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| Parables of Dreams Prose or Poems
Posted: 4/9/2006 6:05:35 PM | This just happened to be what I call a dream parable. I tried it as prose, then just tried for rhythm, and just never got it flowing the way I wished while remaining true to the dream, but here it is.
Post prose or poetry if you have a dream you can share.
Happy Dreams!
A Dream Parable
Last night I had
the strangest dream
It was a rushing fireball
streaking down to earth
when suddenly it changed directions
and soared towards my place of birth
some textured sphere changing hue
muted red to a sparkling blue
it looked exactly like a glittered
Christmas tree ornament
it seemed to roll along in waves
some snake like mountain range
of this reality, I became bewildered
for no such thing ever existed
at my southern childhood home
pondering now and even in my dream
what this little detail might mean
again it changed positions
causing me excited anticipation
Seeming as if I were really awake
I marveled outloud to my friends
Was this really taking place?
I held my breath in expectation
and watched this strange object come to rest
atop some weird dream spire
The object appeared some new technology
Of nano or just impenetrable balloon
and then like giving birth
it opened with a sudden whoosh
oozing mounds of foamy rings
with peaks of spongy green
and within a smoldering circle
there appeared at my first glance
to lay 2 odd shaped, writhing things
Alien snakes one sister screamed
But as my eyes adjusted I came to realize
these weren’t creatures from outer space,
but humans being burned alive.
My mind was seized with horror
as I took a closer step.
One still moving in agonizing moans
looked completely melted
To a wriggly rod shaped state
The other left with half a body
Still clothed in metallic weave
I knelt in consternation
beside the one’s half charred face
aghast in disbelief, to and fro I rocked
and wiped my steamy face
flowing tears of what to do’s
Then with hectic animation
Thinking the water from my eyes
Might help put out the fires
I reached down to unzip his suit
His one remaining hand
feebly lifted up
And was placed firmly on my own
A touch of pure love and kindness
Emanating brightly him to ME
Insane with pain and asking who
I tried again to raise my hand
But mind to mind he spoke to me
And As if my heart lay dying there
I was filled with the clearest empathy
And into my head came
This poor creature’s dying plea
Let me stay as long as possible
beneath your mother’s love
and as only dreams can do
the man transformed to an embodiment
of all the changing worlds I’ve loved
when shifting to the last of them
it was my only son I saw lying there
and as I bent to kiss his cheek
I saw my son’s boyish face beneath
Thick blonde locks of curly hair
And as my anguish poured like rain
This to me he did communicate
If you open up this suit,
I will incinerate
And in my dream,
At the end
I was clearly told
dry your tears
This is a gift
Only A parable
Directly from Akasha’s soul
The moral of the story was told in the dream, but I can not recall it as clearly as the dream itself, but went something like this:
Be cautious trying to force yourself or someone else to open up their inner, deeper self(unzipping the suit)..if their spiritual foundation is a little shaky or they are simply not ready for whatever reason, or just do not have the psychological tools or strength to cope, etc., it could have disastrous, extremely painful, results, such as you may incinerate psychologically. I assume that means go insane or have a meltdown or maybe simply get angry. | |
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| Parables of Dreams Prose or Poems
Posted: 4/9/2006 7:24:49 PM | Hey! Hey! Hey!
A thread for Drea!
And a great start off poem too.
Now here's a little AC poem by Howard Nemerov.
CREATION MYTH ON A MOEBIUS BAND
The world's just mad enough to have been made
By the Being his beings into Being prayed. | |
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| Parables of Dreams Prose or Poems
Posted: 4/10/2006 1:40:17 PM | Thanks Mick for the feedback.
Edgar Allen Poe's
A Dream within a dream
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream? | |
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| The Heracles Poets
Posted: 4/13/2006 7:38:19 AM | No dreams anyone?
I have a few I am working on, but this relates to the first dream I think. I think the first dream post was actually provoked by a conversation about how some poets are unafraid to open themselves up to their suffering to write a poem. This is for those poets, and to those who are unafraid to stir the pot, so to speak(so erban this is for you too )
Heracles Heracles chose a voluntary death, asking that a pyre be built for him to end his suffering. After his death on the pyre the gods transformed Heracles into an immortal, or alternatively, the fire burned away the mortal part of the demi-god, so that only the god remained.
