He slides in and out of sleep,
abandoned in a gormless realm inhabited
by the everybodies who acknowledge
likebodies. Nobody knows him.
He is dispelled by hollow rites muffled
inside cavelike houses, gray specters seated
on petrified bones, imprisoned
in joyless laughter.
Under street lamps spitting green flames
lurks a council of insensate warlords
with wooly hair, flanked
by hooded hags and horned reptiles;
closing in on him a ragged army
of boorish grunts whose gnarled minds
propel them along dreary streets.
Pallid sons of some serpent spirit
of sleepless sleep emerge from catacombs,
stalk him, taunt him the alien, shred
his cultivated cloak, attempt to disabuse him,
rob him of reason
and identity.
He is the threat, the ominous tramontane,
the unsullied wind from the north,
the foreigner, casualty of restless intellect
trapped in obscurity.
Guided by the black sun,
he seeks a way out of this decaying realm
down dank infested alleys,
gags on the stench of monster scorpions,
grave worms, killer ants, feasting
on the spoils of demented dogs.
He flees the foul odors
to arid border canals laced
with poison briers and jagged rocks,
havens for pit vipers lying in wait,
scratches his way up seamless inclines
that go nowhere and never end.
Watched by dimwitted demons
who size him up the social miscreant,
he stumbles, pursued into the bowels of the night;
awakens to the arrhythmic toll of bells
in a time unknown, panics.
In this hostile state of delirium,
he confronts his gotterdammerung,
a menacing shadow silhouetted
on the wall of his will
to stay awake.
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(& I love "gormless")
in that place where the grace of a mind slips freely in and out of fear and panic and dementia and delusion and dread. . .. .
and the way youve conjured a head.case.space and all its frenetic.ism.....the things it spits [sp]out and despises......
is chilling and thrilling and makes me feel absolutely itchy and demented when i read of all the black slithery things that beg to be noticed; where is the garish light when you need it?
such is the beginning of the beginning of the end of sunshine;
the solstice mad.man stands alone................
he needs a chamber.mate.
this is so tell.tale.telling.....
indeed.
nessxo
Regis
Newfie hugs, Rose
Peace & Inspirations
Vickie
He slides in and out of sleep,
abandoned in a gormless realm inhabited
by the everybodies who acknowledge
likebodies. Nobody knows him.
and how he confronts the ostracism and maintains his individuality:
In this hostile state of delirium,
he confronts his gotterdammerung,
a menacing shadow silhouetted
on the wall of his will
to stay awake.
- David
Sheila
Love,
Chanti Lace xoox
Be always safe,
Karen
You force me to go with you into the twilight of the gods, a place I try to avoid but am drawn to by my own nature, and drawn by your splendid, powerful pen, a noose and a magnet. Superbly written, each verse a personal halloween, the entire poem a dark public occasion.
John
"He slides in and out of sleep, / abandoned in a gormless realm inhabited / by the everybodies who acknowledge / likebodies. Nobody knows him."
"He is the threat, the ominous tramontane, / the unsullied wind from the north, / the foreigner, casualty of restless intellect / trapped in obscurity."
I am seldom left speechless... ~leslie
Blessings, Love, and Better Dreams - Micke
A strong statement from a tortured soul taking over the inspirational muse to guide the poet's hand.
Georg
"pursued into the bowels of the night;
awakens to the arrhythmic toll of bells
in a time unknown, panics.
...flashback!
Love,
Sage
((((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
stan
Myrna
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :)