Suburban Decay

The Dreamers are known by many names,

Some hopeless romantics and tortured poets,

Others, drunken philosophers or religious zealots.

They all share an ancient pain,

From Jeanne d’Arc to Anthony Bourdaine.

For the Dreamers even the Fates mourn,

By each a tear’s conceived,

From which tragedy is weaved.

Thus the Dreamer is born,

Beckoned from Heaven by Reality’s dawn.

Few escape the mists of time,

Some in immortal verse,

Others, in virtuous bloodthirst.

Most are forgotten; left behind,

Dismissed as egotists, signs of the times.

Oh, the dreams they dream!

Heavenly song, lovers in bloom,

Cigarette kisses through long afternoons.

Herculean triumphs, silver screens.

A long lost soul finally free.

How dare they dream without permission,

The Dreamer must repent for such immodesty,

Pay for poisoned curiosity.

The unforgivable sin of ambition,

The audacity of indecision.

-Rob Padfield