diei somnium

diei somnium

A Poem by Julius Whitfield

Naked 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

Author

Julius Whitfield
Julius Whitfield

St Louis, MO



About
21 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