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Scott K Wojack

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Member Since: Sep, 2007

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American Fantasy
by Scott K Wojack
Friday, September 28, 2007
Not rated by the Author.
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Recent poems by Scott K Wojack
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There is no community well to draw from,
No home country to send a servant to,
No garden and all the animals are named.
I'm standing here in what
One can only hope,
Is a mid-summer's dream.
Wondering how in heaven's name
Impossibilities become reality.
With a head spinning full of desires,
Kiss me and wake me up.
I swear I saw you in a dream
Last night or the night before.

And sometimes the days are so unbearable
There is no relief in sight.
And everywhere I look
Smiles pass me by
Standing in the middle of a desert
At the water's edge,
In the heat of the day.
It feels like a bad lottery game
Every pick is wrong
But I swear I saw my numbers being drawn
One more time again.
Did the rules of the game pass me by
When I turned my back on time?

In my loneliness
Two more lovers embrace.
How did that happen so easily?
With a mind full of questions
What do I do here in the middle of my life?
And there is thunder in the sky
And there is rain on the streets
But I am as dry as a man can be.
Deep in the heart of the city
There is a man with a gun
And there is a preacher with a bible in his hand.
And somewhere some girl is headed
Somewhere she shouldn't be
Did she just pass me by
Water soaked with a gleam in her eye?
On the other side of the city
There's some kids playing in the rain
And there is a mom watching TV.
Around the corner the old ladies
Are putting on a cup of tea.

And I am ready to run from where I am?
My heart is beating faster then the earth is spinning,
A thousand questions swell up from my soul.
What is and what was, what could be.
In the rain no one notices
My soul weeping standing here all alone,
What does she want from me?
Are expectations real
Or just American fantasy?

Every woman has her own story
And every woman I have ever known
Has the same story to tell.
Some will use words, some sing sad, sad, songs
Some the story is just written in their eyes.
It's a common story, a romantic tale
Weaved in the pits of hell.
Desire of ends from the beginning
She looks and sees not.
Is it foolishness or just deception
For one to think they can have their desires
In the beginning on the backs of a man?
When favor obtained and true desires
Only come after two are made one.
The reality of creation
Is that the blessings of heaven
Fully only come when two are traveling as one.

I hear her words in my head
She knows in her heart the job
She is going to marry.
Reaching for that end
And never playing a role in building.
She knows all the ends
And you're too old
One woman's inspiration
Is another woman's gain
She'll gladly sing songs of
Sixteen going on seventeen
Not looking beyond her little world.
And when twenty years have passed her by
Will she still look for one
Who has obtained it all
And still not know
That it's her hands need we so?
Or will she ride in like a thief in the night
And take what another woman built?

Do I hear my own words
Standing in the rain?
Does my heart brake when I realize
I have gone as far as I can
With just my two hands?
Is who I am looking for
Just passed me by in the rain?
Am I too blind to see
That she needs my hands
And together we will become each other's dreams,
With no age difference or
False expectations getting in the way?
Or do I just continue to live this American Fantasy?

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Reviewed by Karen Palumbo 9/28/2007
Very interesting and observational piece of one supposedly living what is coined "The American Dream". Seems more of a non reality than a reality, yet your writing depicts the many emotional ups and downs that accompany every decision, Great write....

Be safe,
Karen
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