17.46 - A Time Out of Time
17.46
Tornado, windmills rush in their spin,
Whirlwind songs for angels to sing.
I have dropped and fallen and now is the time to rise
I await, besides a half full bottle of ale
Rolling skin after skin together
Mixing my concoctions for the night.
Here, still and calm
I know the storm that gathers upon the horizon and I am ready.
Promising to myself never to be scared when offered the key to the kingdom of shades.
The smell of weekend sweat is embedded into my skin
My hair declares the desire for the kiss of water
Yet I know that tomorrow is the day of my cleansing
Tonight I am red dirt, an un-shirted angel
Flirting with the devil in my heart.
17.59
Strange waves of emotion are moving over my whole,
My soul is shaking and voices unheard are now screaming for attention,
The music flows and I am more and more aware of the base,
The rhythm of the heartbeat moving in time with my own
And the talisman is complete; I am riding with love upon a wave of serenity.
I can no longer feel my face, my body is out of place yet still
Above the echoes and the screams of all that lay unknown within my dimensions
I hear the voice of my heart, keeping my peace and releasing me from the thoughts of blue sinking. For forever I am thinking, taking in the vibrations, the colours, the light that surrounds me, and embracing the darkness that moves below.
I can feel my gaze shift; the material realm is loosing any sense of reality
Yet still I can write and think and look and know a familiar smile when I see you
Hung upon the galleries of my wall.
Strange things have happened this night, yet ever as we are changing
We are deranging from the moment of our birth
Growing towards decay only to start the cycle anew
Yet there are no cynical motives here for the cycle is to be embraced
Just as is the drum beat that entices us into tribal motions
Chanting as we are entrancing ourselves with words beyond the meaning of the day realm.
To a friend today I handed one hundred years of solitude
This I offered as a gift to open his heart to the soul of the world
He is a writer, a poet, a dreamer but he who may shed down upon the earth into material Manifestation all that may dream of.
If you want to know I’ll show you
I’ll show you what it takes to embrace creation beyond a morbid wish for death.
As I handed him solitude in a world far from his own we quested upon the subject of Choice in death, we questioned the subject of life reborn and breathed fresh breath anew Upon this plain, this very plain. If we had the choice to know the afterlife as we would Wish it would we choose to be reborn or to drift in a cloudy cotton candy heavens?
Would some choose to lavish and embrace the fires of hell,
Dressed in leather and abused by feminine devils divine?
Would we choose to dine in Asgard with valkeries moving over our heads,
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poem by David Lacey
Added by Poetry Lover
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