Friday, September 28, 2012

Haunting Conscious Dream

Poem,


Hallowed be the thoughts of thee...Ghostly in their make-up,
Strings, the guts of a harp, do intertwine, as I think of thee.

Ghostly Material, entertains, and enters thee.

The skies turn aqua, and effervescent green, puke coloured, portrait of thee...

And yet, here you are, Haunting Conscious Dream,
Undeniable, with power over me...

To entertain, divert and interest me...

Fascination, entered me...
As your Ghostly hands, do puppeteer me...
And lead me into desert seas.

Hallowed, be the hollow thoughts of thee,
As, you divert, and entertain my scene.

Yet, Ghostly, be the thoughts of thee,
And ghostly, be thy name...

And in the Mystery: Haunting Conscious Dreams...

The beautiful harp does play, a haunting theme...

You are very good at obscuring, things,
As Ghostly fingers intertwine...

And I awake, from you, one day perhaps... I ask?
The Mystery of this Haunting, Conscious Dream.



Sunday, September 23, 2012

Death Upon the dawn, of you!

Poem, by Marc Evan Aupiais

The perfect moment, perfection is not near,

Indigo clouds, make the sun, to hide,
Glorious Dawn, but dawn runs to hide...

And when I speak, I tell you simple truth...

Here, you'd hurt me, for speaking simplest truth.

My compass shows North,
I head into the swirling, shining waves...

About me, fins do rise...

And gills, draw in water, and ellipses, strange almost triangular forms...

The moment, of perfection... upon the terrible waves...

And in your dawn, I explore a bit... this kingdom, into which you let me in...
And in the privacy of your inner truths...

I recognise you, a triangular, elliptical shape...
With dorsal, and other fins, and gills to survive where I cannot...

And I leave the water, of your words and world...
And risk not your deadly ellipses of self-filled awe.

My blood, though it may spill, is God's, not your...

Monday, September 3, 2012

The Tragedy, of you!

Poem,

I sit and I speak, with God, and, quietly by us, is the Angel... Mr Guardian,
I weep, and speak, I ask, I ask: of T.R.A.G.E.D.Y. and the tempest upon the boat, of life!

I sit, I ask God, and the Angel... Guard.
I sit, I ask... what of tragedy...

He frowns.

And in answer, he gives me T.R.A.G.E.d.y.
He gives me you, to teach me a lesson, about asking... about Tragedy....

And I am perplexed... we learn more when wrong, when wronged, and wronged,
That we learn, more... than ever do when right, without a turn to left and right...

Yet, as I turn back, from my path in tragedy,
I wonder at those who never learn...

These... says Mr Guard, the guardian, who Mr Guardian replaced, are lessons themselves...
Lessens themselves... lessens themselves...

An echo strikes... and strikes... and strikes...

...against my cell...

And I am disrupted in my Holy Meditation...
By you... T.R.A.G.E.D.y....

You ask me to join you, join you,
And adventure into the wild dark of breathless, endless: night!

Into the sunset, we should ride...
My dear love... You say...

....


....

Shall I say it now, Miss Tragedy!

And the death of all who should into the endless night ride...

Mrs Tragedy... upon the night! Upon every good honest knight!

Is it not so, Ms Tragedy... Mrs ... Miss... Tragedy...

It echoes upon the bars, of the cell...

Captured, upon the darkness of your empty promised blackest lightest dark!

Death the winged fortress upon those deadly wings!

Poem,

High into the sky, death's wings do rise,
by the by, death's wings do realise,

Love does fly, does soar in you.
Death, those wings, the bird of prey,
As love, and pride, and hope, do soar.

And as I lie, in bed, in bed,
My skeleton leaves me, and flies with death, like a harpy of old,
A winged skeleton, temporal man,

And there you are, sleeping in front of me,
And around me, and upon me,
Resting, finding hope,
The woman I once loved.

And death, and my harpy skeleton, temporal man,
Does swoop down, with falcon skeleton wings,

And drop us both, this temporal man, into a box,
A hexagonal box, which it puts out to sea,

But the box, a coffin, death trap,
A boat, in this world, below temporal man,
A boat, in it we weather the storms,
And death frowns, and my skeleton looks down, temporal man.

And we weather the seas, and death seas it too,
As we cross the boundary of sea and fire,
And head down into the fiery abyss,

Screaming and shouting, aghast...

As death looks down, and my skeleton does too...
And I am falling and falling,

And I am awake!