Dying in a Dream

Dying in a Dream

I lie on the simmering asphalt.

Warm vitality drips unsympathetically 

From this mortal piercing

And coldness lazily oozes over me

Like the slow trickle of melting ice.

I lie, the observer of a still-life portrait;

Of houses, of hills, of sunset…

I can see them all,

Falling further and further

Beyond my grasp; becoming unfocused.

I lie and wait for the grim finale…

When existence fades to black.

Oneiromancy

Oneiromancy (The Surprise Party)

February’s final days had diminished

And I dreamt apocalyptic dreams

Of hellfire threads weaving infernal

Tapestries throughout perpetually

Unbroken raven-hued clouds.

I wandered without the slightest

Breath of hope as the ground shook

And snuffed away beneath my wary feet,

Cascading into the molten abyss,

From where all life began,

And closing the circle.

Around me, crowds of broken people

Despaired at the unforeseen end;

The lunatics ran rampant through

Arkham,

While the children curled up

On the streets in the pouring rain

And wept for Neverland… forever lost.

Then there I was, awash in shame,

Staring down at bloodied, bone-bare

Knuckles… my badge of rejected honor

After a moment of weakness,

And wondering if we

Deserved this horror in obsidian and fire…

Did we reap what we had sown?

And yet… as flesh melted from my limbs,

The sun broke on a raw

February morning and I found myself

Not standing at the end of all things,

But walking a continuing, sign-less journey

To the middle…

…happy birthday to me.

Bedtime Stories

Bedtime Stories

Sleeping…

Happily departed

To a breathlessly wondrous

Dreamscape.

Waking…

Dolefully incarcerated

In prosaic reality.

30 Day Poetry Challenge - Day Seventeen

Day Seventeen - Use volta (a poetic turn) in a poem of any length (it can be a sonnet, or not).




The Slumbering Sonnet
 
The moonlight sparkled on a lazy pond,
As rippling winds dispelled its glassy sheen,
A weary boatman settled back and yawned,
And dreamt a little tantalizing scene.
Solar inferno-scorched volcanic lakes,
An airy heat-haze shimmering with gold,
A dancing mystic shaman plagued by aches;
The rueful debt incurred by getting old.
But as four naked penguins climbed palm trees,
And coconut-shaped bubbles blew away,
The boatman’s dream-filled eyes saw only seas
Of periwinkle blue and skies of gray.
And yet, though ten-mile tides came crashing in,
The weary boatman woke with giddy grins.

Ethereal Aphrodite

Ethereal Aphrodite 

I go to sleep and see her radiant face,

Her eyes like sapphires, brilliant in their shine,

Her pinkish lips that smile with sultry grace,

And silky autumn locks in waves, divine.

While hand in hand, we stroll along the shore,

Bathed in moonlight’s glow and ocean’s spray,

We share a laugh, a burning kiss, and more;

A luminous love, not soon to fade away.

But yet her hair, her eyes, our love ring false,

A phantom in my ever-longing mind,

And when the morning’s wakeup rudely calls

I’m left to leave my lover far behind.

A silent voice then whispers and I beam,

That someday she will cease to be a dream.

Subconscious Free For All

Subconscious Free For All

By Brandon Palzkill

I had that dream again last night…

The Brew Crew played a home game

On a graham cracker diamond

Set with marshmallow bases.

The batter hit a high home run

Shattering the chocolate scoreboard

Then he stole home and ate it up.

The game ended and I found myself

Out in the parking lot,

Falling in a quantum anomaly,

Sucked right back where I began.

I lost myself in a temporal loop…

I lost myself in a temporal loop…

I lost myself in a temporal loop…

I lost myself in a temporal loop…

I lost myself… I hung a sharp left.

I left that loop behind me

And wandered into a china shop,

Absolutely bursting with bulls

Of every possible shape and size;

Gold, silver, rubber, plastic,

Glass, paper, cubic zirconia…

I couldn’t understand the fuss;

All they did was stand there.  

The Monkees, on the other hand

Burst in the shop just behind me

And they knew how to cause a ruckus;

They shook the walls with no difficulty

And really rattled the displays.

The scattered heard of trampled

Bulls littered the tiled floor

And me without my shoes... That hurt.

I hobbled painfully along,

Bleeding, broken, befuddled

By the flying squirrels zooming overhead,

Eagerly humming

And dropping smoking acorns

On the unsuspecting heads

Of a squadron of squabbling squawks.

I scampered off to find some shelter

Within a psychedelic prism

Where Bob Hope and Bing Crosby

Were playing the back nine

And bragging about their space exploits

While sea creatures poked their heads out

From beneath the water traps

To eat their jawbreaker golf balls.

My god, they were boring old men.

I strolled onto the ocean

To put some distance between us.

I watched fish scratch the surface

Of the ocean dunes beneath my feet

And they looked surprised to see me.

The shark looked delighted, however;

An electric-blue megalodon

Jonesing for an afternoon snack.

I couldn’t see the depths

Behind it’s salivating mouth,

But nobody lives forever,

So I slathered myself ketchup

And faced it like a champ.

Then the dream ended; I woke up.

And that’s when things got weird…