Filtered Dreams

I know that I’m supposed to write a poem
Like an intellectual who came from a strange place,
Who experienced many ordinary things
And has become wiser more than smarter
To rise above the odds
Of humanity’s innocent,
Occasionally small-minded expectations.
 
If you could do so,
Picture me as I beautifully script
This tantalizing verbal masterpiece.
Interweaving the millions of golden threads
Found in life’s hopeless nostalgia,
Soaring way beyond cloud nine
On the waves of a magic carpet
And disappearing in the northeastern winds
Of an endless indigo sky.
 
But the truth is
That sadly,
As much as I hoped my reality matched up
With your expectations,
I am none of such things you imagine
And I will do none of such inspiring things.
 
As of now,  
I’m surprised at how fast time goes by
While sitting in the wooly chair
Where I’ve inherited this chronic back pain,
Remembering when I thought
The most important things in life
Were the tests I had forgot the subjects of
And all those teachers,
I once wanted to please.
 
In my quaint suburban neighbourhood
Where the only crimes committed
Are the echos of train whistles, airplane jets
And the loud roar of motorcycles,
I now listen between the loneliness and  
Reminiscence of adventures I wish I had,
But never will come close to having.
 
To give you a sense of perspective,
I would definitely say,
I occupy quite a small corner of the world.
Like a hermit crab in its sandy nest
Nestled amongst other adorable sea folk
Who scatter around her day to day
Saying ‘hi’ once in while
Only when they need to,
And never, when they want to.
 
Yes I admit,
I used to dream of magic carpets
In my mind’s curiously keen eye,
So I could traverse the seven wonders
Of a whole new world.
 
But now,  
I watch filtered dreams through
My friendly local TV service provider
On a streaming service that has more riches
Than I will ever have,
In my entire lifetime.
 
It’s so easy and convenient
That it transports me to as many places,
As I please,
Without the liberating riskiness,
Of a life worthy of a novel
That could be adapted into a movie.
 
So the truth is
That sadly,
I have been everyone that
I said I wouldn’t be,
And gone everywhere
I said I wouldn’t go,
But done just about it all,
At the fraction of the person
I wish I could become.