first dream for fucking ages...

people always say,
if you stop smoking bud,
you’ll be dreaming once more,
at night,
and in general.

i never trust what people say,
its a strength of mine,
but also a big problem,
sometimes,
people’s intentions are innocent.

people also say,
if you write down your dreams,
right away upon waking,

the memories,
return with a vengeance.

from what I can tell,
both are based in truth,
as far as I can tell,
from the information,
I have at my disposal,

I just woke up,
I dreamt that I got home,
drank beer in parks,
ate watermelon in parks,
and sat on the steps of parliament house.

you wanted to paint it purple,
I wanted to burn it down,
we couldn’t agree,
but it didn’t matter,
we were the best and brightest
of our pathetic democracy.

then I went to exchange again,
in Iraq,
Heavy Metal In Baghdad,
which was fucking good,
not very ‘cool’,
but very fucking good.

good>cool.

I didn’t want to leave,
the centre of the serious action,
because I had to head to the coast,
because I wanted to go surfing.

there I lived,
on a cliff,
the weather was hot,
the nights were nice,
the surf was massive,
the food was foreign,
the locals were crazy,
some of them were very friendly,
I made Iraqi friends-for-life.
‘bra boys’ are massive pussies.
I thought Iraq was land-locked?