#Rainbow Palm #Paradise Hill #Wet Dream

#Rainbow Palm

Cross your palm with this sunlit rainbow's hue
Then cage and crush it, 'til it's naught but dew
And kill its beauty, as your tears pour like rain
Evanescing, Richard Of York Gave Battle In Vain

#Paradise Hill

There's a dream of an Eden on Paradise Hill
It's there beyond the yonder, where humanity's still
Tho' the choir's ethereal, perhaps it's a place of plenty
But the road is long and some say the church is empty

#Wet Dream

I'm drowning in a dream induced by gallons of Bud
Locked in a delirious dream of a technicolor flood
There are rivers and oceans and a waterfall pouring
And a cloying dampness beyond my slumbering snoring

#The Invisible Man #Mandarinfish #Poet

#The Invisible Man

The invisible man has gone to ponder and think
About writing his manuscript in his invisible ink
It's a novel idea, but he won't reach the masses
So there's nothing to write and he can't find his glasses

#Mandarinfish

An illusion of a tangerine dream? No, I'm a mandarinfish
And I'm a rainbow siren and mayhap your reality's wish
So come swim with me in the briny, tho' I'll not be specific
For I'm shoal you'll never find me in the depths of the Pacific

#Poet

Penning lines of turgid words
Obliging with adjectives like smelly turds
Eternally whimsical and they know it
The everyday life of any poet

She's The Ice In My Blood

She's a memory in the mist
And she's a silhouettes shadow
When she's gone it's like a trick
That chills down to the marrow
But when she's there, she's a flare
She's a luminous rainbow...
...and no honey is sweeter
She's an apocalypse pending...
...and a lotus eater

She's the famine and the feast
And the drought and the flood
She's a gentle caress of a zephyr
And she's the ice in my blood
She's an emotional sinkhole...
Or have I misunderstood?

But when she's there, who cares?
She's an hourglass pouring...
...and a passionate schemer
She's the most dangerous tryst...
...and a bohemian dreamer
But she's gone, without a trace
And there is no way to follow
In the shadows and silhouettes
Where she was, is now hollow

(21 - 6 - {25})

Cities In Flames (Fear)

(The Wrath and The Fear)

Consuming flames, of molotov cocktails, are borne from latent embers
Inside the burning metropolises will be the skulking anarchist pretenders
The renegade brigades, with their middle fingers raised, will run amok
It might be their time tomorrow to worry and intimidate the placid flock
Ending the days of law and order, they'll hide under the hood and mask
Self-righteous firebrands, fanning wrath and fear, is their egocentric task
In tomorrow's hours their movement will stake their unfounded claims
Nothing will be left to loot though, in the toxic waste of cities in flames
Fanatics of the delusional will reign when the modern civilisations fall
Leaving only ruins and bedlam, for we will have lost the urban sprawl
And nothing will stop their ravaging revolution; for the fire is stoked
Marauding in herds, when the lighters ignite rags, in kerosene soaked
Eerily quiet for now, but perhaps tomorrow we will be under attack
Somewhere, out there, are the anarchist arsonists readying to sack

Cities In Flames (Wrath)

(The Wrath and The Fear)

Clinging cinders from raging flames, are borne from a red hot ember
Inside the metropolises will be razed, for the urban guerrillas agenda
The insurgencies with incendiaries and kalashnikovs will run amok
It's their time, perhaps tonight, to readjust and turn back the clock
Executing deliriously barbaric plans, for the dragon has finally woke
Sending us to Hell, in the ash and smog, of the toxic burning smoke
In the hours of wrath and fear they will make unenlightened claims
Nothing will be left though, but the scorched earth of cities in flames
Fire will engulf us, for those mad messiahs will want to kill us all
Lest we bend the knee we're going to die in the nihilists pyres pall
And not even death will stop them, the bedlamite fire starters
Madness will be idolised and reborn in the usual myth of martyrs
Empires of evil will flourish as we hide and watch another city burn
Sending us into hellfire, if not tonight, then soon an evil eye will turn

Dirge Of The Dead

Do you hear somewhere, in the darkness, the sirens' song?
It's a pure and enrapturing choir, beyond mortality's throng
Rendering the blackest incantations, of a bewitching spell
Ghostly ephemeral, juxtaposed to a sagacious solemn knell
Each restless night's, unending passage, of troubled dreams
Opens the potential portals, of unnerving post-life themes
For those enchanting charms are by dark lamentations led
They are lifeless threnodies, they are the dirge of the dead
Hauntingly seductive and as alluring, as an umbra's clutch
Every note of conjuration is a caress of the othersides touch
Dystopian nightmares merge, where demons die in its thrall
Evaporating like misty phantoms under the approaching pall
And beyond ethereal psalms are seas of silence to be among
Do you hear them now, or are you already where you belong?

Oblivion

Life is measured in time, before it eventually slips

Like the fading last light of a permanent eclipse

As dusk turns to dark the shadows grow deeper

Past the last place of the unconscious lost sleeper

It was physically formed and then linearly aligned

But soon to be nowhere, like the passing of time

And nowhere is no place, there's nothing to share

It's not another dimension of a theory or prayer

Life slips away easily in the void of the sense-less

Into a vortex beyond any 'imaginable' consensus

Not a depth or a length from an invisible surface

Not any kind of space for an impossible purpose

It's not simple or complex, obvious or labyrinthian

It's the eternal white hole of the soul, it's: Oblivion

Purgatory's a state and it's not the perdition of Hell

Or even the sense of free falling into an infinite well

It's 'never' forever, it's an untouchable entity

Without any inkling of a perceptible identity

Life slips away constantly off an improbable edge

Into the silence of a non-place of colourless dread

It's an unseeable lightfall of inaudible sounds

And with nothing to feel, in nothing it drowns

In a crystal clear sea of a primordial formation

Far from the concept of any sentient creation

And without the imaginary line of a meridian

There is nothing at all, there is only: Oblivion

It's always for-never, it's deeper than sleep

Where everything goes the shadows can't creep

Heaven has gone and there're no angels or reaper

And no way back to find a conscious lost sleeper

Time can't elapse, therefore time has never passed

And when nothing exists the boundless is amassed

There was never a 'now', there'll never be a 'when'

For what's slipped away before will slip away again

Until every last trace of even an aura's relinquished

For in the untouchable dark every star is extinguished

When genesis is void there's just an infinity surplus

The desolate non-space of an impossible purpose

And when all has passed in a corporeal dominion

There's nothing to imagine, for all is: Oblivion...

So imagine it now, a picture in the eye of your mind

Perhaps an empty white space is the image you'll find

Imagine the nothingness of the untouchable entity

The unavoidable concept of your subliminal enmity

For beyond light is the night, a darkness like obsidian

And it's waiting for you, but it's nowhere, it's: Oblivion