I’m a little puffedbut feeling good.Better start heading backto my office soon.
I walk outside into the glorious day.The sun shines brightly,another lunch time,another can of coke.
Sweet as honey.Sickly sweet.I find time to sitin the shade,enjoy the beautiful dayand sip the sweet nectar.
Such a change fromthe stuffy offices –air conditioned andclosed andcontrolled climate.
I have a brotherwho thinks that he understandsall about my condition.
But, deep downI think thathe thinks thatmy condition isall caused by a combination of:
low self-esteem,not thinking positively,bad diet, anda guilty conscience
(presumably about eithernot working hard enough,seeing prostitutes, orforgetting birthdays, orsome crap like that).
He has lots of good intentionsbut basically he can’tcome to terms withthe fact thatI earn a good salary(not unlike him)
but I spend all my money(basically on myself)with not much to show for it,and he has a wife andfour kids to support.
If I mention on the phonethat I have to go down the streetto buy a few groceries,then he will gladly spendhalf an hour telling me abouthis favourite recipe, andwhat ingredients to buy to make it(and how good it will be for me) -even though I tell him thatI could not be less interested in his recipe.
Oh brother!
I have some …shall I sayunconventional views on religion.
I was touched by a Christian "anecdote",for lack of a better thing to call it,where, the story goesthat a man talks to god andsays (basically)
"throughout my lifeI have been walking along a beach,and I saw two sets of footprints,yours and mine.
But in the worst times of my lifeI only saw one set of footprints.
Why did you abandon me God ?"And God replies" At those times,I had not abandoned you,I was carrying you!
You see I never abandoned you,I was always there for you."
That story always gets me rightthere.
***
But basicallyI don’t call myself a Christian.
I don’t know if I believe in God,but I believe thatthere must be something after death.
I believe that the souls of good peopleend up in some kind of eternity,
I would not exactly describe it as heaven,in the Christian definition.
***
I believe that the Bible lays outsome very good ideals of how to liveand how people shouldlive by being "nice" to each otherand so on,
but ultimately,I guess I just don’t buy all of thatfire and brimstone stuff,and miracles left, right and centre.
I even found out alittle bit about Buddhism,and liked some of thestuff I found out,until I found out that they have,shall we say,very strict views onsexually andwhat is sexually "proper"(for the lack of another word).
***
My sex life iswhat I call normal,if only slightly kinky.
I have a friend who I have an arrangementto see when the want arises.She is a prostitute andone of my best friends.
She keeps telling methat I am very special to her.
We are not exactly straight-laced(neither of us),but we know what we are doing andwe are both consenting adults andthat’s really all that needs to be said.
***
In the past I have beenbetrayed by people,workmates,who I once trusted -
all in the name ofplaying a practical joke,to humiliate andembarrass me about my private life.
I don’t like what they did to me,but I don’t despise them for it either.(I don’t have the time orenergy to hate people).
I think that their actions only goto prove just how shallowthey really are.
I don’t work with thesepeople any more(because they have moved on to other jobs).
Here I am againin the club.
Came for lunch,stayed for a beer,and to playthe one-armed bandits.
The victory jinglesof many machinesare deafening,but they are notplaying for me.
So many times,one off thatbig prize.
Better to stop nowthan later.
That is a poemit is a lyric verseall lyric verses are poetry,therefore all poetry is lyric verse.
That is greenit is a blade of grassall grass is green,therefore all things green are grass.
establishment of religion,freedom of speech,peaceably to assemble,redress of grievances.
a free State,not be infringed.
in any house,time of war,prescribed by law.
persons, houses, papers,not be violated,supported by oathto be searched,to be seized.
otherwise infamous crime,in cases arisingin actual servicebe subject forlife or limb;witness against himself,process of law;without just compensation.
right to aState and districtdistrict shall haveof the naturewitnesses against him;in his favor,for his defense.
controversy shall exceedshall be preserved,in any courtthe common law.
excessive fines imposed,unusual punishments inflicted.
of certain rights,by the people.
by the Constitution,the States respectively,to the people.