Mnemosyne – goddess of memory
The Heracles Poets
The most valiant poets
burrow deep within
suffering
minds melodic whims
penned with blood inked quills
carved of self gnawed bone
revealing
Feverish Lava racing
through Sensuous loins
from Chamberpot hearts
brimming with visceral vials
reviving
the Goddess of Mnemosyne
as limitless muse
seducing
obscure rhythmic dreams
Buried deep beneath
Igneous tombstones
bewitching
stagnant gardens to bloom
enchanted deliriums
These Heracles poets
building thoughts on pyres
shifting
visions from smoldering ashes
to immortal breaths
unfearing
while others crouch faint of heart
at breaking
links that bind
chains of sameness (sanity)
where the bravest poets must go
I don’t have that kind of courage
..................Do you? | |
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| The Heracles Poets
Posted: 4/13/2006 9:50:55 AM | wow drea, That was cool!!! a very cool poem indeed!! polished off with that question too!
I'm inspired by that!! Now I want to go do a poem with real depth..
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~a haiku...f*ck the rhyme rule
Masculine
Split the stadium
Feminine | |
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| The Heracles Poets
Posted: 4/13/2006 12:10:05 PM | Great thread, Drea, awesome writes in here
I am slipped beyond vantage point
Of a dream
Columns of atmosphere
Distinguished lessons in breathing
Hanging on
Letting go
Magnetic joy in being alone | |
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| The Heracles Poets
Posted: 4/13/2006 12:42:02 PM | i love reading the poems there realy good but im not a poet and i even know it   | |
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| The Heracles Poets
Posted: 4/13/2006 5:56:52 PM | Thanks Om, Blitz, 38miss for the support!
Sweet dreams! | |
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| The Heracles Poets
Posted: 4/13/2006 8:17:16 PM | I know exactly how you feel about trying to capture a dream. I had a dream which I've attempted to write in a poem, but it always felt like it fell just short. I've posted this elsewhere, but maybe I could get some insite from you drea, and others.
Ethereal whiteness, cold marble skin, begging warmth in a touch
You are surrounded by stark lines of reality
I am trapped within harsh reality
When first I saw you, I was amazed, and yet amazement is too small a word
There is no describing you.
There is only a feeling, beyond any feeling that I can describe
It is fatal nearness of long yearning, so close to completion
Yet it is so far from reach
It is aching for loss in your embrace…
Desire for faceless woman
I wrote this on 11/4/2004 right after I had the dream. It was so real and touched me more than any other dream has (and I've had some good ones). The dream basically went like this:
I was standing outside the wrought iron gates of an ancient renaissance style castle. The gates were open so I walked in. Inside the courtyard, everything was exact, bushes and trees shaped and formed. In the middle was a woman of almost translucent white skin. She was a statue and yet she drew me with a strange mixture of cold and warmth. Everything was in complete contrast; long jet black hair, perfectly white skin, and the reddest lips. I approached her worshipfully and went to kiss her lips. I awoke with the deepest ache, it was incredible. I can still remember so vividly. Even so it's always out of reach.
Strange eh?
I would appreciate anyone's thoughts. Drea, I think you have a gift. | |
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| The Heracles Poets
Posted: 4/13/2006 8:55:53 PM | OMG Lyricmuse, reading that I actually felt like it was my dream..FELT what you woke up feeling!! I simply loved it..it made me feel like crying!
Reminded me of that "wispy wind blowing thru your hair as you look out to sea on a moonlit night kind of feeling" I can never quite find the words to describe..ahhhhh...no words....but the emotions of the dream still won't let me go...
This dream thing may have potential.
Thanks for sharing that!! | |
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| The Heracles Poets
Posted: 4/13/2006 9:10:32 PM | Told you it would not let me go LOL.
