Phi Poetry of Reality In Dream
"I have seen and heard the vibrancy of dreams,
and the way
of the crossings-through the ills
and through the barriered things."
A fleeting spark that perceives,
I, have seen it envision the winds,
be a corridor to a world that cleaves ;
on the back of a great Tortoise Queen,
her shell of Crystallized Diamonds and Obsidian
and winking sheen,
Pregnansing-the nautilus nigh-
milking the Oceans, green -
silken threads of tithe that wander- tied
to the explore,
checking in with a playful bounce off the shores.
In the whispers of the ancient cove that licks
beneath ticklish groves,
secrets of time are carried on the breeze,
each leaf a page,
each branch a story,
in nature's library of living glory.
Even the petrified tomes,
bones to juice amalgamation to the soil
and return its irrigation to report the elements in Delta-Forest,
Naval Seals of Armed Centrifugal Recourse.
Incarnations of creation,
Roses of it's standing, ovation.
Bows of the rains in subterranean dive of karmatic reconnaissance-of-palladium-investigation.
Or in the dance of the flames, memories rise
like a smoke sensered back to the lightning deSkiesed
agent of metamorph with experience's troll,
a ballerina witch in a ballad or a bounty wished in a bowl.
Versation digesting nutritives
lost in supper's mundane conversations,
they tend to veer from the flickering fire's guise
of that tugboat yet christened and yet launched of mind, voyaged tale untold of the by and buy.
[P o e ti c P h i, a Golden Lampstand in the darkness
keeps at bay, a sea of shadows to ghost our veins.
Lighthouse our waves into beam of stage]
To be uttered's of the past, shadowed in light
or is it shadows of the past captured in-
of reflection's fleeting moment,
before taking flight
into perception's miscellaneous bin.
To rummage through drawer
and visualizer and arbitrate equalizer-mender of
felonious reach where tacks hide in bite of warn.
This Realitception, she is a sweet delicious whorn
in the depths of dreams, reality weaves,
a metamorphosis of truths and make-beliefs,
and toll-bridges of entrance scorn.
In a dance of shadows, a play of light,
trance of starkness, wheel against stagnance,
wings for flight.
Food fir thought, in this realm of realitception,
day turns to night so it may yearn-to be
a juggernaught
so that dreams urn in the coming of possibilities
new burning oceans,
of liquid fire, crystal electricity
solidified in the here of here
lightning of desire
offering of daylight to yield a turn to bare.
(To be the dream plucked from un-requite
to be a spin of the wheel of fortune in the lime light.)
Always bet on the true colors of imagination.
They are there to season each in its time for reason.
Copyright ©
Jude Herrick
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