The Glorious Dream of the Prisoner

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is based on several dreams, at times rendered in pose and poetry.

Submitted: December 01, 2011

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Submitted: December 01, 2011

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All glorious madness now,

In subtle shimmering waves

Throughout the night,

The pulse moves me

Like a spectre,

To roam forbidden hills,

Linger in long taboo shadows,

And contemplate for sleep

In the arms of placebo tattooed lovers;

 

The tethers grow oh so taut

As I strain to flee upward,

Determined to soar unhindered

In the golden thunder clouds,

But wires and witches hold me down,

Plucking at my moaning sex,

My shame and deadened weight,

While I plead for salvation;

 

For once I stood in a lofty place,

Or some suburb of such a height,

And stood with friendly strangers

Who took their own lives

Once upon a time –

Many were there fishermen,

Many were there thieves,

And many a doubting sinner

Too broken to believe.

 

All in that shattered cavalcade,

I kept within my mind’s eye,

To savour when the dreaming wind

Left me becalmed without a whisper;

So it was I lay sore and stricken,

With bitches on piano-wire beds,

My eyes leaping to escape

While my heart envied the lost.

 

Then a messiah walked the land,

Of blessed and blistered glamour

With eyes of cold blue fire,

And a robe of samite thread;

He called me from my donjon,

With a voice of sonorous tones,

And I heard the hum of locust wings

With a chorus of atonal zithers.

 

God my god of forsaken visions –

 

Lord of dreams he called to me

To bring to him his daily due,

And the bitches unmade my vexing prison

So my vows of fealty I could renew;

Part honied wine, part dust of ages,

Part powdered bone of saints and strangers,

All mixed within a silver goblet

And taken all, to each last droplet.

 

This I offered unto his lips

With a single outstretched hand,

Marvelling at the silvered glitters

That adorned his reddened cheeks;

His eyes watched me always,

Seeing the stains on my soul

Redder than the deepest rhenish blood

And bearing Judas’ blemished kisses.

 

He drank his due with relish

His barbed tongue licking up the drops,

And bade me kneel with a single motion

While he savoured my offering;

His feet were clawed and in sandles,

The nails painted in golden laqer,

All this I beheld at his feet,

Waiting on his baleful proclamation.

 

The word came onto me buzzing,

A resolution of liberation,

My heart sung out again with life

As he drew me to my feet,

His touch was a cold, a fever,

My messiah of barbed feet,

And his words became a song

I strained to listen to…

 

Fly far away, my dreaming son,

Play forever in my skies,

Make love to my sweet angels

And worship their golden thighs;

Leave off they silver tether

That binds you to your misery,

Live on in a gentle whisper,

And forever walk with me!

 

So scornful had been my days

That passed in the life outside,

So broken had been my heart til then

That I pondered this suicide;

Was it better to serve in Heaven,

Or linger on in this Hell?

To change up my clay-trodden soul

For this fearful, wondrous well.

 

But I remembered falling in my sleep,

I recalled cold supplication,

The wires dug into my flesh

While sirens toyed with my passion;

I remembered sunrises on the water

Beheld with my waking eyes,

And my thirst to lay down my troubles

Weakened with the taint of his lies.

 

I flew then, of my own accord,

Amid my lord’s shout of fiendish rage,

And the bitches screamed greedy pleadings

To have their animal back in its cage;

I soared, tears streaming down my face,

Grief beating steadily in my heart,

As the shine of that world grew dim,

And the colours began to fade.

 

I awoke with a startled choke,

Staring around the room in confusion,

The tatters of my strange dream fading

Rendered back to madness and delusion;

I wept for the loss of my strangeness,

The loss of that vivid and terrible world,

Looking across the field of my blanket

To where my toes poked out, uncurled.

 

Fly far away, dreaming son,

Play never more in my skies,

Deny the sweetness of my angels

And defy the wonder of their thighs;

You will never find the peace

I offered, in my giving vein,

And this world will be a hell for you

That a happy couple did once profane!

 

With a heavy heart I donned my cap

Upon a once more weary head,

And although my soul cried out for sleep

I decided to go for a walk instead;

The night was falling away in blues,

Leaving me with pink, orange, and yellow,

And I beheld the beauty of the dawn

Counting myself a lucky fellow.

 

For although I would never fly again

To those lands of tempting and terrible beauty,

This world is enough to keep my heart alive,

Even without such glimpses of divinity.


© Copyright 2017 Thomas Black. All rights reserved.

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