Summer dream

Summer dream

A Poem by WildeWhore
"

Weird as can be, but give it a chance... it's a journey through hallucinatory hell, and I've never even taken drugs. Jim Morrison would be proud.

"

I.                    Gasp into vision... a sharp-sparkling sky, with

Us slanted beneath, dipping, drowning, absolute sublimity

In a field of daggers, gold legs warm in tantric throb.

The soft circuitry of skin sewn in a net of seething flies.

Gathering to crown the flaming hill

Curves slowly concaved, bleeding pools surround.

Reeds slip through the air like slick fangs

Nettled between cold smoke tendrils

Aching to the brink of swooning, against the sun,

All eyes upward... we're inhaling butterflies

From dirt-bellied awe. In this battle beginning, a surge,

Two twisted roots pushing through the earth

Clammy-fingered lily-snakes are candied in their coffins.

Seasons break in resurrection light... a crack in cycle

                  Madd’ningly simple

Pale faces lit up all around us, the white upturned sky

slim-threaded breath... hot-bogged in the grass.

Run down to the blind Kingdom, breaking ranks,

Ancient heels smoldering each imprinted stone

   Don’t look back,

don't unravel the beating, this

Blood-lipped firmament spun-white, glowing in desert salt.

    Everything left to Illusion.

 

II.                 Fallen splayed on the grass, clutching sick violets, as

Roses twist tumors through our foreheads.

Lips seared open, rasping at the sky, burning,

Swirling its scarlet bedsheets, flanks flashing thunder

Clouds peel open & wild eyes shower the field.

Take my hand, will you will you take my hand

Our minds now utter & emancipated with

This incapacity of being, now, as we are,

Stripped down to the shuddering, the sounding,

bone lifted from bone

Dipping further, in laughter, to the thicket of flames,

   Our undoing ultimate… termed long ago, when we

Threw our shoes to the spokes of these gates, &

Spikes clamped down whittling in our ears, &

we whined & shivered in the gnawing drone.

A new sonorous vision spackles the air,

Petals are falling cool on our eyelids, and our skin is dissolving

in the fire... all skin giving form to one thick, breathless,

Orange-mouthed baby… it’s swelling & choking out sobs,

Our own curdled screams rising in its throat

Its neck cracked in diamonds, eyes red with oceans.

Each hand grips a spasmic furrow, deep-rooted feeding

Into the dirt, searing hot & full of blood.

 

III.               Clouds pass whispering feather-flames pale-streaked across the sky,

crawling slow as a sheet of tears.

Nails of light, filtering through

The storm-swept waste, gray & fuming black,

A glowing battalion bright with bruises.

Thunderheads drag their pot-bellied hulls pulling gashes

Through a mist of stars, now dissipating… with the thunder echoing

Lost & wounded in the dark hills.

A gaggling sling of bones creaks on my back, while

Your heart is gushing smooth breath over

My cold skin, as

Your back is skewered to my broken rib.

One gnarled token moves in the night.

Passage foraged through the wreckage,

Carrying my Queen of the Kill

Down roads slaked in mud.

A hulking shadow held to the sunrise.

I cannot feel it as my own.

 

A thousand streaming snakes, entrails hanging, popping pustulent boils with glistening jewels seeded in a starry line that twists out from the smoking gates… following behind me beneath the rising sulphurous moon.


© 2010 WildeWhore



My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Reviews

Thanks for a wonderful poem.

Posted 5 Years Ago


Wow. Breathtaking. The most fantastic imagery I have seen in a poem. The rhythm doesn't seem to be present, but somehow that just makes it so much more exquisite, and the flow is perfect. I'm at loss for the right words to describe the beauty of this piece. Excellent job my friend.
~Blessed Be~

Posted 7 Years Ago



Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

363 Views
2 Reviews
Rating
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on March 6, 2010
Last Updated on March 6, 2010
Tags: poetry, summer, vision, weird

Author

WildeWhore
WildeWhore

VT



About
I am 16 as of now... so, there's really not much of a biography to my life so far. I have my own opinions, always under influence of my favorite people (there are too many to list, ranging from emmine.. more..

Writing
Lucy Lucy

A Story by WildeWhore