To Die In Dreams

If you die while dreaming, will you live forever?

To walk beside a sun-kissed coast in a sea of heather

Beyond the temporal grip and any cerebral query

Are there ambrosian tracts of an eternity theory?

Alighted there and aware, but then cast adrift

To be reborn in lustrous warmth from the graveyard shift

Might rainbows rise in the twinkling twilight hours

Above a pastoral swathe of aromatic flowers

All the cryptic wonders as you wander, or simply dither

Nectarous lakes; glass mountains, in a heat haze, quiver

Kings and Queens gambolling on checkered lawns

Bishops in castles, knights scattering pawns...

...And intangible faces from the past and a long lost lover

Melancholic and abstract, detached, in the arms of another

Slippery snakes on slopes; ladders climbing to clouds

Alpacas and llamas, calmly harnessed and pulling on ploughs

Not if, but is, as you stand at the apex of vertiginous cliffs

Towering white sea walls etched with your lives hieroglyphs

And do you hear an angelic choir, or something more appalling?

Drawing you closer to the edge; another step and you're...

...To die in dreams, is to live forever

In surreal scenarios watch the world untether

With a newly found clarity all is seen clearly

As eternity expands beyond any threadbare theory

A Mocking Flock

As I stand upon the country lane

Beyond the hedge is the flock of pain

With a furtive glance back to the farm

My heart is racing, but still I'm calm

With my master nowhere to be seen

I could start work, as I'm very keen

My coat is shiny and my nose is wet

Now into the field I need to get

Across a boggy ditch I need to dredge

To find the gap that's in the hedge

And then I'm through to make my stand

Upon the lambs lush pasture land

Disdainful eyes look upon this collie

Mocking bahs at my brazen folly

Amongst the flock there's an air of scorn

There's no reverence, I feel forlorn

I try to gather, but they disperse

I try a bark, a doggy curse

If they could they'd laugh to mock

One dog; no chance, against the flock

Then upon the lane the sound of a familiar pick-up truck

And if I could curse I'd say what the f..., such bad luck!

As it stops and idles beside the field's gate

My master calls me, but I'm sure he won't berate

Back in the warmth of home I now reflect

That those damn lambs have no respect

But no matter, for it's surely time for lunch

And I'll be back, that's my vengeful hunch

The World Reversed

In a dream, I dream of milling shadows

I follow down corridors with my unturned tarots

I try to find, to reach, to know what's present

But they seem afar 'neath a flickering fluorescent

The Hanged Man's flipped and I throw the card

He floats to a floor, as his eyes regard

I want to seek and find; I want to hide and cower

With failing fortitude I lift and look... it is The Tower

I'm running in reveries to an absorbing umbra

Detached and distant from where I slumber

And now I see the shades of silhouettes all transforming

As the deck in hand radiates heat, to them it's calling

The Hanged Man's flipped and now Death's the card

It floats in flames, to fall and settle, half ash, half charred

And then, The World Reversed, by an open door

With the reality that was, now from a life before

'Twas a dream in a dream of milling shadows

Now I'm here with them and playing from packs of tarots

There's ambient light, a flickering fluorescence

And beyond The Tower, The Moon's a permanent presence

How Will It End?

How will it end? Do you think you need to know?... if so
Open your mind to find, in murky depths, a foreboding show
Without hope I fear, 'tis clear, but you'll find some clarity
With regards to the last breath and death of all humanity
In this pitiless mire immerse your sanity's dread
Look to not what was, but to the end ahead instead...
Locusts swarming over blighted fields of scattered ashes
In desert storms thunder rolls around lightning flashes
The bloated fetid ocean; the heat and acid reigns, nothing hinders
Everything, everywhere, torn asunder and burnt to cinders...
Now take a breath that isn't death, for the air is not yet poisoned
Dwell not in murky depths, arise, with eyes aghast and moistened