On the Walls Poem, by lucaso, at My poetic side

The dull star of Venus' past,

Drifting through skulls, white and grey,

Fastens the Moon to the mast

Of a Midnight epoch's prey -

Shadows dancing on the walls!

Each cycle to perfection

Dissolving in cloths of fate,

Opal drapes in reflection

Mottle pupils on the slate -

Shadows dancing on the walls!

Shivering into pulses,

Future stalls, gasping ulcers,

Fresh-linen weaved from the soul

Shroud a halo to the hole -

Shadows dancing on the walls!

Dreams substance consolidates

And blackness amalgamates,

Veins burn, mellow, and sedate

Eyes of the Eternal state -

Shadows dancing on the walls!...

Author: lucaso ( Offline)
Published: June 26th, 2017 10:44
Comment from author about the poem: A pathetic poem wrote in a couple of minutes concerning my current disposition through a rough of mind about the visions and state of reality I'm experiencing. I'm currently writing a book, though it shouldn't be called that, neither a collection, including my poetry and -above all- my purpose which is as much mine is it is everyone's. It shall be accessible to the masses, though richly accessible to the Poets (whom the masses are, though sedated, or how they please) and I have underwent the most soporific, brutal torture of the soul --rejected incessantly by courage (though that's as an illusion as words themselves) and repressed, entwined with the beauteous pain of silence-- for it was absolutely necessary -planned?- and written within the confinements of destiny. Ha! People do not know what stirs besides them...eternity awaits at the fingertips! I bask, I bask, I bask! Beyond...and forward! For all can be opened, we are constantly accessing, ebbing to the crescendos gushing from the waves of divinity. And the Goddess! These spiders, acorns, snakes and all symbols my unconscious hones and brings forth. All is real. Have i ever existed? I beckon, I believe, to an ancient race.. I allow reality to corrode, though keep it for others senses. Not now. Chronos stirs. I was born. A biography of nothing but dry skin. Anyway, the future awaits us, or is here, I have learnt the art of crafting future events to almost perfection. I am an actor. A poet. A musician. A mother. The rest. The repose. Currently, I can induce any state I please. Pride grows weary, like that the manteaux of dry skin... Infintie love. I am a comedian, we all are! I love all. Though, I have foreseen the end times, and they're beauty as each safe cracked where eternity is concerned. My dream has aligned. I trust in nothing but myself, in all forms. To you, reader, we shall be reunited. Take from me what you will. Though let your will be guided as mine. Nothing but love awaits us all. Once More, sorry for the pathetic poem, by the time the dripping veneers and dancing shadows have been accustomed to, I will add more -- if you wish. Love L.O
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