Tag: landscape

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Dead City of Dreams

A dreamer’s eyes open, suddenly and wide, accompanied by a gasp for air,
It feels as though the sleeper has been brought to life for the first time,
The confusion passes, and they acclimatise to this new red sunlit world,
Standing high on a dune, the dreamer looks down on a black city lit by red lights,
This world of exploration is dusty and dim, as the dreamer enters the city limits,
It seems lifeless, countless tall glossy black metallic buildings stretch upwards,
Every dark doorway is scarlet lit, there is no sound here other than the wind,
No birds sing, no sounds of human commotion, just an empty silent expanse,
The dreamer stands in the middle of a sand-covered road, paved with dark stone,
The wind whips sand into the sleeper’s eyes, as the sound of a low deep hum rumbles,
From the bowels of the earth, the dreamer feels the vibration through the road,
And as the sun begins to fall, the darkness brings sinister tidings,
From the black alcoves along the street, countless glowing red eyes appear,
The glowing eyes follow the dreamer while they cautiously walk among the black towers,
Again, the deep horn rumbles with a hum, and the sound of 1000 whispering voices begins,
The whispers are almost deafening, it feels as though they are inside the dreamer’s head,
With ears covered, the run begins, a left turn here, a right turn there, and into a side street,
Black metal streetlights line the roadway, all glowing with a vivid red glow,
In the dusty darkness at the end of the street, crooked black creatures with red eyes spill out,
They cut off any escape, they rapidly approach, driving the dreamer back towards the dunes,
The pavement soon becomes deep sand and a steep incline, where feet sink and slip,
The creatures are still in pursuit, the whispering intensifies as the dreamer struggles to move,
Coal black arms burst from the sand clutching the dreamer’s clothing and limbs,
Many unnaturally long arms clasp and pull the dreamer face down onto the dune side,
The sand below the dune begins to give way revealing an enormous gaping mouth,
Tentacle-like arms begin to drag the dreamer into the mouth from where they originate,
In an instant the dreamer is devoured, the mighty jaws snap shut before sinking into the sand,
Silence falls, the city empties, the red sun rises, and on the top of the dune,
A new pair of eyes open, suddenly and wide, accompanied by a new dreamer’s gasp for air

The cycle of the dead city of dreams continues.

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Forest Trophy

In a forest glade, several bodies lay,

Half buried by a killer,

He comes back each week,

To take a peek,

At the trophies he has made.

They lay there dead, in a mushroom bed,

Arranged in his secret place,

Where only killer and forest know,

About his trophy bones,

And the madness in his head.

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Darkness of a Summer Storm

Thunder rolls through late-night air,
The power is cut, a home is left in darkness,
It simmers in the residual heat of the day,
A weary sleeper tosses and turns,
Lightning flashes through an open window,
Rain pours down, as the wind shakes the trees,
Tonight will not be restful,
Dogs bark madly, they echo in the distance,
As thunder cracks and churns above,
Sweat beads on the forehead, restlessness,
Sudden silence, as the rain and wind cease,
The lightning and thunder disperse instantly,
All dogs are hushed, but the heat remains,
Within the restless sleeper, the nightmares endure.

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Tibetan Prayer Flags

Blue, white, red, green,

Tibetan prayer flags dance in the wind,

Yellow, blue, white, red,

They bring some colour and calm to my head,

Green, yellow, blue, white,

Deep breaths will help me sleep tonight.

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The Rain Keeps Falling

It’s early morning around my desk, it’s peaceful,

The summer heat still hangs in the air from the night before,

The sound of pouring rain dulls the songs of early birds,

The garden drinks its fill, after several hot days in the sun,

The rain falls harder, and the tin and concrete roof tiles hiss,

The sun has nowhere to go this morning,

Bashfully hiding behind storm clouds,

Perhaps feeling guilty for the previous day’s temperatures,

I sip coffee in the white glow of my screens,

A car hisses past the house, a lone weary driver starting their commute,

I soon hear the engines of other cars kick over in the distance,

The world is waking up, and the rain keeps falling.

