Dream Scribe

2022-10-31 21:56:00 (UTC)

A Playful Set Of Verses.


She bit off
too big a bite
of Zora's mushroom.
Sleep took her away
to a foreign land
where blight~free
toadstools composed
death chants
by day
; living poems
by night.

The huge, yellow moon
dipped its feet
in tears of pale silver,
and bathed
with light.

They chain themselves
to the best version
of nothing,
and consummate no heed
to The Sandman's

We grew up where
blue corn flowers
and red poppies ;
roses and luscious,
purple grapes
would never fruit and bloom.
The wasteland was
our playground
and crazy was our
lifelong song.

Zora's mushroom
fell into the fire
and burnt to
a crisp, black disc.
If I crush it
and mix it
with a few
Drops of Jupiter,
it would be perfect
to sketch dreams with.

From the deep ache
of a Fiery Womb,
a Gold Star will appear
as a sounding trump
for every eager guest
that sees.
And when the madness
of the music
starts Hailing "Hallelujah!"
Black Swans will ferry
their pre~mortal souls
across .The Eventide.
Peace shall elude them
every one.
Peace they shall reject
And Peace they shall forget.

The tectonic plates
that are my mind,
shift wildly ; mercilessly,
creating new upheavals,
low depressions ;
great mountains.
One day,
not so far away,
I will feel
Brand New.
The cunning method
to my madness
counts for nothing
when I stand next to
The Janitor's cupboard.
From rags to riches
every time.

Love comes first ;
Love comes last ;
Love comes early ;
Love comes never ;
Love comes later ;
Love arrives on time,
Or love never comes at all.
Don't mess with fucked up
Monsieur In-Between.