The Orange Island of Memories Fading
Before my eyes lay concealed the Orange Island of memories fading,
I feel as though I am but a shadow of the shade, wading throughout
The evergreen glades of youthful reminiscence. The Elixir alongside
The Stone rests upon my pillow, the history of science, the revelation
That the scrutiny of our age is but a child born of ancient curiosity.
Through a forest of symbols the child is bound upon his quest,
Resting only when he knows that the time is right to fall and accept
The calling of slumber beyond the thundering of his senses unfiltered.
Reaching out to touch the source divine, is he fated as Icarus?
Step into the moulting cage; know that the Age is upon us.
We are to fly as we are to spread our wings un-sighing.
Open the container that confronts you promising Mystery.
A Bird Wing awaits of a thousand shades each bluer than the deepest sky.
Unheard Sirens sing, lulling to a state of numbed anxiety those that
Allow their hearts to listen in upon such melodies sweet in seduction.
A Marijuana Leaf lay in wait for the transportation you seek,
Back to a time, back to a place when everything seemed so undefined
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poem by David Lacey
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The Stag and the Purple Rose
She’s trying to speak; failing as she is trailing her words
Throughout the mists of obscurity’s blanket.
Metallic monstrosities fly on by the window pane
Of my new and unholy asylum from the world outside.
I can hear a confusion of conversations held by some
Deranged Gentleman of staggering stature, he dwells
Amongst the swelling guts of bar fly liquid mongers.
They mock interest in the whale, they mock interest with
Curses beyond the reach of jest. Oh what savages are these?
Oh what a notion of civilization it is that we hold for it seems as though
The further away you are from our world the safer you become,
Numbed are the sensibilities of man, numb is his love for his brother.
An aroma of stale cigarettes emits from every corner of the place
My glass is cool to touch, the condensation wetting the palms of my hand.
A familiar face stands beyond the boundaries of unknowing.
Looking around I feel nostalgia plunge my heart beneath a reflection blue.
Flat capped gentlemen drift on by the screen of my realities vision.
Her breasts are buxom monsters inciting me to cry.
These lustful eyes are the demise of youth for no clarity is there to be found
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poem by David Lacey
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Know the rulings of your heart are true
How can we expect good from anyone and be disappointed when
It is not displayed when we do not act in accordance to the rulings
Of our own hearts? How are we to expect anyone to resist the temptation
Of exploitation if we are to be so happy in exploiting others ourselves?
How are we to expect charity if we are never the ones to give it?
How are we to expect Love is we are never the ones to live it?
Are we to expect anything, least we end up disappointed?
I feel disjointed yet anointed with the blessing of being able to
Undress this manifest reality we have been given and to see
The true wonder that lay within just as I am here to show my gratitude
For the world beyond my flesh.
Just as the blood of the wasp has laid so
Heavy on my hands for all these years so
To continue build upon its stain a monument of refrain.
I know now is the time to step into the world as a figure
Of whom I am proud to dwell within, setting modes to inner flight
The night’s road comes to a graceful end as we sing of the songs of Love you bring.
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poem by David Lacey
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17.46 - A Time Out of Time
17.46
Tornado, windmills rush in their spin,
Whirlwind songs for angels to sing.
I have dropped and fallen and now is the time to rise
I await, besides a half full bottle of ale
Rolling skin after skin together
Mixing my concoctions for the night.
Here, still and calm
I know the storm that gathers upon the horizon and I am ready.
Promising to myself never to be scared when offered the key to the kingdom of shades.
The smell of weekend sweat is embedded into my skin
My hair declares the desire for the kiss of water
Yet I know that tomorrow is the day of my cleansing
Tonight I am red dirt, an un-shirted angel
Flirting with the devil in my heart.
17.59
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poem by David Lacey
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Reflections Surreal
I remember so well seeing you for the first time
Laying my gaze upon your youthful and oh so tender flesh,
Little did I know such a beauty would bloom upon the
Journey of adolescence. Little did I know that you
Would breathe such fresh breathe into my world.
I remember so well knowing you for the first time,
Sitting besides you in the classroom of our unwinding,
Asking you what it was you worse beneath the cloth
That hugged so tightly to your figure that I little room
For reason as lust and trust in instinct were united in a
Lifetime of maddened passion enflamed. Nothing would
Have been the same if we had kissed and always will I
Feel as though it was something that I missed, for you,
Your were my first blue, the abyss of blue out of time
And place. Now full of faith in destiny but still unsure of
My face I remain a fool upon the hill, masked, triumphant
In some insane mockery of knowing through imagination
The touch of your lips upon my skin. Let me in, Let me in.
I remember so well having you lead me upon a leash upon
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poem by David Lacey
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The Journey
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 change 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 a shallow grave.
The journey
The journey engulfing.
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poem by David Lacey
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The Temple Of Our Crown
Idols of death promise wisdom within the bliss of sleep,
We dream not for we are awake
I stand not for I am shaking
Awaiting grim realities to take on hold of me
Prizing sanity from my grasp
Clasping tight around the boundaries of my asylum love.
Horned spirits of the fabric night are rising
Promising wisdom alongside the kiss of death.
Sleep until the morning breaks
Feel the sun and rise awake.
College girls drive wild the lust of the poet in pain
Be my world, can you trust me, is this a face you can but your faith in?
We are as children bearing candlelight
Forming shadows as we dance
We are as children of the fragrant night
Chancing upon the movement at hand
Chancing upon a lance hope of revolution.
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poem by David Lacey
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Come Together
As mystery ferments within the womb of Our Mother
We anticipate the rebirth of appreciation.
Meditate within your shell,
Build your heaven from the remnants of a hollow hell.
Ramble little lamb, forever onwards towards the horizon,
As clouds above form as child flown chariots, raining down
Strikes on inspiration. Forget regret.
The Muse she stirs my heart a blur,
As spiral constructs obstruct the glare
Of Apollo in his pride
High above, oh yellow yoke
The higher he’s a getting
The sooner will his race be run
The nearer he’ll be to setting.
Towers cooling bellow smoke into the purity of the skyline.
Tainting yellow, a sickly shade the skin of those fools
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poem by David Lacey
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Seek your Destiny upon a Desert Trail
My body aches with satisfied desire.
My body burns upon a funeral pyre.
Angels and Demons both conspire
To lead the night throughout the fire.
Tell me where we go from here.
Shed your fears in a single tear,
Love is one and one is near
Who will love you forever dearly.
Outside a sky of azure shades acts as a canopy to this Paradise of ours,
Clouds of smothering grace drift upon the faith that leads them.
I pass away the hours as I know they are ours to pass away.
A drill nearby tears through a concrete driveway,
There stands a boy, dirt beneath his fingernails,
Failing in his attempt to trail the sun,
His is a story as yet un-spun.
The horse of the pasture grazes nearby dreaming of freedom,
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poem by David Lacey
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Good Mother
What will make no sense to one man holds revelation for the next.
Bless the muse her word's of wisdom.
Bless Boon for a guiding hand.
Bless the Ice Queen Virgins of the valley
Whom pacified this land.
My religion my own, opinion my own
Grounded isolation, home sweet home.
Guard your secret well my son, remember as the Oboe done,
the way to flow, to call upon Pan, to know the giant's dance
Good mother adorns her child in spirit, maiden, mother, crone
Spin to measure to cut the thread of crowns hewn out of bone.
He may have no name, no distinct aroma
Just a song he whistles as he walks,
Vervain carried for protection, in honour of Venus turn your coat
To lift the mood.
To pull straight through.
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poem by David Lacey
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