We Tread Where Demons Lay Their Dead
Watch the river pass on by
Listen as the children cry
The dream has crumbled
Tumbling down the dream has crumbled
Faint echo’s of the memory gather in the groves of my mindscape
The time has come for the solar god to rise.
Apollo, phoenix from the ashes.
I have cast in my folly all that lay sacred to me.
The Dragon’s art enriddled, the art of art revealed.
The secret lay lost to the memory of forgetting.
Our journey has changed course
The winds! The winds have turned against our favour.
Overwhelmed by an addiction breeding,
Defenceless upon my knees
I refuse to serve you now
I would rather lay low in shallow grave.
The journey
The journey engulfing.
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poem by David Lacey
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Let Me In
Now we are left suckling upon exhausts
The slow hum drum chur of droning tarmac snakes acting as our lullabies.
A feather floats down from the heavens
And I laugh - I laugh in the hope of crying.
Who are these girls wearing rose tainted shades within the shadow night?
Dressed for the parade unwinding?
I have no time for hollow masks.
I have gathered for you crystal stones from the garden lost.
The gate was hidden within the canopy of the Willow man
In the midst of the garden there was a girl
Crimson hair - starlit eyes
Angelic proportions - a smile to melt the heart of a tyrant
The ocean breathes within her eyes
And now in leaving her without a kiss
It seems that I have missed the opportunity to know love
But I shall strive towards the knowledge of her dreamtime sanctuary.
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poem by David Lacey
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Here In The Mounds Of Death
Feed the fantasy lost within a suffocating reality.
Listen, the flutes of the forest night are calling, can you hear?
Listen as you shed a tear for the last leaf of autumn falling,
Winter’s dawn is rising fast upon the horizons of our vision
And we are as the children of Eve lost to blanket insanity.
As each day disappears into the last we are waiting,
Awaiting the guardian at the gate to promise flowered
Wisdom in a lover’s kiss, yet there is something missing here
Within a world imbued with burning sigils of fear.
Into the eye of the dragon that holds the sky within his teeth
We stride, riding on unto the midnight sun
Never fearing the kingdom of shades
Nor running to hide from the waves of karmas tides.
Within celestial mansions built of ethereal elements
They reside; the Ancient Gods of our awakening.
The solar dragon is watching, keeping close and warming eye
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poem by David Lacey
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Why Is It Silent This Ocean Of Souls?
The circle is turning its seventh wheel
And reality is breaking at its boundaries
Small worlds are colliding once more
Upon the tapestry unfolding
And we are to set our sails for new horizons
We are to set sail in search of a home we have never known.
Where are the birds of morning’s song?
Why is it silent this ocean of souls?
I shall ask the elders….
Allow your heart to smile
Allow your friends to sing
And dance, go dance just for a while
And know the love you bring.
Her eyes they shone a diamond mile
Below the moon a lamplight flickering between island clouds
I asked her to dance just for a while
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poem by David Lacey
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Death Old Friend
Unsure, Apprehensive
Yet born to persevere throughout confusion,
Through fear he strides below two moons,
Some lonesome traveller confronted with anger
Wrings out his rags blood red, none spared for his victims.
He claims there’s no crime in a duel, a duet, a ballet,
Merrily he’s on his way, beyond the curtain call
Singing as he staggers, hoping to keep the wolves at bay.
Black milk skins wrapped in virgin linen.
She knows she must ride, that she must rise.
Seek out the spinners of the night,
Washerwomen wringing their rags in delight
Awaiting as they are the time to come when
Their souls may be released.
Death
Signalled out for us?
A certain time?
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poem by David Lacey
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Evangilists are the beggers of the spiritual world
If our art in magic be the work of cartoon devils
Then what is it that they who would claim themselves
As angels upon this plain would call their prayer?
Are they not themselves invoking the gods?
Down on their knees, begging, pleading for miracles
Are they not themselves giving themselves to the earth.
How foolish it seems to define reality from dreams
When it is through our dreams that we aspire towards
The creation of a heavens bliss on earth.
Red dirt shamans sit casting sticks upon the ground
Reading the past, the present and the future in their fall.
