Tori Dreamer

Grown from love and dreams and want
The waiting, though long and hard, was hopeful
No books could adequately paint the picture or tell the story
Where nothing once was, you are there.

The heartbeat, the movement, the knowing
Planning, preparing for the unknown
With purpose and joy and anticipation you were ushered in
Where nothing once was, you are there.

Worlds around us rejoiced or went to war
Unaware of the new life created
And when that moment came with tears and celebration
Where nothing once was, you are there.

Where nothing once was, you are there.

Tori Burris Inkley
4/8/24 

A four leaf clover
Holds enough luck for one dream.
What will it be friend?

Tori Burris Inkley
4/7/24

Eyes closed
Breath still
In the nothingness
You arrive
Not whole
Just a whisper of you
A scent
A hum
A pause
So little
Yet so much.

Tori Burris Inkley
4/6/24

Tell me how the flowers know to reach for the sky
or the birds know to sing a morning song.

Tell me how the tide knows to roll to the shore
or the day knows to be just so long.

Tell me how my child knows there’s comfort in my arms
or my head knows something has gone wrong.

Tell me how a people learn to judge one another
or not to think and to simply go along.

Science can explain the reach of the flowers,
the tide, and the length of the days.

Psychology perhaps knows the arms of mothers
and all of their comforting ways.

There are theories I’m sure of instinct and thought
and what goes on inside of one’s head.

But the judging and the following may not be understood
until way too many are dead.

And those birds…
Tell me how.

Tori Burris Inkley
4/5/24

Maybe it was or maybe it wasn’t
I was young and stupid or wise beyond my years
Scared and bruised and searching
Took a small step, then a giant leap
Accepted my fate
Kept after the expected
Even now I wonder

Tori Burris Inkley
4/4/24

Let me begin by saying, I have
Zero Interest in People.

I consider myself a bit of an
Art Buff, a
Game Changer, and for a short while,
The Drinker.
[The drinking came following the demise of a very long, very NOT perfect relationship.]

Oh, he was wonderful at first… a
Flower Thrower, a
Dream Boat, and admittedly, a
Well Hung Lover.

Intense was that day we spent at
The Walled Off Hotel.
Me, in my
Valentine’s day mascara.
And him, sporting nothing but the
Scar of Bethlehem. 

Wine and laughter flowed
as he labeled me his 
Designated Picnic Area,
and spoke of
Cardinal Sin.
And I thought,
this is it,
Love is in the Bin.

Not long after, came his
Follow Your Dreams,
Will Work for Idiots,
Bomb Hugger,
Civilian Drone Strike era.

And though I floated about
like the proverbial
Peace Dove,
Soon came the
Fragile Silence.
And thus began our
Mobile Lovers stage.

I turned inward… painting a
Self Portrait, 
which remains
Untitled.

He decided to
Take The Money and Run,
starting a
Think Tank with
Corrupted Oil Jerry.

And now I sit,
under some big top, lost in 
The Mild Mild West,
just beyond the sign that reads
Forgive Us Our Trespassing
and to the left of the
Guard with Balloon Dog.

I repeat… I have
Zero Interest in People.
But the posters outside promise a
Parachuting Rat, a
Gorilla in a Pink Mask, a
Flying Balloon Girl, a
Hula Hooping Girl, and a
Girl with a Pierced Ear Drum
(formerly known as a Ballerina with Action Man Parts).

As I sit and wait for yet another circus, 
the ringmaster begins,
“After the show, you are to
Exit Through the Gift Shop and
Shop Till You Drop!
Hope you all went to the Bank-sy!”

Tori Burris Inkley
4/3/24

Spin me ‘round…
three times to be exact.
I’ll click my heels,
bat my eyes,
pull a rabbit from my hat.

Then I’ll dance…
and sing the stupid song.
I’ll entertain,
make you smile,
and pretend there’s nothing wrong.

Then it’s done…
Right back to what we had.
For all to see,
You and me,
Floating through happy… yet sad.

Tori Burris Inkley
4/2/24

If the level of positivity
Can outlast one’s proclivity
To become enmeshed in the desire
To blow smoke and throw fire
When the world’s become colder
As we’re all getting older
And the earth is still turning
While mankind is yearning
For better and best
Less wicked, more blessed
Then maybe,
Just maybe…

There’s hope.

Tori Burris Inkley
4/1/24