The Blindfolded Poetic Dreamer

By CharlesAldux | CharlesAldux | 12 May 2022

By: Charles Aldux

Written on 11/3/2021 and 5/12/2022


The Blindfolded Poetic Dreamer 


Tie me up and send me through the river of Nile.

In a boat, of an antique style.

Made of wood, with a captain to guide.

Leaving me to my thoughts for a while.

The thoughts that generate will coincide,

Whilst thinking of the waves and the rocking of the boat.

I'll never fear that we will cease to float.

As there won't be a towering tide.



Never take me to the shores.

Back to the life of mine that bores.

And write my thoughts for me on a note.

The inspiration that brings vibrance.

Through the waters along.

Making my thoughts beckon a song.


I lay still,

Hearing the winds that imbibe a vibe so ever chill.

Never wishing for nature's silence.

The utter experience that that may bring.

Would fuel rhythms and patterns that even songbirds daren't sing.

The captain of the boat nary says a word.

But the things that I will write must be absurd.


Hearing an environment's sounds but seeing nothing.

With the Captain's old fashioned lighter's clink.

It shows in my mind far more stranger things.

The smell of that vapor, curiosity springs.

Yet still I keep my eyes closed.

Then I would smell the burning haze.

And so much I would ask, when I would eventually come back home.

In the light of awe, I would soon bask.

Asking in an enthused inquisitive tone.

"What was it like? Sailing through the breeze?

Seeing beyond just the figments of the vegetation, animals and trees?"

The only reply would not be words.

But the illegible utterances of what I had asked to be written.

The words written on paper.

As I would read what I had tasted through the air and of a smell that I had written through thought.

I would realize that the other senses are more valuable to savor.

Than the visibility through ocular sight.

Deeming what I had thought to be some imaginary flavor.


The words I had written through rhythm and rhyme. 

I would begin to type.

And wish to once more be tied aboard a boat midsea.

Even if at an entirely different nautical site.

Never caring whether if t'was day or night.

To write about a unique mystery.

A mystery of something that I cannot see.

And wonder what t'was to me.

Through the pen and paper I will put my senses through.

Through an eternity.

Though then my senses will have died.

And as I previously did lie.

The imagination that drew the traces of letters and words through ink,

Will never sink fatally through time.

The ink on the paper will forever remain as an unfading dye.

But when someone reads it perhaps you, a passerby.

Will it cause you to also cry?

The final words of a poet.

The wisdom in ink that shalln't dry.

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Poet, Writer, and blogger of my own literary works and getting into crypto for fun.


Welcome to Charles Aldux's Literary Blog. As of 2022 I will have been writing Poetry for 13 years starting back when I was 12. I also write essays and short stories. Charles Aldux is a pseudonym consisting of a combination between my middle name Charles and the author of Brave New World, Aldous Huxley.

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