Dreams of Avalon
Into the wilderness blue she strides turning her head from temptation,
Within the heart of her soul lay the prospect of pure redemption.
Clarity she seeks upon her Journey as I sit and ponder within myself.
Open are the realms to long lost memories of crying beneath
The covers of a blood red blanket asylum. I remember now, burying
My head into the pillow of forgetfulness, I remember now how I felt
Whilst travelling home bearing the tears of regret,
I remember now leaving the beauty of frozen mountain ranges behind
Me as I strode on into the heavy unknown.
Such a strange memory it is to have awoken at this time yet I have grown
Upon and beyond the tears that kept me drowning and I have become
All to aware that those are the memories that ground me alongside
Reminding me of my freedom.
I pray you are never but a memory of a former life
But that I know you to be near throughout my existence upon this plain and beyond
Though I understand we may be worlds apart at times, sometimes with distances growing.
Spoken is my heart too often, numbed is the sensibility of my reason,
Yet it would seem high treason of the soul to silence the spirit of passions saviour.
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poem by David Lacey
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Moonshine Find Me
Through vast pine forests they have searched
They are leaving the country
Seeking clarity within the labyrinth of city streets unwinding.
Moonshine find me.
I have awoken and for the first time in my life known the bliss of love as real.
And here I am at my journeys end
Having found my love in the arms of a friend,
And What greater love is there to seek
Than the love that makes your knees grow weak?
Can you hear upon the wind the stories of our forefathers?
A thousand dreams are sewn it seems from petals in descent.
And smiling lost within the moment present... what could I resent?
Fed upon the fruits of the earth
Drinking water from the freshest springs
Here I am within the moment of rebirth
Here to spread my wings
Ascending into flight
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poem by David Lacey
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Industrial Fortress
Where are they now?
Those voices that once held dominion over my mind.
What poor soul are they accusing of forgiveness in seeking beyond blindness
All that lay in wait for us within a kingdom of ever changing ages?
They story turns, my pupils burn and the world unfolds, never younger,
Never older but always the story is told. Wrapped in paper skin I'm dissolving
Into a solution of madness, revolving around a hope in revolution.
An Industrial fortress stands as solemn testament to the devilry of man,
Silhouetted against the sickly yellow clouds that smother the horizon
A labyrinth of pipes and towers forever cooling unwinds before the eye
They have proclaimed the death of the river man; they have proclaimed the death of the sky
And told are we as children lost that no Jack is there to paint the frost upon the window pane.
The forest night is dead it seems and peopled only by our dreams
Those ghosts of ever fading pasts, those memories which forever last.
The flames of the solar phoenix are flaring
The days are dissolving beyond recollection and no hope of resurrection is there for we
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poem by David Lacey
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She Rides upon Felt Fabric Skies
Skylines melt whilst merging beyond the scope of eternal horizons.
She rides upon felt fabric skies, holding true the spell she casts forth with her eyes,
Outside Our Lady Moon is moving towards the fulfillment of her potential,
Energies potent soar as the big sun comes a roaring upon a chariot of golden wings.
Hear the sirens sing beside the pipers piping songs of merry cheer.
Make love, sweet love throughout the year. Shed a tear for the fears of the world,
Remembering not to simply sigh at the storm clouds gathering above the west
Remembering not to simply rest as the forest magnificent,
As our mother universal is Mauled by the savage dogs of industry’s bellowing.
They’ve smoked way the sky of blue and taken from us the gift of our blessing, they have Dressed the sky in funerary robes in preparing the beauty of our mother for her tomb, What reason is there for treason against the immortal womb of our kind, what reason can There be to turn upon that which gave unto us the gifts of our minds, for we are to know When we are blind just as we are to know that there will always be questions with answers un-answered forever calling to be found. Turn the circle round, what do you see?
Can a star conceive its beauty in correspondence to the next within its constellation?
Can a man perceive true beauty if he has not taken all of creation into consideration?
poem by David Lacey
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Seek Guidance Within Yourself
She paints the picture perfect, a circle full in turn
As I lay upon the ground a worm, crawling upon
My stomach, melting in the dirt. Flirting with shirtless
Daemons that run amok amongst this sanctuary of mine.
Listen as the scratch of the nib upon the virgin page
Fuels the passion for marriage, bliss, tenderness engaged.
How am I ever to perceive any form of blanket truth
If I am constantly soothed through the words of a mothers reassurance?
In capturing concepts they are projecting towards false ideals
Of perfection a reflection of looking glass conundrums, pandemonium pursues.
Seek guidance within yourself
Awaken, the palace gates are open to you
As the empress upon her throne
Makes her home a home for you.
From her lampshade
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poem by David Lacey
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Still Our Mother weeps
Our mother weeps as floorboards creep in and out of season
As Eden weaves autumnal leaves each day without a reason.