Evangilists are the beggers of the spiritual world,
Those grim eyed men and woman that would attempt
In convincing you that they were your only chance of
Redemption. They perdition a cartoon lord who resembles
More father christmas than he does any hope of unity.
They ask for favours without hoping to give anything
In return, they ask for favours when it is they that
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poem by David Lacey
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Sensation penetration
Sensation penetration, a diversion at the best of times,
At worst a crime of violent colours, as shadows feed,
As shades parade, breeding upon the insomnia of the sun.
Hoping as they prayed his time was done, yet here he comes
As they run faceless through the void, traceless in their dreams.
The dogs are calling out your name, rabid wild and roaming
As storm clouds gather over head, a sky once mild is foaming.
Intangible tears come falling, rolling down the cheek of the girl,
The girl who was never there to keep your knees from growing weak
At the prospect of an eternity without care, without caress,
Without fingers to run soft smooth rhythms through your hair.
Do you perceive a life with the stone, in recognition of its growth?
Could you receive a love born of a soul outcast? Alone dreaming
Of servitude to a higher cause, always awaiting, never grown,
At least not by the standards of man in his infinite wisdom.
Could you tell me when the cycle begun to turn the loom of fate un-spun,
All we are it seems, unique, freakish in origin, running a race never to be won
For no restrictions have been set, no rules have been laid to forget
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poem by David Lacey
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Who are these people?
Who are these people? where are they streaming? Glass eyes tight shut as though they were dreaming?
Garrotted, throats slit as a token of sacrifice to the eternel god's,
Bodies cast down to the depth's of brooding pete bogs.
'Did you surrender yourself, your will to the ritual, Or be this simply a punishment for a crime, we shall never know.'
Sword's split skull's, not hard enough to kill
Just to lull, least drag their victims senses into the void.
Calling on the Goddess of spring through to autumn, of summer's sun and winter rain
Only your head, throne of the soul survives the passage of time to breathe again.
'From where did you come? ' ask's the child to his mother
'From my mother, her mother before her'
'So where does my father fit into this, what seem's such simple a matter? '
'He work's his hand's to the bone, then come's home late, wait's at the table just to get fatter.
That's what he does, he seems happy enough, he has no illusions to shatter'
'What off my father, from wence doth he stem, from his father and father before? '
'Nay, It goes way further than that, to back when, our only mother was the mother of yore
Mother of earth, blessed mother of pearl, reveal to us the wisdom's with which you blanket the world.
poem by David Lacey
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Memory slips as memory fades
Alas I know not where to go, for all the places I know, I've been.
Alas I have been shown not where to go nor can I remember all I've seen.
Memory slips as memory fades as shades they flip exposed to flames.
As insects roast upon the embers of the fire,
A blaze trailed through the void of darkness,
Breathing destruction upon dry bone leaves,
Bearing down destruction upon well established trees.
The crown of the forest resides his power
Biding his time awaiting the shower of inferno
Gatherings as the elders race forever young towards
the fountain groves to quench their tongues
A new race has begun, another year of wondering
Aimlessly it seems trying to find a meaning etched
Within our dreams. These eyes grow tired each second past,
I'll try still I fear I'll never last
I fear I may have lain placid upon the grass too long.
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poem by David Lacey
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Solem, Sunken, Sombre, Drunken.
Shes been down, shes been out with a smile on her face
That never manages to reach her eyes.
Shes been down, shes been out, she's lost every race
always loosing track with her head in the clouds.
Blinded by the grazing yoke, confounded by a lazy joke
Hassled by the thronging crowds, gathered, dirty, looming clouds
We've got to get away from here, without a kiss, without a tear
To spread our wings and fly away, without a single word for fear
Nothing more to be said, nothing more to be sold
No more yarns to spin, no more stories to be told
No more poems to reciete, no more books to read
No more mirrors in which to look, no more religion in which to believe
No more combs for your hair, or spoons for your soup
No more guys at the corner to whistle reassure you that your cute.
No more ribbons to tie in the back of your hair,
No more flowers, where they ever there?
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poem by David Lacey
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