deepundergroundpoetry.com
Dreamer ' Eye
Should I extend my vision across the cirrus sky?
A fossil of Forever caught within a dreamer’s eye.
Might some think it derision, in lieu of such a scene?
(Or just strange alchemy of thought to flounder in-between
A wheel chair and rocking chair); when nowhere else on earth
Can I see clearly all what Time’s given measure is worth.
No, looking down to palms laid bare, I’ll beg a martyr’s pass;
To, by some Piper’s heedless rhymes, take leave for greener grass.
In sudden admiration, perhaps in sudden fear,
As darkness calls in monotone, I wipe a silent tear—
Merely an inclination, I let the vision fade;
Leaving my thoughts to die alone, somewhere amidst the glade.
The pattern never-ending, the punch line never sprung;
I know my never-never land gave way while I was young.
A forest, ever rending shadows never to be crossed,
By blood, I just don’t understand, how so much there was lost.
As once a child, so to speak, when dreams weren’t priced so cheap;
I held a million wondrous things, all to the shrine of Sleep…
Imagination free to seek, set my sights to the sun;
In graceful flight, on silver wings, let my vanity run.
Speaking my mind for thought was truth; therefore golden, I thought.
I soon came crashing to the ground Reality had wrought...
Where by all principles of youth I clung to deep inside,
She forged the chains that bound me to a prison I called Pride.
I woke to find a startled face the face of my recourse,
For Peace was just a concept bred on the grounds of remorse.
And religion proffers no grace in Misery’s domain,
Where hope for the hopeless is bled, and given to disdain...
A face I saw but once before, upon an empty shell—
That lifeless gloss ‘cross eyes I knew had seen their share of hell.
A Vet of the Vietnam war, he’d lost all will to live,
Came back to the Red White and Blue with nothing left to give.
And so I started my own war, ineptitude the charge.
I needed vindication from the enemies at large.
A note that chills me to the core, held my flag to the sky,
With bloodied hands I beat the drum, just never once asked, “Why?”
Passion become the principle, and pain a way of life,
I gave my soul to Misery; I loved her as a wife.
I thought myself invincible, took comfort in her cold.
‘Twas there I bought my destiny, the rest of me I sold.
How it happened I’m not sure; still, the mirror never lies.
I’m not sure how I came to be the man behind those eyes.
Holding the heart but not the will, it’s only now I see:
The man I was forsook me for a man I’ll never be.
Pearls of wisdom deeply etched in lines upon the head,
I stare at the ceiling awake, each night within my bed.
This graceless journey I’ve embarked upon nearing its end;
I feel with withered hands that shake, and know these wounds won’t mend.
But feed this hollow soul its boon, another heedless rhyme…
‘Bout how in giving all I had, I gave up all, in time.
Come to the chorus way to soon, I still can’t peel the scars,
Or walk to the window unclad, to face the gleaming stars;
If but through vision, bleak and bland, to stir a witless heart
That otherwise might never chance the passion to depart—
To, if by Fate or polished hand, revere the cirrus sky,
Should morning come to share a dance lost to this dreamers eye.
Published 6th Aug 2015
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6th Aug 2015 2:05am
It is so much to digest. Beautiful rhymes and so much imagery.
Have read several times just to get it all in. thanks for
your sharing of self.
Have read several times just to get it all in. thanks for
your sharing of self.
6th Aug 2015 1:07pm
Thanks for the read, K2m... Appreciate you taking the time, as I know the length scares many people off on a poem like this. Glad you enjoyed.
Michael
Michael
