There is nothing special about this poem. In fact, it's rather average. But I just wanted to share with you my current life. Writing is next to impossible. Finding time to post this is hard enough. I have some written work in reserve but this poem is something I scribbled up at 3 am some dark hour this week. Or it could have been 2. Or even 6. And don't ask me what day. Days no longer have any meaning. And my mind is beginning to scare me. When you read the poem, it will all make sense.
Sleep is a Dream I Once Had
Got the Can't sleep blues
nothing makes no sense
plodding thoughts
head dense
full of horror
raining there outside
pouring in here
Why do I
bother
Attempting Sleep
When I'm submerged into Fear
its a baby thing
a droopy eyed no grin
yawning
teary
can't complain
cause I choose
this
didn't you deary?
so i'll do an internet search
with no goal in sight
and i'll wander feet bare aimless
for yet another fucking night
and i'm up again
and the line recedes
and again
and the crying succeeds
but there's no end...
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
(Update: Written when my daughter was four weeks old. No wodner!)
Greatest Written Films
Dreams (1955)
Directed by Ingmar Bergman
Dreams begins with a scene involving a photography shoot. It is the land of Dreams. We meet Doris, the model. Soon we are drawn into her world. It transpires that she is engaged, but the problem is, her beau is rather square. She has big aspirations. She wants more out of life. But she is not the only one with dreams. The photographer, Susanne, is missing her ex lover. Trouble is, he broke the relationship off because he is married. Yet she's not about to let that stop her.
To say more would be to ruin the plot, but we soon meet other characters who also have Dreams. It seems we all do, but more often than not, we are not allowed to achieve them. And perhaps that's not always a bad thing. We seem to spend most of our lives with desires, untapped and unreachable. Bergman knows this all too well, and tortures his characters with their yearnings. Their desires out of step with the mechanics of day to day living. This internal conflict is the basis for excellent drama. As always Bergman keeps the struggle between man and woman upfront. Anguished lovers are foremost in the frame. There is desire but it is fraught with complications. Like real romance. The Europeans have been upping the Americans with romantic films for decades, particularly if you consider when this was made and what else was around at the time.
It's not Bergman's best film. The characters are sometimes very selfish and it is hard for us to sympathise with them, but this is the point. For most people, Dreams are elusive. How can we exist in the world if we cannot have what we want? It's a heartbreaking realisation.
Some say Bergman was the greatest Director the world has ever seen. I'm not sure about that. Tarkovsky was a visual genius, but Bergman is certainly more intimate, his stories deeply personal and instantly identifiable. He achieves success again with Dreams.
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