I pour myself
melting
into the sea
my waves
seeking
that tiny spot
of sand that
contains all of
me | |
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om
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Joined: 4/6/2006
Msg: 14 | |
| The Heracles Poets
Posted: 4/15/2006 1:19:04 AM | ^^^"I pour myself^^^
another beaut drea, I love it!!
lyric muse, woaw, nice dream..
bltzn, very cool also...
Said I'd be back with summin...:)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Manhattan Dream
If I were six foot one
I would build a dream sky
As big as Manhattan
And walk through clouds
On the soles of my feet
But I am not
So I cut a dream
As large as my hands
And true as my heart
Can beat
````````````````````````
darn rhyme though..lol | |
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| The Heracles Poets
Posted: 4/15/2006 2:11:25 PM | OM, I loved Manhattan Dreams!! I want one so I can forever walk in the clouds..I think I will paint my floor that way LOL.
Black Mary thanks for dropping by! Feel free to post sick lucid sex dreams!!
Thanks for the feedback & encouragement.
AC
( In process)
I dreamed a world
that filled me up
returning me to
"the nameless"
(the beginning of heaven and earth) | |
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om
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Joined: 4/6/2006
Msg: 17 | |
| The Heracles Poets
Posted: 4/17/2006 6:20:26 AM | Thanks drea, bm..had that dream again...What a pull...
had to get it down again...dreams are so cool to write on eh!
-----------------------------------------------------------
That House
A dream invite
Her voice,
His voice
Desires
The feel
Surreal,
To live Inside
White gown eyes
By shores
A house
Of dark
And light
Where lust
Desires
Deal | |
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| The Heracles Poets
Posted: 4/17/2006 9:18:28 AM | tantalizing om, tell us more......I heard if you dream it 3 times it becomes reality *smile.
Random Thought
strange, but true
it is the lost
that show me
my way home
For the Burning Crow(Part 1)
I dreamed a dream for you
cradled in the arms of
pink violets and purple daffodils
resting in a warm snow melting with
the nectar of love | |
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| Pillow Talk
Posted: 4/17/2006 9:58:15 AM | Hi Drea, great thread... I thought this would be a good home for this... I'm playing around with a different style than my other poems...
Pillow Talk
As you sleep, words
stream from your lips like the post-coital
sighs of a Model T automobile
still delirious from the soft caresses of silk
stockings, hooks, snaps, bare knees.
It’s nonsense really – what you say out loud:
Yes, yes, I’ll take that one...
If you lie beside the elephant, the dust will fall on your hair…
I brush your forehead with the faithful gentleness
of an archeologist, eager for your skin to reveal your
dreams like hieroglyphics. But
I know your secrets hide deep in the blue
of your eyes, the blue which I like to pretend is
mine
as you sleep.
I feel sick.
As you sleep, I want to tell you, I love you, but
how can I? When being with you has turned everything I know of love
awry. Bit by bit you’ve taken away all my meaning. I have
no reference points but your blue and your sleepy
nonsense that makes me smile in ways
I’ve given up trying to define. So instead
I kiss your eyelids and whisper:
Ah, you’ll take that prostitute, will you?
But won’t the elephant’s wife get jealous? | |
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om
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Joined: 4/6/2006
Msg: 20 | |
| The Heracles Poets
Posted: 4/17/2006 10:01:37 AM | ^^^that sounds very warm and inviting drea!!
Edit; ra, That was very cool!! Love the change, dang youre good..
Put a smile on my face that did..lol.
A dream invite
Her voice,
His voice
Desires
The feel
Surreal,
To live Inside
White gown eyes
By shores
A house
Of dark
And light
Where lust
Desires
Deal
Their sex
To slave
Pain
White sheers
Leather straps
A soul
To steel
For Real
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thanks drea, I like it more now..I needed the nudge..lol | |
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| The Heracles Poets
Posted: 4/17/2006 10:55:02 AM | OM, I am thinking this already became reality...leather straps huh? LOL
Amish, thanks for dropping in, like the style…trying to work on that myself, but I’m still just a little poetry seed here, takes a long time to become a tree…I think I need more watering or fertilizer…..(hmmm that sounded erotic, must be all these sensuous dreams out here)
I especially liked these lines from the poem
I brush your forehead with the faithful gentleness
of an archeologist, eager for your skin to reveal your
dreams like hieroglyphics. But
I know your secrets hide deep in the blue
of your eyes, the blue which I like to pretend is
mine as you sleep.
