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Paranoia. response to horror challenge
| Dark Poetry #2 |
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Paranoia. response to horror challenge |
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brian madden Member Elite
since 2000-05-06
Posts 4374ireland 
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I know this challenge is old hat by now but I was on holidays, this is an old poem from when my mind was warped I guess it horror or as close I have come to it, it is dark and surreal anwyay. ==================== (act 1): Dying here in the narrow corridors where the lights explode as dying stars, empty forms, mask out their faces coming for me. I know in my mind that I should flee but where, in this dead end, shall I hide? In the cerebrum a vacant garden grows with poppies I planted before they arrived, sample opium to numb my mind. Now I am ready. They take me with hands swallowing rather than carry. Murmurs of The Presence cast vivid opinions for its kind. Dissect me mutilating the Cathedral roof where I wandered as a child, there first met you and as innocence to a god asked a simple request, “scratch me a new face. Make me dream a new day.” Statues reflected your gravel mood. I would have crucified you for your response but malice had not yet been passed on to me. Back turned, you walked away down this corridor, In pursuit you vanished leaving me where I begun. (act 2): Rooms are still rooms spread open wide…. too much for my still head to view… I want them to move closer still to give me sense of direction. In the furthest corners they circle round barely in view leaving the table in its central position as my only focus point. My legs twist as touch the surface, it seems so unfair, they cleansed me extracting my waste in jars preserved in anointed oil. I lose my equilibrium, falling To the tiled floor where else have I to go? Is every destination predetermined? I scream begging to be saved cushioned by their forms raising my tired bones to the table safely bound. The constraints tickle my stomach, I smile as I used to as a child for a second at least but no more. (act 3) “Screwing was a pastime hear forever, die together, names, more moments” recorded on the walls, white washed fading out again they join hands and sing. In this reality am I dreaming? If it makes sense then it's all lies. Lost in trailing thought they save me as one throws a hand and pulls me into the circle, the music moves as we do my arms feel tiny pricks, we swim with the drown-out voices, “all……better…….good” To be me again me again what a simply perfect idea. Reality has never focused right so well I watched, gone they were, waking from the daze. Finding myself back in the corridor, among a number of bottles and shiny little pills ground to dust, with a five-inch stitch holding me back together and saving me from solitude. A rush of light knocks me back again into their arms. They hold me still in front of a mirror, my face blank like theirs. Somewhere to belong. A new face scratched. You rise again, “now is the time,” and all the confusion can be understood. < !signature--> "Think I'm - I'm lost among the undergrowth So much so I woke up I love you all the same" Manic street preachers You stole the sun from my heart. [This message has been edited by brian madden (edited 09-10-2000).] |
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| © Copyright 2000 brian madden - All Rights Reserved | |||
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doreen peri Member Elite
since 1999-05-25
Posts 3812Virginia |
was that you looking in my window today? geez... awesome, brian...unfortunately, i identify with every word at the moment... nice job, poet! |
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Sudhir Iyer Member Ascendant
since 2000-04-26
Posts 6943Mumbai, India : now in Belgium |
P O E T regards sudhir |
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poutprincess Senior Member
since 2000-07-06
Posts 735Perth, Western Australia, Australia |
"to be me again me again what a simply perfect idea Reality has never focused right" this entire poem conjures up some feelings in me not all unknown...enjoyed the reading, though the sensations it gave were a bit uncomfortable! ~Dawn "Steady as it comes, right down to you, I've said it all, so maybe we're a Bliss of another kind" Bliss-Tori Amos |
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