My -ered Firmly Plast-

There is a steady and rambling, slowly meandering stream

that runs alongside the road I envisioned in my dream

at night, last night, to offer a slight but right—

note of importance.

#

I often follow the rambling, slowly meandering stream

that runs alongside the road I envisioned in my dream

at night, though only when I dream at night.

Note of importance is the fact that when I am awake at night,

I am not asleep and can't dream the dream

of the rambling, slowly meandering stream

that runs alongside the road I envisioned in my dream

that night, last night.

#

We are now two days forward from that night,

so it is no longer last night,

but in reality, not last night

but the night before last night, is right.

Note of importance—this is not important,

but the mere fact that I was not asleep last night.

I want to make clear that sentiment

so that this can be written write.

#

Well, on that particular night—not last night,

but the night before last night—

I envisioned the same rambling, meandering stream,

like something from a Turner or Catherine Cookson novel,

if I had read one to be able to ascertain

if that was an accurate,

if it was right.

#

While I envisioned the same rambling, meandering stream

that may or may not be like something out of a Turner painting

or Catherine Cookson novel,

I saw a sprite.

Note of importance:

The sprite is not of importance to the tale,

but it had a delightful tail

that flickered at me in the night by the light

as it reflected off the rambling, meandering stream

like the light off a bullet

from the chamber of a gun.

#

Note of importance:

The note of importance is the fact

that I was completely naked as the day you were born.

The fact that my loincloth had torn asunder

from under my cradled testicles

had not yet registered,

until the sprite began flicking acorns toward my groin.

#

Note of importance:

When I awoke, there were no acorns on my bed,

so I know it was of a dream

and not a drunken reality—

of which, in my reality,

could have been the truth,

as I had downed vermouth

by the bottle load

the night before last.

#

My —ered firmly plast—

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: This is my third entry into International Ghost Society's Best Bad Poetry Competition. I find out the runnerups on Saturday at some point. The deadline was Thursday night, so you can't enter anymore.

Here is a link to the challenge anyway!

Here are the other two entries I've posted on Vocal so far.