To The Strangest Girl I'Ve Ever Known Poem by David Lacey

Heretical hierarchies decompose in slow plastic tides.
An ode is sung, wild eyed for those too scared to run,
A lament for those that tried to ply open the chest’s secret encoded,
And still we are relying on the illusion that our guns are loaded,
That we’re ready to explode at anytime in floods of woeful fears,
Streaming tears in cascades, breaking barriers, overrunning barricades.

I spy dreamers washed up upon the shore, lost in isolation when they are
Surrounded by a thousand likewise ungrounded souls. Crying for a saviour.
The doorways are now broken that would have opened had a little
Patience been applied, had we relied on more than instinct to guide us through the skies.

Beyond the twilight, beyond our mother’s delight lies the truth so far out of sight that we require proof of our existence before we empower ourselves with love.

Some sickly rose of pale blue shades clasped upon my palm,
Gone are the days of failing you she said,
Leaving me in a jaded calm of slumbering silence.
What defence could I offer?
The gifts of love that I made to gain her favour?

It seems as though there’s nothing left to say
As I find myself day by day scratching around upon the ground,
Seeking the latch to the doorway high beyond my reach.
Whilst some patchwork princess in the recesses of my mind
Awaits me beyond the kissing gate.
I fear that all she will find is me huddled blind
Seeking the light reborn from a bleak descent into darkness.

All there is that’s lost is yours to find as vibrations evoke
Reminiscence of a time so long since passed that memory has lapsed,
Beyond the mists of times blessing,
Beyond the clouds obscuring the memory as ever alluring.

For regret I’ve found there is no cure,

To the strangest girl I’ve ever known

What madness is this that sadness should be the flavour of the hour?
Such strange a love in friendship is ours to hold, to devour,
Warming with every heartbeat until the second we grow cold and fading.
Our souls taken from their form to dance with angels in ascent.

Such horror is it to find both our souls in descent,
Skimming the surface of insanity and every so often submerging ourselves
Beneath the ever sleepless deep.

The unconscious tides of our emotion
Are as the tides and currents of the ocean.
And here we are, trying to keep ourselves from crying
When tears are the only joy we know.
Here we are within the water flowing
With starlit eyes of youth still glowing.

The river is bursting its banks
Who should we thank?

God?
Our Mother Divine?
Father Time?
Me?
You?
The sky of blue?

The river is bursting its banks
Who should we thank?