Bizarre Dreams
When i explore the alleyways of my thoughts,
oft times i turn the corners and find,
things that come quite unexpectedly,
from a hundred tinkling crystal prisms,
glowing rainbows in a thousand directions.
To worm infected corpses rotting, reeking,
reaching to embrace me with a kiss of death.
A witch on her burning pyre, alive briefly,
her eyes burning into mine, brighter than
the fire that consumes her innocence.
Jim's butterflies and zebras, his dreams
infecting me with visions of his imagery.
A wizard in a pentacle, unexpectedly called
into this far stranger world of dreams.
He talks of griffins and dragons,
tells me tales to entertain, incanting
madly all the while to escape his momentary
prison in a pentagram, not knowing it
was a spell of his own that bound him.
An all seeing eye peers upon me,
unblinking and passive, retaining all
the magic encountered on these roads,
woven like a spiders web in my mind.
Aslan the jungle king, lion supreme,
his strength runs through me, a spring,
flowing with love and power, the master
of Narnia, he makes life of death.
Slitted yellow eyes of a demon, evil
made flesh, this creeping horror.
Foul stench of burning bodies, reeking death,
he comes to belch forth his terror,
screaming with ecstasy, he tortures
my over burdened soul with taunts of
lost chances and broken dreams.
The phoenix soaring to her bed of fire,
that consumes all of what she was,
her golden egg all that remains.
Cracks appear, and her only child,
her reproduction, rises from her smoking coals,
screaming with an orphans anger.
The clouds, they live and speak to me,
booming their billowous secrets that
puff away like so much smoke.
Vines overgrow a temple of the sun,
gripping the mock like a falling man.
Souls that have died here uncounted,
their still pumping hearts held in
bloody glory by an unwashed priest,
caked in the gore of sacrificial rites.
A bonfire burns in a frozen moor.
Stone in an outer ring, circling this
pre-celtic ring of elders that chant
their wisdom gleaned from the gods.
This world in my mind is ever changing.
I never know what to expect next,
traveling on these roads, one must be wary,
for those dreams, those spirits that call me,
sometimes they bite. Others heal me,
protect and guide me, comfort in despair,
a cool drink in the burning fires of hell.
A dream i dream this nite, one i do not recall,
though i strain to remember.
And so i pass it by, for i have another,
thousand alleyways that need exploring,
that beckon my mind with mystery.
oft times i turn the corners and find,
things that come quite unexpectedly,
from a hundred tinkling crystal prisms,
glowing rainbows in a thousand directions.
To worm infected corpses rotting, reeking,
reaching to embrace me with a kiss of death.
A witch on her burning pyre, alive briefly,
her eyes burning into mine, brighter than
the fire that consumes her innocence.
Jim's butterflies and zebras, his dreams
infecting me with visions of his imagery.
A wizard in a pentacle, unexpectedly called
into this far stranger world of dreams.
He talks of griffins and dragons,
tells me tales to entertain, incanting
madly all the while to escape his momentary
prison in a pentagram, not knowing it
was a spell of his own that bound him.
An all seeing eye peers upon me,
unblinking and passive, retaining all
the magic encountered on these roads,
woven like a spiders web in my mind.
Aslan the jungle king, lion supreme,
his strength runs through me, a spring,
flowing with love and power, the master
of Narnia, he makes life of death.
Slitted yellow eyes of a demon, evil
made flesh, this creeping horror.
Foul stench of burning bodies, reeking death,
he comes to belch forth his terror,
screaming with ecstasy, he tortures
my over burdened soul with taunts of
lost chances and broken dreams.
The phoenix soaring to her bed of fire,
that consumes all of what she was,
her golden egg all that remains.
Cracks appear, and her only child,
her reproduction, rises from her smoking coals,
screaming with an orphans anger.
The clouds, they live and speak to me,
booming their billowous secrets that
puff away like so much smoke.
Vines overgrow a temple of the sun,
gripping the mock like a falling man.
Souls that have died here uncounted,
their still pumping hearts held in
bloody glory by an unwashed priest,
caked in the gore of sacrificial rites.
A bonfire burns in a frozen moor.
Stone in an outer ring, circling this
pre-celtic ring of elders that chant
their wisdom gleaned from the gods.
This world in my mind is ever changing.
I never know what to expect next,
traveling on these roads, one must be wary,
for those dreams, those spirits that call me,
sometimes they bite. Others heal me,
protect and guide me, comfort in despair,
a cool drink in the burning fires of hell.
A dream i dream this nite, one i do not recall,
though i strain to remember.
And so i pass it by, for i have another,
thousand alleyways that need exploring,
that beckon my mind with mystery.
Published by David Lanier
Born and raised in Salt Lake City, Utah. Grew up working in the family business. Worked at the Grand Canyon in'93, and fell in love with the power of nature. Spent some time in the Army. Married for a few ye... View profile
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4 Comments
Post a CommentQuite a masterful piece of work. Astounded, I return again and again to decipher what I may have missed. I feel there is a deep entry into the writer's mind; a man who has walked paths of war and life but who seeks a peaceful fulfilment in his soul despite the demons that haunt us, taunting our minds. I feel a kindred spirit, reading this fabulous piece and yet also a scholar with many questions!
awesome imagry!
I appreciate how intricate and esoteric your poetry is. :)
It's great to know that I'm not the only one who "sees" things. :) Great!