Caught on a Line

In contemplating dazes

Skies open in occasional flares

Lets down a golden line or two

Just a few

And I ask 'who are you'

Often receiving little more than a hook

To place my cheek along like a fish

Tearing flesh

It's hard to not take the bait

Of dreamy ambitions and curious reflections

Pulled then into the sky

Careless of directions

Ending up either in the Wonderland

Doom Land




Those or in the hands of God

Which I guess is called God Land

But then I never have a camera with me

Just a pen or a keyboard

And they say a picture is worth a thousand words

So then I write ten thousand words and ten thousand more

Which is worth more than twenty pictures in my opinion

But these Lands 

Well they're not of my dominion

So I'm tossed back to Earth 

(Never called world-land or earth-land)

With nothing but my writing to show for it

So if I'm abducted by aliens in a far off Land

Taken by ethereal fishing lines



I am always ready 

Pen in hand












The End

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