I feel sick. … | |
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| What a Gift!
Posted: 4/17/2006 1:16:37 PM | all the buckets are filled with tears
soon they come to you
a tiny splice of a
perfect memory
captured in immortality
..as only
..you can do
a treasure more cherished
than having a new planet
named after you
Thank you
"the sleet stops droning
and the stll silence forbids
even the sun to shine"
Richard Wright from Haiku The Other World | |
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| Sick Lucid Sex Dream
Posted: 4/18/2006 8:59:19 AM | My good friend Drea suggested I post the following poem.
Sick Lucid Sex Dream
The boss throws a party
A Russian immigrant
He prefers vodka to Dostoevsky
He aims to shock his guests
With pornography
Films of bestiality
Women with dogs
Women with eels
Women with horses
Makes me think of Catherine the Great
Eat your heart out Kate
It’s not my cup of tea and I move on
Later I sleep and dream
And know that I am dreaming
The dream carries me to work
A convenience store with twelve pumps
Twelve apostles always pumping, pumping hard
Customers are everywhere
Outside raising Hell
Inside raising Hell
Outside and inside raising Hell
Like ants, streaming towards something
Dead, they approach me
Working their mandibles
Their insect faces
Wanting, wanting, wanting
Demanding directions, I give them directions
To insane asylums and deserted country dumps
To rusted train yards and dead motels
Demanding answers
I answer them with visions imparted telepathically
Visions of atrocity
Cathars!
Wounded Knee!
Nanking!
Auschwitz!
My Lai!
Cambodia!
El Salvador!
Abu Ghraib!
They scatter and run
Becoming small red worms
Writhing at the bottom
Of cheesecloth filters
Clutched in the hands
Of Napoleonic foot soldiers
Straining muddy water
From Berlin street puddles
I test the dream
I test my control
I grow
A multitude of arms
Arms of rubber elongating
Slinking and slithering
Arms that are everywhere
Like a wicked Uncle Ernie
Due to my spiritual poverty
I turn the dream into a sex dream
Instantly I build a woman
A young girl draped over the register
Face down, buns up
Pantiless with miniskirt flipped up
She recites my fantasies
As I pound away from behind
The arms flail about everywhere
Outside pumping
Inside pumping
Dealing and stealing
Throbbing and robbing
I am ringing and singing
This diddling song
I have no shame
No one is here
No one sees what I do
No one sees what I have made
I grab the girl by the hips
And as I prepare to drive it home
I look down- I jump back in stark
Horror- O- Horror!
From the waist down she is not human!
Her ass is the ass of Bambi!
The hindquarters of a young deer, a fawn
White spots on brown fur
And a patch of white under tail
Between her black-hooved shanks
No honeypot sanctuary, no hint of Venus
Instead lies a rasping lamprey’s mouth
A squid beak’s biting, a roseate abyss
Now all control is lost
Not even the illusion
Of control
Remains
And I’m out of there!
Thrusting myself
Out of the depths of the dream
I awake gasping
In terror and shame
No one is there
No one knows where I go | |
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| The Burning Crow Part 2
Posted: 4/19/2006 8:30:59 AM | BM, I am sure glad THAT was not MY dream LOL LOL... Thanks for posting.
Burning Crow Part 2
You dreamed a different dream,
your spirit, like fingers in my hair
on my canyon crest where healing breathes,
whispers to me of a wounded crow
who locked himself with the nothing that is,
confined behind bars lined with misty legends
that melted the prison keys of redemption
within some fiery cloud,
darkening windows to block even sun’s sustenance | |
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om
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Joined: 4/6/2006
Msg: 25 | |
| The Burning Crow Part 2
Posted: 4/19/2006 12:54:47 PM | Nice painting drea!! and bm, think I read that elsewhere but a great read again! and btw,bm
I really love your "genesis". My sons initials are Ash...2+2...?
strength to us all eh..:)
Love the haikus drea, Thanks. | |
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