My Dreamscape

Dreams come and go
Some talk of Michelangelo?
No!
I've never dreamed of that fellow

I remember my nightmares
Three witches searching for my wheres
Abouts 
That one time
Dogs howling when I woke
I felt goosepimples from the strange chill

But mostly I'm selling my wares
My services of temporary possession?

I don't know what exactly I'm selling
I dream of different stories and characters
I am a merchant in one
A warrior in the other

There's always a scenario
That I must live
An incident
A quest
Sometimes I do well
Sometimes I don't

I wonder if my spirit
Is walking where it shouldn't--
Into other people's dreams--
And helping them in some manner
By looking at things from a different perspective
It is a nice thought

I enjoy problem solving
I don't know why
But it gives me joy
The satisfaction
Of solving something
I am terrified of failure

In my dreams 
Failure doesn't matter
Because I forget most of it
By dawn

Back to Hell?

My mind’s not quite right
Jumping from night to bright
Mild depression to hypomania
Return to my castle in WTFania?

where the screams of WTF!!! never cease

Duality
Is me
I have not felt this way
Writing the whole day
For such a long time
It should be a crime
To feel so good
But this blog isn’t about that
Touch wood

The dark night
Returneth?
I know it’s coming
I can feel my soul cry
My place in hell
Not of my own making
It is Him

I know why He does it
But I can’t stand it
I’ve been in tranquil dusk
For too long
The glory of the sunset
I must enjoy it
While it lasts
Don’t know how fast
My soul will be damned…
Temporarily

Duality
Remember?

it’s always temporary (I hope)

Will I spend the night searching
For light
Will I spend the night sleeping
In the blight
Where death surrounds me
Can I ever be free?

Am I a monster?
A freak?
Why subject me to this
When all I can do is leak
Blood and ink?

What would it be like
To live normally
Have a family
9-5 routine
Happy dinner time
Two girls and a boy
I’ll buy them toys
But not too many
Don’t want to spoil them

A wife I could talk to
About anything I wanted
And she’d nod
Even if she couldn’t understand
And I’d know
And she’d know I knew
But we’d still be happy
Because the things we could understand
About each other
Were much more important
Than anything else

To have someone I could count on
Who could count on me
Sharing strength
A happy family

Instead
You send me to hell
And make me marry
My thoughts of despair
In the hope
That I’ll find some light there
Or am I just fooling myself
To make sense of this pain?

I know that I cannot be happy
But fooling myself into believing
That I can light a lamp
With a matchsick
I found
While fumbling around
In Hell
May not be so bad

Extra Addition 22-07-2019

Extra! Extra! Read all about it:

Man wrestled a gator and got bit
He bit back until the gator quit

A dancing bear escaped the circus
Prescribed Prozac for loss of purpose

An alien mothership surfaced
Green men exited the lift: service

PanAm aircraft 914 back
From the Bermuda Triangle in fact

A Dyson sphere spotted light years away
Along with some Martians gone to sun bathe

Putin and Trump talking nuclear disarmament
Talks being held in secret freight cargo compartment

The White House is being painted blue
By Banksy and the rest of his crew

Chief mistakes manatee for his mermaid wife
His calypso crab sings about marital strife

A prince seeks girl with lost glass slipper
Finds her in SF smoking a tipper

Society of Reformed Demons

One dark night
All lonesome
Feeling trite
Unwholesome
I wandered to
Rambled into
A carnival
By the SRD

Bearded alligator
Did wave to me later
“Come one come all and see
The fantastic demonic menagerie
Organised for you and me
By the SRD”

A carousel of chimeras
Made me go bananas
A Ferris wheel of pterodactyls
Made me see things in fractals
I did fear, but also awe and wonder
At the demonic carnival
By the SRD
Entry free

In the top tent, imp acrobats
Made me doff my shiny new hat
While demigods chased goddesses
Hunting them around like rutting cats
Amongst the audience pack
Not knowing they were trapped
By the SRD
Heavy exit fee

Haunting

In Darkest night, Cultists frolic outside:

“Oh great and green spaghetti monster, give us your power.”
Entreating primordial entity for dark shower
The chants may vary, language exotic, but not the core
The dance and trance, sanguine worship, black robed fancy dress whores
Some sing to Cthulu from greed, some from despair, some from fear
Some from a need for recognition, to mark they’ve been here
Like a dog trying to mark his territory, they piss
And it stinks of chimeras, made from the deep, dark Abyss
The one ‘Who is like God?’ stands stalwart in defence.

In Deepest Night, I cower inside:

In my house that is not my home, there is dark night
In my house that is not my home, there is moonlight

The distorted spirits still dance for war, raging
Long faced monkey donkey, giant man pig, duck goat
Vile energies given form by bad men and women.

The angel continues his war waging
I watch the demons turn to motes
A few die, good riddance!

Still too many
Demons lurking
In house-not-home
Michael
Fights on
Until battle is done
Until the Spirit War is won

Hail Michael, as brilliant as the Sun, and thank you for constant intercession.

