Posts Tagged ‘Dreams’

The days insanity has come to an end,
Your body is weary,
Its defences worn down to soft grain,
Your head pounds with harmful influences,
You lay it down to recuperate,
Upon your factory of dreams,

Unforeseen the silence crawls over you,
And with it the demons multiply,
Salivating over the cracks in your psyche,
Malicious maneuvers in the dark,
They would ravage you like countless hypodermic needles,
Save for the defence resting above your bed,

An arcane symbol from the first nations,
Molded of willow and spider sinew,
Spindly weaponry of Asibikaashi,
A conduit through which your dreams can be mobilised,
As an aetheric crusade against the night,
Old magic to protect you until the morn.

I descend in to my sarcophagus,
To rejuvenate this faded corpus,
To replace grey with luminosity,
My self-imposed hypnosis,
Death with benefits,
My nightly reprieve,

Hither to my closed eyes comes a slideshow,
Disjointed images with no rhyme nor reason,
Castles riding upon clouds and birds flying backwards,
Conversations that never occurred and lessons never taught,
Stars playing chess with bolts of silk,
Vagaries and illusions in tropical colours,

My sense becomes a nebula,
Colourful and vibrant in the extreme but vaporous,
This nightly madness has done its due,
I awaken scarred and grinning,
Feeling ever more liberated but less stable,
A clown ready for the banal day,

Until my next death,
Next rest.

I am surrounded by the Immaterial,
Fingers and faces I cannot see,
Like a wind tunnel splaying out to the heavens,
I feel it swirling around me like unnatural wind,
It’s like being submerged in icy water that pulses,

I dont know from whence this supernatural force materialised,
A heretofore unknown elemental dynamic,
Whispers and hymns sung in flux,
Butterflies and figures waltzing in florid vividity,
Their colours unaffected by the dusts of the air,

I dont know what these spectres want from me,
Be they incorporeal apparition or trick of the mind,
The whispers that I can’t help but heed,
Be it sorcery or illusion,
The tingles upon my skin that I cannot feel,

I am haunted by the Immaterial,
A force that sends my senses in to spasm,
Disbelief sprouts from my very mind,
And yet I cannot deny it,
This ever-present wind that screeches to itself,
Neither friend nor foe.

I sit reclined upon this scathing sand,
With the resort of the present behind me,
Belly laughs and dances and skipping,
And the broiling sea of the past before me,
Do-overs and regrets and flashbacks,

I spy herds of elephants migrating along the horizon,
A parade of weighty emotions,
Carrying memories myriad of years past,
Mirages of yesteryear images against the sunset,
Fizzing above the waves,

The herd continues unabated,
Each heavy footfall was pachyderm remembrance,
A weighty vision of events past,
My brain sits astride them gazing back at me,
Quizzically inquiring why I look upon their assemblage of years gone,

Why look back?
Why hark to the trumpeting?
Forget the elephants and pain,
They do not walk in your future.

The pillow to my side,
Whereupon caressed a head not my own,
Has quite a special scent,
A scent that mesmerises,

The scent swirls in my mind,
Filling me with calm and zeal,
A menagerie of sweet thoughts,
A roiling euphoria,

A reminder of the day before,
And the darling who graced it,
A sleeping beauty,
And a waking one,

An ally,
All curves and pale skin,
A companion,
All mascara and piercings,
A true friend.

A new nomad comes to town,
A feathered chapeau,
A ripped coat,
And a silver tongue,
They say he is a wandering maestro.

His guitar is a sight to behold,
Well-used and with prismatic countenance,
It pulses with powers unseen,
A simple coin in his hat,
And you open yourself to untold marvels,
His music will show you the way.

Sit down and have a listen.

Dreams are his gift to you,
Each chord is a promise of hope,
Each strum of the guitar,
Sends dreams of paradise up on wings,
As he continues to play,
Your soul ignites with inspiration.

Why does he do it?
Dreams are his way of seeing the world,
He sees only what the world could be,
He wants you to see it too,
His eyes are cloudy and dead.

He went blind eons ago.

Maestro

So i woke up yesterday morning (Well i say morning, i believe it was actually about 1 pm) and turned over to Lee, who had also just woken up. You see, we often have these silly little conversations about how our sleep was and also whether we remembered any dreams we may of had.

On this occasion Lee actually had remembered one of her dreams. She did more often than me. Always.

The dream she described was both pretty creepy and awesome at the same time. Lee described being given a pumpkin as some kind of gift. That’s bizarre to begin with, but it gets stranger. She said that the pumpkin kept feeling like it was moving slightly. After a while the pumpkin sprouted 6 legs, akin to a crabs and started messing up the house. Lee said she somehow expected it to sprout two arms complete with crab claws.

How very bizarre, it’s not even Halloween anymore.

The whole reason i decided to hurriedly write a whole blog post about it is simply because of the image it conjured in my head. The image, or something close to it, is the picture i drew here.I think it’s interesting how a description of a fictional creature or object, however vague, can conjure up images like this. I love it!

IMAG0034

I know i’m no artist!