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.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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