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Sleeping Awake

Awake, but still dreaming, his eyes open to the sound of an ocean,
Unable to move, paralysed, his bed is afloat on a vast churning sea,
His face is cold and wet from wind and ocean spray, as he drifts,
The bed is unsinkable, it rides atop undulating waves,
As it mounts the crest of an enormous wave, the ocean falls still below it,
The waves quickly dissipate, and the bed comes to a halt,
Now in still waters, the bed finally begins to sink, falling away from him,
Leaving his buoyant body floating unaided on a waveless sea with no land in sight,
The sun rapidly falls, and is replaced by the brilliant light of a full moon,
After what feels like an eternity, his body slowly begins to sink,
As if gently pulled below the water by invisible hands,
As his face submerges, the water surface freezes over instantly,
His paralysis suddenly releases, and he begins to struggle, fighting for his life,
He is pulled along by an undercurrent, as he bashes against the inescapable ice layer,
Panic washes over him as he battles to access the air above the ice,
But he soon succumbs to the cold and the water, his body floats motionless,
His glazed eyes peer through the cloudy ice, up at sparkling stars above,
As his body begins to silently sink down into the black ocean depths,
His arms and legs float up before him, as he plummets into the deep,
All light eventually fails, but he realises something isn’t quite right,
He becomes calm as he realises that there is no longer a need to breathe,
He slowly rolls his body over to face the ocean floor,
As he sinks, he faces a black nothingness that disappears in all directions,
He continues his descent, as countless time passes,
Far down in the inky depths below, he can see an orange light glowing,
He closes his eyes and allows the weight of his body to carry him down to the light,
Upon opening his eyes, he sees light pouring from the mouth of a massive skull,
The gaping mouth burns with an unnatural flame, that engulfs him as he enters,
After passing through the enormous burning cavity,
He’s now surrounded by the cool flame, and he continues to descend,
His speed increases, as the underwater flames lick at his face,
The cavernous space narrows into a small opening ahead,
He manages to angle himself enough to pass through it,
He soon feels himself burning through light and time, before being regurgitated,
Spewing forth from a giant waterfall, that spills into a fine clear lake,
After an ungraceful landing, he swims for the shore,
As he pulls himself on to the stoney bank the ground begins to rumble and shake,
The earth begins to collapse around him, landscape and lake fall into nothingness,
A desolate world being swallowed by a black emptiness,
The ground gives way beneath him, and he tumbles into the darkness,
He falls screaming, his face is peppered by surface remnants,
This new descent lasts so long that the cool air has time to completely dry him,
Suddenly, a pure burst of white light erupts from below like an explosion,
He averts his eyes to protect them, but the brightness engulfs him,
Now blinded by light, his spinning fall comes to an abrupt stop, and he opens his eyes,
To find himself staring at the ceiling of his own bedroom.

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Kingdom of Ancients

When I close my eyes, there’s a place I go,
Far beyond the dreaming sea,
Where the calm still waters ebb and flow,
And ancient druids call to me.

There’s a great circle of sarsen stone,
Arranged to greet first solstice light,
Where ancient secrets of the earth are known,
And shared with followers draped in white.

In a lake of wonder a lady sleeps,
Clutching a sword upon her breast,
The water hides the tears she weeps,
Waiting for her King to begin his quest.

I open my eyes, and I’m back in my own skin,
I no longer feel the sickly weight of panic,
I’m calmed by my kingdom of ancients within,
And my thoughts are now less manic.

The mystery dreamland calls me now,
As I try to stop my eyes from closing,
I write this verse through furrowed brow,
Time to sleep and stop composing.

Excalibur the Sword by Howard Pyle (1903)
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Wreckage

A morning sun packs early heat, high in the sky,

After a dark night of wreckage and ruin,

Another mother mourns the loss of a son,

As crows cry for carrion on the green roadside.

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Country of the Wandering Mind

My morning mind is lost in dreaming,
Wandering forests where the creeks are streaming,
Where the Wurundjeri Woi Wurrung people reside,
Across a sprawling ancient countryside,
Through forests up to Camels Hump, above the Geburrh ranges,
And back down to Ngannelong, or Hanging Rock to visiting strangers,
Where Kangaroo’s live in grassy fields, and their mobs all peacefully graze,
Along-side foreign livestock who eat away unphased,
By these original inhabitants who gracefully bound around,
While the laugh of Kookaburras, fill the valley floor with sound,
My mind wanders home again, across open farming lands,
Back to my own small town, where my tree filled sanctuary stands.