David Lacey

Rookie - 287 Points (2/3/87 / Middlesbrough)

Addiction Goliath Futility Tamed - Poem by David Lacey

The blood of the wasp lies heavy upon your hands
Inside your skull lies as vast a land
As of that lies beyond your flesh.
Our bodies as projections of our deepest desires
Are tied to the mast, cast upon funeral pyres.
All For the crime of no longer knowing what we want

The blood of the wasp lies heavy upon your hands
It's too late now for any consolidations
For any plans of grandeur.
Welcome to the city. Welcome to the hive.
Bless the wasp, your pity
It's all that keeps his dreams alive.

The blood of the wasp lies heavy on your hands,
Outside the god's are counting out every grain of sand,
What better way to spend each day living life eternal
What better way than to keep on keeping on inside the inferno.

Tonight we face the daemons of our own insanities,
Of our well kept insecurities alongside our horrors unleashed,
To light the torch before the race it's all we ask,
Screaming profanities at those monsters of mist
Those who would cloud our clarity and lay our souls to waste.

So we ask.

Be destiny the persecutor or be it the blamed?
Be fate the firing squad by which our souls are maimed?

Addiction Goliath Futility Tamed.

The Black Rose has found his piece of ground
Never will he leave this season he has found
Unsound weeping as he grieves he's seen no
Death to mourn yet at times the digging thorns
Shred cloth be it fresh or be it worn.

Sour eyes wash over the face of time
We're loosing sense of ourselves
Loosing sense of everything
All we know is to exist, our purpose
To lie complacent upon the shelf
Hiding within our shells until we crack
Until we are released to prosper
Within a wealth of wisdom.

Fairy tale moralities come crashing down
When perceiving the world with a constant frown
I awoke this morning to the most startling sight
The sky as I had never seen before.

Through enchanted eyes it came no surprise
That I should separate colour from form and
Be left perceiving a world of perfection
Of harmony inconsistent from this gormless normal norm
The beauty of chaos leaves us at a loss for words
To describe the crying morning. To sing to dying dawn.

What did you learn upon your journey through the wilderness?
Through the recess of your mindscapes meanderings?
For what is it you yearn? Some company so your opinion
May be found through rebounding ideal on walls of blissful ignorance
Leave them on the ground, leave them for someone else to find.
Leave them to say that once somewhere a hope was found.

Time distilled the hour, the seconds came as days,
One moment as a lifetime, one moment more to play
The games of youth, one more moment to relive the
Memories of the sun kissed fields of living memory.

What more proof could you need that the truth you feed
Are no more than lies cast, set by ruthless greed
Those who can not bear themselves to arms to die
Nor for the dark voice filth fed beasts of their hearts,
Those who can not bear to lie in the past.

Apologetic tendencies tend to flow unheard
Prophetic dependencies leave you without a care
Secure in your belief, that the law of fatality
Will govern the mood and the ark in flood and food
Secure to the belief that the hand of fate is in control.

What kind of world is this we live in?

I ponder lay with eyelids curled,
Within the sanctuary of heat I ponder
Whilst I walk within my seat.

Fathers abusing their children,
Mothers killing their young
Selling her clothes for gin
For sin a penny she has none

Children beating teachers,
In re payment of a debt,
Through generation rebirth
Degeneracy has crept,

Latent in the young ones,
Smoked out in the old
Running out of ammo
They start to do as they are told,

Fold out of existence
Put up no resistance
The pigs in their persistence,
Will always flog down the rabid crowd.

So this is fate as they say
The way we play the games we play
The way we run when they chase us
With batons for fun to spray

What does it matter whether or not you believe?
What does it matter whether or not you deceive?

Eight diamonds are sewn upon the sleeve
Upon the turning of the leaf.

Up steps the child of dignity, honest in his reproach
Down plays the joy of vanity her very skin to touch
To revel in her splendor too suckling sweet for sour
Outside horrors await our flesh to melt to drip devour

Stoned are the shells of dreamers
Carving into gravestones
Left alone to dance are dancers
With long since mangled toes
Sidestepped ways to shredder
Each process in machine.
Each a dream within a dream
A process in the dream machine.

Now laugh and shake away every nightmare
That follows you into the day realm of your breathing
Pass wake and say I can keep steady at the helm
I can keep steady on what love I have to share
Still lies dead what love was ever hidden there.

Up steps the child of vanity the vulgar ones approach
Forgets the child of innocence has remembered way to much
Regrets the child of envy he never were to touch
A love ready for the breaking will it ever come to such.

All you wish is to collide with her flesh
To pound grind to come from behind
Slip your fingers between her thighs
As you linger and sigh away
In secret bliss for the blues today.
I'm shaking just thinking of waking
Next to the girl who's making me crazy,
Making me lazy, making concentration impossible
Making meditation hazy.

Memories are slipping as I'm loosing grip on
What ever strands of reality I may still hope to perceive.

David C Lacey

Topic(s) of this poem: madness

Comments about Addiction Goliath Futility Tamed by David Lacey

  • (1/12/2006 11:45:00 PM)

    This is an epic passionate rant, a bane of conformity, I enjoy the coupling of these scenes like one of the panels from Bosch's painting. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, October 5, 2005

Poem Edited: Monday, October 27, 2014

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