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 Posted: Sun Jan 20, 2013 10:00 am
I'm sure you guys've been noticing
the weird guy wandering around, talking
about his dreams... Well, it's up to you
whether or not you want to listen to him,
but in case you don't hear something he says,
I've been keeping track.
What it means is still really ...
confusing.
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Posted: Sun Jan 20, 2013 10:01 am
I had a dream, once--
It ended all too soon,
when I crushed the petals
of some foreign flower
and forgot that I had ever slept.
Some nights its petals
drift through my dreams still:
a portent of hell to pay
for something beautiful
which I once abused?
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Posted: Sun Jan 20, 2013 10:03 am
I had a dream, again.
A broken crown,
land falling into darkness:
a missing king, lost
in a prison of his own design.
His skin soft as blue petals,
and so many voices calling:
"We have lost you! Somewhere,
somehow, we have lost
our dark king."
They sound so sad,
they sound so hurt. How could
they lose this important person?
That is what they seem to say...
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Posted: Sun Jan 20, 2013 10:05 am
The nectar of blue blossoms
fills, pours over, laps
at the feet of a shattered king,
his mind sewn back together
by tendrils of that same blossom.
May I call you "Murderer"
in this blue hour? Blue blood
washes away, but its stain
seeps deeper to the soul,
where the wounded dreams go.
Surely now I may call you
what you truly are, your nature
revealed: such beauty
for a killer that can never sleep
never rest.
Death without end, piling like ash:
the petals of a fragrant flower.
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Posted: Sun Jan 20, 2013 11:46 pm
She told him--
begged, even--
not to walk where he would remain
unfound, until his mind snapped
and there would be no peace:
In dreams I heard her voice
so clearly, so gentle. Tender,
how she told him
to remain in his barracks,
to care for his charges.
And instead it whittled away at him
until he was less than nothing,
unmade and remade, and now
there is a price all must pay.
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 10:19 pm
Three eggs in the grass,
in the dark, and in the light:
one unfamiliar to the world of others
one to the voice that lives in his head
one to the rituals long forgotten.
I dreamt that the land moved with fluidity
that the sky swallowed parts of the earth
and a man walked, alone
his horned head bowed, steps
shaking.
He could have been lost forever,
she begged him not to go.
And still he did, their shared pain
cresting
as he hid one blue blossom
in the folds of his coat.
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Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2013 10:20 pm
Whose hand stills
the beating heart of an immortal?
Not our goddess, not our beloved--
that broken king, twisted in his pride
who licks the blood from a knife's edge
wetter and wetter with time.
She warns us, sends fever dreams
on a winter's night, dreams
that grip and hold for days.
She begs us: Hear my plea,
move quickly
or prepare for the worst.
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Posted: Thu Jan 31, 2013 7:34 pm
I had another dream
last night, its pain
burnt to my tongue: walls
piercing the sky higher
than anyone could climb.
If I fall and stay,
I drown in the blood
spilled by a man
with a broken crown.
A prison built doubly tall:
once for the pain of
lies told and guilt shouldered;
twice for the crimes committed
and the punishment
but in my dream I
can't recall
if I did what they accused me of
rows of jackals
sharpened teeth
and Her so sorry
so sorry: 'I tried to warn you,
in fever dream.'
I know, I know, I know
I know...
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Posted: Fri Feb 01, 2013 12:08 am
In a pool silver and cold
I saw the reflection of my dear brother
in pieces and slivers. A vision, carrion wings,
when I woke the petals of a blue flower
stuck to my skin, and I woke
a second time
the priest, the shaman, the untamed
all in a row
collecting flowers.
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