David Lacey

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

The Black Book Of Santiago - Poem by David Lacey

Spiralling towards oblivion
Am I to abandon any hope of recovery?

I feel the blanket shifting
Acid clouds above my head.
All about my form lay broken bodies mangled
Tarnished flesh horrors await as the waxworks melt
Slow, soft, sombre, felt fabric drips come melting sweet
A torrent of fear upon the street victims helpless below.

Cooling towers upon the horizon act as cloud factories.
What hope do we have of recovery?

Electric snakes wind entwining themselves
Around the roots of the venerable Oak.

What horror of industry is this that pollutes our horizon so?

Children seek their mother through discomfort.
Fathers are no longer to be honoured.
Shallow streets fuel the addicts need for release.
I spiral onwards - ever inwards for the horrors
That await beyond my flesh are more than I can bare.
I close my eyes. I make as though I was never there.

Confusion swells within this heart of mine
For every time I drift within my thought
I find myself caught and sinking
Blind ever thinking without accepting the
Truth of my knowing the river must flow forever more.

I find myself dwelling too often with ghost companions
From a former life. Confusion swells abandoned, isolated
From dreamstates. Are we alone to guide our hands in blessing?

Who are we to un-shroud the mystery.
Who are we to proclaim transcendental truths aloud?
Who are we to pluck fruit so easily from the branches of the world tree?
We are they who have set emotion free.

No more than a flower blooming are we that swoon beneath the moon.
Open your heart to the warmth of the sun.
Allow Apollo's kiss upon your cheeks.
Seek. Seek forever more beyond the river of your flowing.
Take in the clouds as colors change - re arranging
Upon the skylines. Pastel shades are fading.
Night is awoken. Awaiting in the shadows still
Knowing soon is her time to rule upon the hill.

Ignore the crowds- the masses thronging outside the window
For all they hope for is a view of the morning show.
Let them know the circle full. Let them know the tears of Joy.

Spirits rise in procession
Paying homage to the soul of Albion's sage
A new age is born from Romance.

We are as ever attempting
Aspiration towards redemption whole

They sing - as sweet melodies linger upon the breeze.

Old friends no longer recognize the Love they once held dear
Good friends no loner recognize attachments long forgotten.

The Fate's hath begotten a tapestry blue.

Two lone warriors stride headstrong into the nightmare
Shadows unfolded themselves to reveal all they once concealed
Paranoia calls - beckoning you to close the window.
Close it to the world outside. Shut yourself blind.

Who knows what you may find
Seeking justice beyond the eggshell cracked
Feed. Breed upon the invisible leash.
Know that no release is necessary
For the form you know as your own
Is set upon the path of secret shadows revealed.

Comments about The Black Book Of Santiago by David Lacey

  • (1/15/2009 11:43:00 PM)

    I read and wept, I will weep more, thank you. sherri coulter ++10 (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, April 8, 2006

Poem Edited: Saturday, December 1, 2012

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