Soaked In Serotonin - Poem by David Lacey
Clouds of thunder erupt above the serenity of my dwelling place,
The sky though grey retains its magnificence. The downpour swells.
The streets run acid drips of erosion down their gutters as the
Blackbird flutters its wings in hope of returning hope before being soaked.
I know that beyond the grey lay the last rays of Apollo’s glory,
His return is promised by the knowledge of all that has gone before us
Yet we are no more guaranteed that the sun will rise tomorrow
As we are guaranteed of a life everlasting beyond the need of redemption.
The God Child dwells within us all and it is towards our potential that
We our called by our aspirations; they whisper throughout the night,
Those Muses of delight that take us upon our flights of fancy, leaving us
At times deranged yet forever they’ll know and they’ll tell you that beauty
Is the flowers show. Still the rain continues to fall. With each beat upon
The pavement, with each ripple they call, feeding inspiration towards the
Heart of the poets All. Beyond the summer, beyond the fall Death promises
Life anew, beyond the blue, beyond the grey lay a crimson sky in dismay.
A Red Sun wavered upon the horizon as fueled by ecstasy he danced
Chancing circles in and out of time with the rhythm of his heartbeat.
The sky melts so close to merging with the boundary of my vision,
Blackbirds sink into the green yet still I hear them filling the forest
With the songs of their undressing. What a blessing it is to be here,
Born into this form, born beyond the storm of a world at war and waiting.
He danced and dances still, upon the hill, seeking his thrills in pleasure pills.
The hours passed alike seconds, as the mind of the wanderer soaked in serotonin
Sought the forest as his home, crying out to the Gods of the woodland to keep
Him calm throughout the dissolution of his inhibition, yet listen they did not
As the Emerald Queen took him by the hand, speaking of a love of spring and the land
She stood, domineering in her beauty grand, and there still she stands holding
Cold the stone statuette of a dying virgin poets heart. For dance did he in circles
With her grace, dance did he till he lost his faith in the significance of existence,
Then slipping silently into twilight procession he understood his obsession with
Transcendence yet it was too late for him, the Fates had decreed and he was turned
To stone though the Emerald Queen with her pleas did all she could to try
And halt the Guardians of the woodland in their conduction of law surreal.
He had known too much in the touch of her palm, he had found calm
Beyond the need of a love of the All, he had fallen in Love with our immortal
Maiden Green and now he contemplates within a dream existence whether or
Not he would dance with her again or whether he would refrain from the pain
Of loosing all upon the Earth he choose to Love, was the truth of a dream within
The skies above enough to balance the Love of his family and friends?
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