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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Continued from Part 2 5. MIDNIGHT DREAMS At night the soldiers sometimes dream of many things which make them scream, like floating down a gelid stream with burning flesh and cold ice cream upon their lips, which makes it seem as though their salt they can’t redeem when looking back at bold extremes of valiant warriors’ victory schemes. Or ofter yet, they sometimes meet a broken skull upon the street with gaping eyes, its mouth replete with swollen tongue that can’t repeat mere words of joy when lovers greet, or yell aloud or indiscreet’, or talk about the grand deceit of Those Who live on Easy Street, Who plot, destroy and overeat, while others bide beneath a sheet on bed of steely cold concrete, with final gift a flag or wreath that soon will wither like their teeth when once they’re settled underneath a mound of muck on mouldy heath, to lurk in Limbo Land beneath. And ever more before they wake, appear quaint dreams not quite opaque, like upside down upon a lake keeps popping up a pregnant Drake who says “there must be some mistake, I only have a bellyache”, while high above’s a flying Snake, (a sight to make a killer quake). She cries aloud “for mercy’s sake your foresight’s blind, your wisdom’s fake the fragile bodies that you break, impale or burn upon a stake, then stack in layers like a cake, reflect a lust that death can’t slake”. And turquoise Turtles on the make (though taking time to overtake, each slurping down a chocolate shake) rev up to plead “let us explain, we think you men are all insane with morals thin as cellophane; for, peering through god’s window pane, we see quite clearly those you’ve slain, enough to fill the Dim Domain with blood and guts and tears and pain, Chimeras of a frenzied brain.” A worn and weary weather vane announces floods of claret rain that forty days and nights sustain, submerging mountains, raising Cain, while flushing mankind’s acid reign down nature’s evolution drain. The Serpent hails a hydroplane “because”, she hissed, “we can’t remain; behind the hill, the atom’s spark has vaporized the palace park, reduced to dust the Meadowlark and nullified the Rainbow’s arc”. And while the others hush and hark, a feline Toad begins to bark “This plane is certainly Boa’s Ark. Let’s flee the Human hierarch, forsake all Men to sate the Shark which swim within the Waters Dark, and purge all traces of the Mark in Eden when we disembark.” The beasts, in lines, by twos embark. The dreamers wake, they’re staring, stark, behind their eyes, a watermark. End
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