Blue Carpet

Lemonade stays in the kitchen.
Always! With no exceptions.
The carpet is already spotted, it is true
But the dingy shade of faded blue
Is better than any bluish green,
That would undoubtedly occur
If bright yellow lemonade made the scene
And turned my blue carpet into green.

not very good as poetry goes. but poetry written after nightmares rarely is, I would think.

Nightfight
I fight at night in my dreams,
race through school hallways.
flee evil plumbers horrible schemes,
drive get away cars down dirt byways.

Looks like I’m sleeping peacefully,
as there I lie.
appearances are deceiving, in many ways
soundtrack with a pounding heartbeat plays
louder, louder till I die.
Roaring water engulfs.
Monsters find, catch, gulp.
Death comes, as a darkness, not a white blaze.
As a relief, too, after terror of the chase.