LOST IN THOUGHT
Where will I stand
amongst these putrid white rinds?
Carriages of the mind that spew hot dust,
stuff of dreams.
Laid down for eternity
'cross slab stone lines.
Off in hiatus worlds away
'long rapid streams.
They litter this hall;
a sacrificial pit.
Resting in viscid rose madder
the carriages dreamt
of dark haunts in full figure
racing 'round you,
a hollow mirror.
The sinewy skin unraveled,
it was so beautiful
in acquiescence,
my body made to deliquesce,
through erratic pulses,
a frothy musical,
like wine to the flesh
while my mind regressed.
My carriage beside others dreamt in its
blood bed
as these thoughts transposed
into another head.
I was a phantom face
taking in the view,
eyes awestruck with fear
for foreign foes and fiends.
Cacophonous screams and shouts
writhing near the pew,
the Catholic and the Idol lover
now discover guillotined,
toiling through fields built
from charred flesh not of birth,
the light bearer and maker
of sadistic mirth.
I was a phantom face
taking in the view.
A mahogany feast,
flesh wrapped with fresh bark,
draped upon shriveled cloths
of sour fruit skewed
behind the mass
of tangled elk horns, dark
within the wrath
of a swarm of flies;
this false haze
for which my self lies.
I was a phantom face
taking in the view.
A slur of raucous shrilling taunts
reverberate down the hall,
they stake a side,
once fight has died,
with rue their thoughts are laden.
A little shattered Tiffany lamp
thrown before the wall.
A heart pound in the window slits
sheds light into this dust filled tomb,
it's bleeding ul' surely heal
once amends have been sought out.
As the fiends of dark days
do demand our dreams
the stuff of nightmares haunt us
till our kingdom come.
The beasts of conscience
all but kill us,
while they slash our souls, lacerate,
and dismember.
Now I know
where my place belongs.
It is when a good deed is done
that the beasts are quelled,
when the bad deeds are repaid,
when a road to harmony
is finally paved.