Embroidered confectionary poured upon the child lavished in affection.
As savage reflections are cast upon funhouse mirror imagery.
Autumns leaves are shivering in Winters wake, as the land sleeps
Beneath a blanket virgin laid down my maidens Blue.
Veins are running thick fast currents of mountain dew all In
Anticipation of your presence. All in appreciation of your essence.
Outside the wind breaks at the gates of dawn, she calls
Upon the mother of pearl mornings claiming that without
Warning Tempestries would never run to rest, at best she claims
They may lay below a burning sky, under the illusion of false blessings cast.
Shake away the nightmare, leave it wallow.
Swallow your pride, ride beyond your boundaries.
Break the horizon, break beyond the wave.
Savour memories fond, sacred in favour.
Still Our Mother weeps, still virginal maidens creep, keeping cold my veins.
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poem by David Lacey
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Within Minster Grounds I Tremble
A thousand dreams are lost it seems as petals in descent
Falling to the ground in forgetting of a world chasing golden chariots across an azure sky
To wonder why
To cry
To sigh
And to try for something greater
These are the things the shake our souls
And make us equal with our maker.
Within Minster grounds I tremble
Seeking a knowledge of myself
So that I alone may reassemble
All that I’ve left lost along my way.
Fairies gather here, leading young girls astray from the dance
They are the brides of slow decay, Pretty maids, lifeless dolls,
Parading cold stares, adorning themselves in the feathers of
Innocence when a look within the eye leaves trembling the lover of love.
The Willow Man is playing the pipes of midnight melody
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poem by David Lacey
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Virgin Angel Butterfly Wings
A call upon the line manifests itself into a movement of emotion swift.
Leave me here to drift I’m happy enough within the circle.
As rifts form a chasm of unfolding the story untold, as we stride once more
Bold into the headlights, growing old beneath the streetlight, I await
Still the coming of a confidence strong enough to roll the words out
From upon my tongue, since I was young they hath haunted me; the demons
Of insecurity and now I know how to show the world that I can do so much
More than lie placid by the fireplace curled. Out of our shells we form as
Virgin angel butterfly wings. Sing Summer Sing, Oh what love it is you bring.
Ring bells ring, Oh what sounds of Joy you bring to the fool upon the hill
Toying with his perception of those upon the ground. He’s waiting there still
Lost unsound of reason. Where can he turn as the yoke mid-graze spellbinds
His conduct, leaving him subject to the music of the spheres? Where is his to turn?
Where is he to hide his tears as he runs shedding fears as snake skins upon a whim?
Sing Love sing, inspire as my muse. Sing Muse your words of wisdom, bring Love
Light from beyond the void of the chasm calling, the abyss is beckoning upon us to fall.
As the tears of angels plummet in unison beating upon the ground in an act of fusion,
They sink into their mothers cheek as still my knees grow weak at the sound of their
Fanfare parading.
poem by David Lacey
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A World of Rolling Dust
Dogs are chewing there own legs down to the bone
As children play within the bloodshed attempting
To keep happy and bright a world of rolling dust.
Open bullet wounds in the Childs side reveal the
Uncaring justice of Ares, the wood nymphs of the
Wild night are praying to Bacchus, calling him to
Fuel the ecstasy of man towards love of his brother
Upon the vine they call, falling upon there knees in prayer
They await him in silence to stem from his
Father’s thigh, Zeus god of the sky is watching as
Ever leaving to men and the Fates their destiny
Yet as he watches he sighs for it seems as though
Man has lost his knowledge divine, he hath separated
The science beyond a need to know each other for
Once in the world all wisdom was as a circle of
Kings who ruled over a kingdom unison
Yet now it seems that each hath created his boundaries
Each resents the other to occupy his land and so
Man hath forgotten the eternity within the palm of his hand,
So man has lost his ability to recognise and understand
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poem by David Lacey
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In Sleeping I Open My Eyes
A whisper in the shadows of my heart is echoing
Throughout the caverns of my mindscape.
The guardian at the gate awaits me,
Casting away foul entities and keeping watch for the return
Of Father Sky and his retinue. The wild hunt is prowling the stars this night
Seeking those midnight dancers whom wish to know the wisdom bliss of wisdoms kiss.
Are not the madmen we lock away in grim plastic towers grey
Those same men who led us in past times, breaking the boundaries of reality
Beating branches upon the ground, sounding the horns of midnight’s calling.
Leading the dance in ecstasy without a thought of sin,
Beating the barriers of worlds down with intoxicating rhythm?
Once it was we who would stand in conference with kings
What now for us? Now that we have been reduced to a rambling ring
Of underground gutter poets, striving for a better life.
What now for us now that we have been left, desolate in isolation
Surrounded by all and known by none?
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poem by David Lacey
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