The Dotted Line


What does it all mean

When status quo can’t be seen?

The differences are being made from off the beams

While this mad, mad world comes apart at the seams


I’m sorry I don’t take direction very well

My drummer leads a march not started by your bell

So I must inform you of what may seem a jagged pill

I never have and it seems I most certainly never will


Lines are not to denote the placement of colors on a page

Confinement within the boundaries can be likened to a cage

Dotted lines should only be cut and never ever signed upon

To this way of thinking, it is the artists that first catch on


Mindless drones will always follow the nearest border

 What we need is a quick and effective cure for this disorder

Go outside and let the world give you reason to believe

Think outside the box and count the gifts you then receive


Remember that a blank page holds endless possibilities

While cleaning of the slate is meant to sharpen our abilities

 Our need to fall in line has imprisoned freedom of expression

Cut away the dotted line and restore our most prized possession


So let me tell you what I think it all means

In this dominion of stick figure Kings and Queens

Lines may only be drawn if they are traced in grains of sand

Allowing the surf of creativity to wash them clean with gentle hand

Ripples of Escher


Sometimes I find myself on a trip inside my mind

Walking through lands that I will never understand

Worlds of abstract images and realities so surreal

People, places, and things that just should not be


Strangely I feel at home among the peculiar people

Feeling of comfort and serenity amidst this chaos

Stairways that surround, to confuse, and astound

See in the sky a flock of puzzling fishes and birds


Patterns and prints form figures out of nowhere

As kingdoms spring forth from mere imagination

Lost inside this mind’s eye I am ever awestruck

As never is witnessed an identical vision twice


I now hold before me this artist’s crystal ball

Gazing upon a reflected image of odd ideas

An echo ripples off of true artistic inspiration

As a fleeting glimpse catches a likeness of me