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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 15:56:53 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 181071
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Hagiography
[time] => 2015-04-29 18:00:38
[hometext] => With thanks to Johnny Paycheck's 'Cave' and those here that encouraged my formative submissions.
[bodytext] => * * * Last night I had the strangest dream that I have ever dreamed. I was just a boy again, and though it never seemed like I had left those sandy shores that lined my boyhood town; I knew the footprints that I traced were mine upon the ground. And like most any young boy would, I fantasised a bit about the man I followed in whose shoes I'd like to fit; he would be a traveller, who'd sailed to many lands or he would be a sculptor who'd free beauty with his hands. And so I wandered on along the beaches and the dunes leavin' that old town behind with tuneless, whistled tunes, until I came upon a concrete pillbox from the war; this sentry made me stop and wonder what I followed for ... The entryway was sunk in sand but still, I crawled right in to feel a frozen breeze like breath send hackles up my skin. Before me gaped a stairwell slick with wet, and deep below there glowed an eerie light, of which the source I had to know. And so I crept down carefully upon the slippy stairs but my accursed soles gave out - I flew into the air. I landed like a ragdoll from the cradle, to my grave and cursed the growing light that glowed inside that dank, wet cave. Before my eyes gave out I glimpsed a silhouetted man; a dripping beard, a trident hefted deftly in one hand. I held my final breath in angst and surely feared the worst; he drove his spikes right through me, booming: "You shall be my First!" I sank into a sea of Whys and drowned in my despair; I still played with my soldiers, watching Mom die, from the stair. That kid was just a victim of a cruel and heartless truth: that innocence is priceless - and it's wasted on the youth. But as a man, I've since awoke to life - and it's not cursed. For only I can tell the tale of why I'm Neptunes_First. And though I left you long ago, well I guess I'm still the same; the same old tortured dreamer ... speaking in a cruel god's name. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 224 [topic] => 21 [informant] => neptunes_first [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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