Note: Cthulu, in this poem, represents promises of power of any kind (not necessarily ‘occult’), in exchange for the empathetic traits that make us human.

Also, some places just give off bad vibes. Okay for a visit, not nice to stay in.

I had intended to write a light, comedic piece when I began this one, two nights ago

Three Shamanic Thieves Journey into the Underworld

A trio, shamans all, they walk in step
A somnambulant drawl, they speak with sleep
One single tell showing their trespassed depth
Wan faced, gaunt, ragged, torn, the trio creep

Through the Realm of the Dead… Disguises keep
They make it past the borders of a town
Looking for the house of Judge of the Reaped
The passers-by stare at the three and frown

One shaman starts to panic, turns around
His companions steady him with a smile
They quicken their pace, their feet centre bound
Where Judge of the Underworld hears trial

The land transforms, suddenly much less vile
They walk on past homes with trellised gardens
Posh suburban homes, green lawns by the mile
Not what they expected, these big mansions

Destination reached at long last, ‘Sanctum’
Much smaller than neighbours. Two storeys tall
They open door with stolen key, and ‘Umff!’
A cat greets them, peeking from behind wall

The two older shamans play feline ball
Only the young one remains focused on mission
The two relieve themselves in the toilet
While the young one searches for object of vision

Time’s short, young Walker thinks, though he’d like to relax–
Journey was hard, but Judge will soon be back
The lure won’t hold him for much longer, can’t be lax–
Young One finds object of search at long last

A tap that was right there, near the front door, he laughs
Young One summons a magical object
An empty Coca Cola bottle, he chant-crafts
And fills it with the clear waters of Death

The Judge has so much, he won’t miss this little bit
The Young One tells himself to assuage guilt
He rallies his companions and they make their escape
Returning again to the other side of the dreamscape

(The Judge watches the thieves enter and leave from atop an adjoining balcony
He decides to let them return to the living)

Image:
https://goo.gl/images/UepQQh

Dream Paralysis

Tonight I am fire, I am wind, I am storm
Tonight I am the calm middle, swirling, whirling
Where is the i? Nearby, playing music of dawn
Accompanying a chorus of millions: souls
Singing their spirits from head to toes… I invoke
Hit the choke, for a gasoline epiphany

You dare claim ownership? You dare claim Empire?
Subjecting Nature, disrespecting natural order?
Polluting without purpose, enslaving, denigrating
A gentle breeze blows now, it will grow intense, no pretense
For wind spirits are simple beings, straight shooters in this war

Come back to this in three generations, come and ponder
How the earth rolled in waves, how the sky was covered in cloud
How the ash dole was made, the storms of dust Vulcan endowed
And remember, your bodies do not own the Land, the Land owns your bodies

(Wake now, wake, wake, wake up, I must wake up, will I wake up? Awaken Fool!

…
My world has gone to dust, cut to shreds by debris of War… but soul endures.

Many roads to take for the body, only one path for the soul: forwards or backwards)

The Lament of Quetzalcoatl

Feathered Serpent and Fire Dog swim through aether
First the garden, Aes Sidhe within, surreal laughter
Their journey begins, the Hero Twins, Venus eyed
Journey through unknown skies. But Fire Dog goes stray,
Leaves Feathered Serpent alone, too fearful of death (to take another step)

“Come back my twin, your brother misses your days
What is Death, but another great and wondrous maze?
What is my wind without your thunder and lightning?
Come back Fire Dog, you’ve got some real bad timing.
The Nahuatl are gone, we are finally free
Come Xolotl, run again with your brother Quetzalcoatl.”

(I’m going on a break from writing for at least a week. I hope you all take care. Bye bye!)

(I should really call him water dog, but it seems wrong. Xolotl’s fear of death reference explained in the creation story. My knowledge of Meso American mythology is slight, but I really wanted to write this. This myth seems to be related to the Mayan Hero Twins, a journey of night and day, death and resurrection. The Navajo have something similar, the twins of the Changing Woman.)

Ouranos’ Madness

You try to grab my left arm, I stretch forth my right
Ego clouds my judgement, misunderstanding can’t subside
I reveal my worst nightmare, the one that woke me screaming
Varuna’s new form, Ouranos by dim sunlight

Fringe astrophysics, magnetic shields of great might:
Decreasing; while Cosmic rays increasing, a new season
Man (civilization) makes his own bed to lie on, but I can’t stay quiet
That wouldn’t be right, to go down without a just fight

I am powerless, and perhaps delusional
Paying credence to mere nightmares, those fanciful mind scares
Still… ‘what if?’ Should I hoard my dreams and frightful sleeping things?
Safer to give warning, I’ve nothing to lose, I’ve grown used to these red ears

Starting a Cult

I wonder if I should start a cult
I would enjoy that sort of tumult
We’d call ourselves the Eternal Y
Responding with a delightful ‘why???’
to every statement under the sky
Like a child annoying her parents

And provide society with much needed stagnation clearance
Challenging linguistic perceptions and understanding

My cult dies as soon as the idea is born, when i think, ‘But WHY?!’

So a poem will have to do..
Boohoo!