There are dreams, streams
Of consciousness of which I shall not speak,
For I am weak
And would not have you know
Where I go
In sleep,
Lest you weep
For my dark heart.
I shall not tell you of my nightmares
For you have cares
Of your own
And, when alone
I would not have thee see
What tortures me.
I shall not open my heart
For you have dark
Thoughts enough of your own.
So let us leave our demons alone
Until they creep
Out in sleep
And we, in earnest weep.
Nightmare.
Terrors buried deep
Creep
Out and stare
Me full in the face.
There is no hiding place
When the black mare
Stirs
From the stable.
Her coat sable
As night.
Banishes delight.
Awaking.
Shaking
Off fear
Yet nightmare crouches near.
In the shadows she hides
And bides
Her time waiting for sleep
Then out she doth creep.
I turn and run
But my dark mistress must have her fun.
When day is done
She will come.
It is horribly early.
I can not sleep.
A bird tweets.
No feet
upon the street.
Cars pass
lost in distance vast.
I could return to bed
but I am awake
and doubt that sleep will take
me back
to be stretched upon the rack
of nightmare
and despair.
Sleep is a fickle friend.
Oft she doth pretend
to soothe the troubled mind
but man doth frequently find
in her arms that bind
a maelstrom of emotion
an ocean
where many are tossed
and forever lost
The unmonitored video tape
reveals what we can not escape.
The honeyed words we say
in the light of day
are swept away
at night
when our conscience doth delight
in stripping bare all pretence.
The fence
is down and nightmare
doth stare
Us full in the face.
The knowledge of disgrace
Causes the mind to race
In fear
As the truth stands near.
Even the fool
Knows the cassette will, one day, unspool
And lie tangled
Mmangled
Beyond repair
And the dark angel will be there.
West and away the wheels of darkness roll,
Day’s beamy banner up the east is borne,
Spectres and fears, the nightmare and her foal,
Drown in the golden deluge of the morn.
But over sea and continent from sight
Safe to the Indies has the earth conveyed
The vast and moon-eclipsing cone of night,
Her towering foolscap of eternal shade.
See, in mid heaven the sun is mounted; hark,
The belfries tingle to the noonday chime.
‘Tis silent, and the subterranean dark
Has crossed the nadir, and begins to climb.
Don’t look into another’s mind
For you may find
A fiend
Who stalks your dream.
You may discern a hole
Where the soul
Should be.
Perhaps it is better you can not see.
Do you possess the art
To look into your own heart?
To confront the demons who scheme
And haunt your dream?
The countenance pleasant may seem
But what goes on behind the screen?
Thank you to Victo Dolore from Behind The White Coat for publishing my poem, “Monster” which can be found by following this link, https://doctorly.wordpress.com/2015/08/29/from-the-guest-room/. Please do check out Victo’s blog.
Kevin
I have known the darkest of nights,
Lost myself in sensuous delights.
I have felt the vampire’s fear,
Held her close and thought her dear.
I have seen her blood red lips,
Fought against her fatal kiss.
I have endured her fangs sharp,
as shards of glass within my heart.
I have watched the dawn come,
Perceived the vampiress turn and run.
Be still my sleeping brain. But no, like a train you career along tracks of fear and pain.
Looking out of the window I see demons glaring at me. Monsters from the past after me dash ingendering terror and shame.
Oh dear god still my racing brain.
(The above was inspired by the following post on Behind the White Coat, https://doctorly.wordpress.com/2015/03/22/etude-to-silence/?c=16368#comment-16368) in which Victo discusses the problems encountered by some when they encounter silence. When one sleeps the distractions which keep us from silence are removed and the subconscious is given full reign. During the wee small hours when we sleep terrors creep out of their hiding places to torment us.
Don’t go too deep
We Sleep
Dark thoughts released
The subconscious roams unpoliced
We weep
Don’t go too deep
K Morris - Poet 