diei somniumA Poem by Julius WhitfieldNaked bed, mountains and rivers of thoughtful influences lay beside me, conspiracy, commercials, dead, reality fills the pallid-turned-dim walls, it's an emptiness, a vague emptiness. Each glimpse, rag and toy has a story, an episode that leads a line of memory. outside lies a puzzle and if you can configure the problem, you'll soon find the beauty of what's inside. There's a mess of beauty, anchored by a lachrymose, plunged in the sea of malady. Piece together the broken fragments until the image progresses into a cadence.
I'm still in this callow
Flimsy spurts of cartoonish idols, mishaps but still worshipped and respected. Mental quicksands from poseurs followed by clowns and driven into a pandemic. What's so tangible about this ignorance. This lack of complaisance weakens any idea of ardency, leaving the area cold, sheltered and dissonant. I'm still in this callow, I guess And I can't get out
Open my head, Where I thought I was Dead, setting up the symmetry without any boundaries left to limit me. the sweet taste of cane sugar sufaces the smell of lead and the image of oblivion follow. Tow crimson eyes arrive. Both fixed on the sujective to sing to me in the voice of my angel. She has chosen me. But her image remains dark and foreign. Suspend my subconscious
the voice was familiar omnipotent by a dial her gloomy hand touches me running agile down my cheek then her soft cold lips tickles my hear and she tells me, "appeal will leave thy hear collapsing." and i know what would happen to me humility sinks me and it felt so unreal the numbness started at my head the pain is now hiding, veiled my nerves making me feel so alone i will wrestle this glory and the splendor will show it's lie covering me in apathy and paralysis like no drug had done ever before it begins to feel unreal the scene is pacing around me still i question why this has happened to me i can't see right now you'll help me won't you I can't see I can't move I can only feel and listen to the world around me i can't wake from the transcendency, not just yet
black sky, overhead, Indrid cold, bleeding red, hematite, death bed, prococious, goblin head, Angel's face, is now a cadaver
the face of decay that i could see takes place as my reflection, and the angel shows me that i will be this some day soon Her and others bury me in a shallow grave all their faces look like me something i didn't think i'd want to see, but i beckon these images Forgotten to how they welcome and please me again Shifting from the dirt covered grave, i transcend
black sky, overhead, Indrid cold, bleeding red, hematite, death bed, prococious, goblin head, Angel face, black head, crimson eyes, voice of lead, cadaver ghost stays malevolent...
and i awake.... © 2008 Julius Whitfield |
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Added on February 9, 2008 AuthorJulius WhitfieldSt Louis, MOAbout21 yr old artists (writing, music, drawing, and performances) who has been befriended by pencils for years. I like to report my life's experiences through poetry and comedy, which are most of the time.. more..Writing
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