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The Madman, "Yes, three days, three centuries, three aeons. Strange they would always weigh and measure. It is always a sundial and a pair of scales."

Sunday, May 1, 2011

WAVES OF DEPRESSED DAZE


Eyelids, tuned to the seductive psychedelic riffs of Pink Floyd’s guitar,
Open rather reluctantly
And shut immediately,
Taking in the dreamy scene of dopey waves
Of blue blankets and cream ceiling and a drunk fan,
Rising and falling without rhythm,
Mixing without much effort into the drugged air that has lost its sense of miscibility.
The so usual depressing deja vu,
So abhorred,
So feared,
So droolingly welcomed.

Deep blue.
Purple.
Almost black.
Silky viscous smoke.
Thoughts.
Intoxicating cocktail of visions
Concocted in a loony brain’s cauldron of unhindered imagination.
Rising rising rising,
Losing form into a churning mass of mesmerized clouds
That rain their delicious drops of sweet poison
That seeps quickly underground
Straight to the stiff roots
That have held firm so long the swaying, unstable structure
On which banks
The complete whole of entirety.

This corroded contraption manages to work sometimes-
Bright-white, split-second sparks of fits and starts
In a world of deep dark dismal disappointment.
Never meant to last
Yet expected to run until a distant forever.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

THE LAST LAP




Swarms of revelry-maniacs,
Not dancing anymore;
Effigies of burning dreams,
Taking over;
The often hasty Time,
On the inevitable standstill,
Making way for the drastic meanders filing in;
Victory at hand, failure in the face.

The tune I am playing is off-key,
My rhythm has gone berserk;
Hunting and digging out
Long ago buried bygones,
Rituals that had been
Long laborious lives;
Dressed in the perfect suit for the ball,
I have thrown open
A perfectly chaotic brainless-paintball-party;
Two thoughts to melt the steel mansion
That took twenty ages to erect;
Starry eyes and a battle-battered body,
Bustling with pride,
Only a grab away from the knob
That opens the final door;
Only a sea to cross;
A violent sea that creeps in silently,
A sea marching right behind me;
I saw it all along
And ignored slyly,
A sea I know only too well,
A sea of self-destruction,
A sea that drowns the dismal sound of the death knell;
The sound of the death-knell…