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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 15:51:03 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 128725
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => ultimatly vauge
[time] => 2006-11-27 06:43:42
[hometext] => work in progress.....
[bodytext] => Gods mercy I shall hope for, I have purged my soul but It is ultimately vague…. Blood drips on the page, your eyes are fixed on your watch. Your mouth works over a strand of someone else’s golden hair. Ignoring the blood as I bleed slow like the tears of a poet. Draining my self to the summit and then I let go…. I stand before the Black Gates across a line only desperate men cross. I’m desperate yes, but life still holds to great a pull…. I turn and run in the quicksand of infinity sinking sinking, is there any escape. And I fall through the mist unreal subconscious and awake behind my eyes lids like great stone doors thrown wide as I gasp for life’s breath, free from my death dream delirium…. The watchman angel on the end of my bed shakes his head and spits out the hair of my dead longing long gone for all my longings…. I will have him I cry as he walks through my brain to the unreal reality of paradise left of the Black Gates, that my conscious now mocks in the new daylight. I am alone my visions of the divine and the desolate safely locked away behind the veil that keeps my mind from breaking. All unreal now behind the veil filter of that keeps men sane and enables them to open there mouths without the weight of infinity pouring foth. I am awake now but part of me wants to return, part of me fears it more but all of me know there is no choice…. I get up pull of the trappings of the night and stand naked in the window, wishing I was in some sacred field green instead of an anonymous London apartment.… The mirror deep vain truth whispers, ‘your eyes tell other men’s lies’. The other thinks I am insane and taps his finger to his head to tell me so. All the children are insane some just carry it better…. Sometimes I’m up and sometimes I’m down and don’t you forget it. I’m am my self but I do not seem, I must seem before leave this room. I don’t want to scare anybody!.... Alarm! Plesent nudity must be covered. If only the whole world could go uncovered. Then there would be nothing to hide, nothing. Nothing except the deep infinity behind the eyes, beyond the brain the naked soul…. Men can be gods, monsters or heroes in there minds. Oh to take a trip beyond the eyes of the photograph, faded between forefinger and thumb. Then I would know why. !Why!Why!Why! Why?.... Enough. Now is the time for work, monotonous toil to distract. I close the door on the Room of Dreams, with it’s velvet sheeted pillows, soft slabs of torture. Sweet pain pleasure, doom deliverance. Filtered truth I will see you again tonight… Down I lie down on springed slab. Warm and secure in an infinite pocket of pitch blackness… I unpack my mind and await the Watchman Angel as the pills dissolve bitterly and swim upstream, a slow shot to the head. My Angel, my guardian as I brave the depths, he emerges wings unfurled. Closed eyes open mind… I hold forth the golden hairs of broken dreams and illusions past. I take the candle to light my way, I will go deep tonight. But I will return to tell the tale, and life will be all the more… I lift the veil, slide of the lid, take the step. I’m falling. The unconscious has no floor. The black, the white, the grey, the weighted stretched thickening silence… …Where is that candle?.... The rooms walls are red the carpet plush pink, garish golden chandelier hangs low. I am I different to the décor… I am a cannibal, but my perversion brings no pleasure. I spit, I bite, I chew. My victim lives, he breaths deep he pants, he moans. My teeth excite. I straddle his back. Luscious lust naked flesh. Curse compelled without satisfaction… The devil sit in my hair cackling in plain clothes, cracking his cruel whip. He rolls the dice as gremlins on my finger tips lay bets and sip blood from tea cups. Not a drop of his precious is blood wasted… Jesus is an acrobat. He swings upside down, suspended from his toes, the chandelier creeks. His carpenter hands massage my aching head. He speaks in riddles. The answer is certainly not in the shivering carcass beneath me….. Still breathing. Sickly sweet corn syrup mess…still breathing?!.... I must know! I turn his neck …it’s him! Who else would follow me down so deep? Who else would grace my nightmares? I must know!..... I gouge out my lovers eyes. Beautiful autumn brown. I look inside…and still I can not see! Why! Why! Tell me why! How I miss you…… [comments] => 1 [counter] => 153 [topic] => 73 [informant] => PLformalyknownasPpaul [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )
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