Socks

The giant falls upon his back
Then from him pulls
a lion black
Whose raging mouth
and lashing tongue
Has been the scourge
of everyone

The frosted beams and splintered branches
Of certain dreams after
Curtain glances
Whose home alone
And what are the Jones
Up to now?

 Four score years I've
been living these dreams
Waking up with nightmares
Giving me womanly screams

The socks in the wind
and the money in the pocket
Don't light up what I mean
After I stick into the electricity socket

Timing is all out
I want to shout but fail
My calls rebound within
Internal walls of self
Not rising above esteem
Like some pitying ocean
Swell cannot breach the brink
Of the harbour wall
Cannot flood the wishing well