Thoust spake lies.Lies, lies and more damn lies.
Thoust tongue is forked.
This is an ‘oribble poemabout ‘orrible Ed & ‘orrible Sid.
Now ‘orrible Edhad an ‘orrible ‘ead,but ‘orrible Sidhad an ‘orrible kid.And that’s enoughof this ‘orrible poem!
Love is:walking through the parkholding hands,kissing,cuddling,hugging,great sex.
No that’s just a fantasy.But it’s a great fantasyof mine,and one that doesn’timpose any stereotypes on anyone.
So I’ll hang onto it.
We would like to suggest that you try reading this poem backwards, line by line.
"Love is a many splendid thing."that’s what someone said,but don’t ask me who.
Love is different thingsfor different people,
but for me,love is aboutbeing therefor someone special,and about thembeing there for me too.
I love my Mum & Dad,and yes, my brother too,and all his family,and all my other relatives,
all my close friends,and the other ones too,who I only see now and then,
I love Annie on 2XX,who I’ve never even met,who just talks awayto me on the radio,happy as can be,brightening up my morning.
I love:rock stars,pop stars,movie stars,and lots of peoplewho I will never even know,except through their publicity machines,
yet if you asked me,I’d say," Sure, I love:Shania,Alanis,Pamela,and Kim Hope too"
and so many more,whose names escape me,leaving me withonly fleeting images,from movies, TV, and magazines.
I love happy people,and struggling souls,and down-and-outs,and just about everyone!
I love beautiful people,and the rest too,because beauty isn’t aboutsize or shape,it’s about what’s inside,and what you think and do.
But I don’t havesomeonespecial in my life.A lover,to love,and be loved by,passionately,sexually,sensually!
so instead I dream on,just loving life itself.
And yes, I go on lovingthose girlsfrom bordellos too,just occasionally.
Hey, I’m only human,and I need loving too.Or is that just sex & lust ?
I need loving,
I need love,
I love loving,
but don’t ask mewhat love is.
Peter Eric Williams was born on 1st of November, 1961, in Adelaide, South Australia, and grew up in places which include: Adelaide, Berri, Sydney, Oro Bay (Papua), Sydney (again), Canberra, Penang Island (Malaysia); before then returning with his family to Canberra, where he finished primary school, then High School and College, living in Lyneham. He then got a job with the Department of Defence, as a Trainee Draftsman, just before turning 20, where he continues to work to date (currently 1999), as a Technical Officer.
He has only recently taken up writing poetry. When he enrolled in a poetry workshop last year, with the ACT Writers’ Centre, he needed to bring a sample of his own poetry to the workshop, and he didn’t have any, so he wrote the poem which became "Nuts" (in a shortened form) in the evening before the workshop. It was warmly received in the workshop, and thus the germ of his poetry writing was planted and grew. He continues to share his poetry with fellow poets at the Closet Poets, who meet twice a month at the ACT Writers’ Centre, and also occassionally performs his work on radio 2XX.
Peter was diagnosed as a Schizophrenic approximately 15 years ago, and now leads a relatively "normal" life, with his full-time job, and on continual anti-psychotic medication. He lives in a rented, two bedroom flat in the Canberra suburb of Hawker, where in his spare time he uses his personal computer for the internet, programming and of course, writing poetry and publishing it on his own personal web page.
A large section of Peter’s poetry appears on his personal home page (http://members.fortunecity.com/pew). Some of Peter’s poetry currently appears on internet web site "The Australian BDSM Information Site" (http://www.ozabis.info/stories_poetry.html), in the "short stories and poetry" section.
Peter said, "I hope that this poetry will: amuse, bemuse, entice, entertain, delight, shock, inform, educate and inspire the readers of these pages." Read this book and you will discover some of the quirky corners of his mind, about what turns him on, turns him off, and what turns him a little crazy…