Creator / imaginer: Dabbler in art, literature and sound.
Clear light on a summer morning,
A horizon, dizzy in a haze of impending heat,
Grasslands ripe to burn lay drying,
What was green is now yellowed and brittle,
Large black birds shriek for the sun they follow,
Thirsting creatures in dark holes lay dying,
Death does not come to these lands in winter,
But with the clear light of a southern summer day.
I stand at the edge of a great precipice,
Eyes closed, I can feel a hot breeze on my face,
There is no sound, other than my own breathing,
The drop into darkness feels sheer and jagged,
The plummet, long and painful, and finally fatal,
I can feel the rock edge crumble under my weight,
I am waiting for the final slip,
The hands at my sides are sweaty and white knuckled,
Tense, I’m shaking within, the terror of waiting is intolerable,
The fall has yet to come, it could happen at any moment,
Vomit inducing anticipation, my body is racked with anxiety,
I can leave freely at any time and yet…
I stand here still.
Sometimes, I can lose myself for days,
Time passes quickly, like a rapid heartbeat,
When I find myself again, something is always different,
Following some initial confusion, where I don’t know where I’ve been,
I’m unsure just how long I have been the other me,
Which me was I? Was I kind or cruel, happy, sad, or withdrawn,
Sometimes I can lose myself for days,
And now, I no longer know which me is real.
Swirling colours, vivid and blinding,
Pulsate, in a cellophane coloured a sky,
A great blue door is beset by godly hands,
Vibrating in the colourful scene.
The hands hold a staircase in place,
Locked within an alien landscape,
Above the door a mighty skull sits,
Adorned with a golden lock,
Within the keyhole spins a whirlpool of stars.
The sudden arrival of the inner self is a spectacle to behold,
The door swings open revealing the inner self,
Naked and skeletal,
It glows, beautiful and newborn,
Emitting a soft blue light from its glassy bones.
My mind is stalled at this point,
Lost within countless colours, one for every hurt,
The spiralling sky becomes a bright portal,
Spinning, slow, warm and inviting,
The inner self leaves its essence,
Before fading into that spiralling light.
Shadows fill with starlight,
As a swirling green nebula slowly erases the vision,
And I awaken in sudden darkness,
The stars have faded
And life is reality once more.
My need to overcome reality is so strong lately,
I attempt to address profound childhood fears,
What happens when both creators are gone,
What do I become, how do I decide my path forward,
Nothing seems obvious, everything feels clouded,
What decisions do I need to make, what is important,
I feel lost, amiss, like I’m waiting for an unnamed event,
How can I take stock of things when it comes, my hurt, my pain,
And still administer the wishes of another,
There is no comfort here, only loss.
You can’t exist with your head in the clouds,
For one reason, clouds fade,
They are invisible on a clear day,
Although prominent during a storm,
They quickly make way for blue skies,
You see, clouds are not consistent,
They lack any solid substance,
Constantly unstable and unreliable,
They are an illusion of escape and freedom,
Within themselves, they are empty.
The full moon gazes down,
A great pale eye watching from the heavens.
I lie awake,
Longing to wander once more
Within the lands of dreams.
Instead, I remain trapped
Within an awakened mind,
Alone and without comfort,
Searching for the doors of sleep.
Each uneasy cough,
Pushes me another step from serenity.
Beyond my open window,
The world is dark, still, and warm.
The night holds its breath.
It is four o’clock in the morning.
The hour of lucid dreams has passed,
Yet the doorway remains closed.
I turn and shift.
Bedsheets entangle my feet.
My neck aches.
My restless body refuses surrender.
Above, the moon continues its silent vigil.
Far overhead,
An aircraft laden with sleepers
Crosses the darkness,
Carrying its dreaming passengers
To destinations unknown.
My mind craves only sleep.
I can feel the doorway drawing near.
So I write,
Hoping these words will carry me
Across the threshold.
My weary eyes are the keys
That unlock the realm of dreams.
May the doors of sleep close firmly behind me,
That I may wander forgotten roads until dawn,
And awaken once more
Beneath the light
Of the new morning sun.
The sound of ocean waves drives out the death-like silence,
Awakening, as the body sinks beneath the surface of the ocean of souls,
Screaming in silence, it is taken by the dark creatures it now belongs to,
A thousand Invisible arms, wrap, constrict and pull at their prey,
The lungs fill, the scream continues, subdued, and eyes sting in salty brine,
The sky is lit by a million stars that sparkle and dance upon the surface,
As the sea floor is reached, a cloud of black sand swirls and cloaks,
Still staring, still screaming silently, the final resting place has been procured.
A blue cubed dream cell vibrates with a deep resonating hum,
It contains nothing but an elderly man with long white hair and blue robes,
The dream cells translucent walls glow and dim in time with the hum,
The occupant slowly and continuously paces the perimeter of the room,
The bright cube is surrounded by a beautiful deep space panorama,
The dream cell rotates, powered by the occupant’s relentless trek,
With the Earth far in the distance, the rotating cell outwardly shines,
From the surface of that planet, the cube itself appears as a distant star.
It’s complicated to share where I’m at,
Because I don’t really feel like myself,
I feel bisected, slighted, and typically ignored,
I’m fed up, tired of everything going wrong,
I am not invisible, I matter,
Perhaps I’m unwell, does that register?
I am unhappy, old, fat and depressed,
In another fixed race where I’m in last place.
What does it take to get by easily?
I don’t need a win, I just need a place,
Where life doesn’t constantly,
Kick sand in my face.
Dan Verkys 