perchance to dream.
by Mark A. Rockeymoore
Monday, April 23, 2007
Not rated by the Author.
Print Save Become a Fan
What dreams, may come...
Third eye opens to darkness, roiling with potentiality. In the space above my head are dark bodies, insistent and gleaming with an inner light. Instead of words, there are feelings, and I get the sensation of shouting, of pleasure and pain, of deep conversations held at multiple levels of ethereal manifestation.
I feel a sensation at the region of the sacral plexus, and, in my astral form, look down to see a dark agglomeration, conscious and feeding, sucking at my essence, seeking to enter me at some specific point of weakness. As it burrows within me in a dark frenzy I consciously marshall my energies against its penetration, seeing it glow in frustration as its efforts are met by light, searing its astral flesh at the point of contact.
The darkness is rent by transmogrification.
Floating in a sea of whiteness, mind expanding, body diffused, points of consciousness existing, communicating at impossible distances, simultaneous creation, mind explicit, complicit with the very essence of existence. Open, wide, infinite senses bombarded by experience: love, hate, pain, pleasure, ecstasy and joy, an expansive, all-encompassing joy, sublime and infinite, caresses my consciousness like a suble lover.
Deeper motions, leviathan awakened by the nattering of plankton insistently scouring his flesh of an aeon's worth of barnacles. Earthy consciousness, turgid and presicent, ironic core considerations of celestial movements electrical and magnetic in nature. Organic and mineral being, consciousness rent by relentless attack, cancer-like in nature, humanity at the crossroads as Gaia groans, the torment of her inevitable cleansing a stark promise written in the stars.
Awaken I, open I eyes, wide, 3rd orb vision of consciousness unflinching awareness in the face of the fantastic. Terrific visions of blood and warfare, of a sky rent by fire and massive missles of interplanetary proportions, Nibiru's vast girth outshining the sun, the moon dwarfed in trembling awe as the celestical cohort trumpets the return of the King, all glory unbound.
Shifting beneath flimsy covering, the sunlight warms my eyelids and the birds outside sing of perfection and peace, secure. Awareness burgeons, nightly emanations recede into the dim recesses of consciousness and the morning's routine begins.
Want to review or comment on this
Click here to login!
Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Click here for your Membership!
|Reviewed by Missy Cross
|An epic work, linking the most personal struggle to the ongoing shifting of forces on the planet and in the universe. This is captivating!|
|Reviewed by Tinka Boukes
|Terrific feel to this one...my goodness you took me right into this poem...made me scream shout and drift along with you!!
Well done Mark!!
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|Feels like I feel. Love and peace to you,
|Reviewed by E T Waldron
|Bravo Mark! The exciting pace of your voice held me spellbound and the premise quickened my spirit. So good to read your enlightened poetry again! You've been missed!
|Reviewed by Sage Sweetwater
|This poet knows his existence and to marvel in it, ether, earth, and nether...perchance to dream manifests itself from hallucinatory psychedelic trippy African tie-die gray matter into a cosmic realm astral dance to a Zen temple-garden...my vision is to say that this mind-bender poem could convert the masses to Japanese Shinto...there is the Tibetan bowl ringing audible all throughout this literary opus...thus keeping alive and ministering to dreams in a synthesis of Shinto, Zen Buddhism, Tao sage, and folk religion...to wake the mind, to shock the students from the limits of conventional intelligence, Buddhism asks, "How do you get the goose out of the bottle?" Not by theoretical analysis or ideas, but by compassion it is that we are led to enlightenment...a silent "Ah!" Mark..."Ah!"
|Reviewed by Andre Bendavi ben-YEHU
|This adds value to The National Poetry Month, and ignites the dynamo of The American Fine Letters... "...perchance to dream" glows ~ paying its dues to Helicon's treasure.
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU