Bipolar Dreams

I am the castle on the mountain,

The spire on the church,

I fly like the lightning,

Standing atop the Earth,

And with my fists I can smash through planets,

Plunging through the core,

Tearing at heat itself,

I am the fiery lightning, the electric beast,

I can paint with the stars,

And wield the sun,

Blazing through time with fire and hate,

I can build, I can destroy,

I can create, I can crush,

I can trample the Earth,

And everything in it,

I am the dragon, the demon,

The flaming eyes of God,

I see all & I know the Earth,

The world is mine in my werewolf state,

And I pine for the thorns,

As I crush the rose that dies,

I am the devil warlord,

The screaming banshee of blood,

I am the manic monster,

And the Earth is mine!

As I fly with the flame,

Up to the darkened sun filled sky,

And I fall back to Earth,

Crashing through Darkness,

Plunging through shadow,

Till I smash on the rocks below…

Then there is darkness,

The bitter light is gone,

And I am left melting,

In the stabbing acid glare of a citrus bulb,

My mind is dripping through a sieve,

What was once a tight knot is unraveling,

I can feel a damp coffin around me,

I am decaying alive.

Melting into the foul earth,

My eyes, once flame are now liquid,

Warmly dripping down my cheeks,

I am blind and cold,

The light is gone and my blood is stale,

I am the squashed insect between your fingers,

I am the miserably failed road kill,

Crushed,

Void of smiles,

Void of life,.

I slither in the mud.

My skin is leaving me,

Unshielded as the birds peck at my bloody flesh,

Trodden by the snail crusher,

Weak at the neck,

Hanging from the cliff,

Nailed to my grave,

Trapped inside my hole,

Prisoner to my mind,

Melted into darkness,

Where God is left behind,

Truly alone and abandoned to hell,

There is nothing but gloom,

And death from the well,

So crushed and beguiled,

I cry with my blood,

And then I tear myself up from the ground!

As I fly up again,

The diamond kite,

The electric firework charge, soaring through the starry bleak,

Blazing through the sky again,

Tearing the air asunder as I wail,

I am the reaper’s fiery blade,

Beautiful & crazy,

With a hunger,

For Death,

And Blood.

*

All alone the stars come out,

Creeping from their slumbered lives,

To shine upon the ever spinning Earth,

The sun lies in her compulsory comatose night,

And the moon has Earth as her dancing partner.

They spin together and turn through centuries,

Counting away the seconds, ever watchful,

The sun has lost her lover and the moon has taken his hand,

And so the dance goes on,

For time’s duration.

An everlasting night, cooling darkness descending over all,

A sleepy tree blows back and forth in the night breeze,

The flowers close their glowing eyes and the night paints his song.

Somewhere in the night’s arms she is sleeping,

Calmly floating on an untroubled mind,

Only to wake her diamond eyes and be assaulted by a malignant sun,

She sleeps as does the sun,

Eternally or until darkness fades,

The cool earth of her pillow cushioning her face and the sun in one,

One day the sun will go and the moon shall rain rampant,

One day the Earth shall turn his back on light,

And find his ever loving moon.

One day perhaps.

One day.

My name is Frederic G. Benson, your name is knot. So from this point knot, you and I are bound together if you will, by some artistic force that will not let go of either of us until you finish this book. You’ve read thus far and will have to finish it now or else live for the rest of your life with an unfinished book on your shelf. Uncompleted and exposed and open, just lying there in the cold wind. You have to read it now because there’s a bond between us of sorts. I appreciate you peering into my mind like this, nice to know that someone takes an interest in me. On the other hand, don’t get cocky or above your board. This book is nothing more than a list of words and a list of words at that. You can do as you please with it. You don’t have to finish it. It’ll wash away on you if you do so. Happily run around it in circles and push it through whatever crevice you have in your head that you so dearfully call your head-brain. If dearfully isn’t a word then it bloody well should be! Soon you’ll realise though that I’m nothing special and don’t deserve the keyboard at which I type.

Here at the centre of the earth we fly,

When all’s done and dusted and we need but only die,

The solitude and resonance so we can only try,

To be the ones we want to be and all we wish to cry.

The people above us know not of this place,

Where the Earth slows to a rumble and walks at our pace,

But only in this quiet dark and where the light is gone,

Can we find our honesty and smile for all that’s done.

But in this black and silent place,

We loose our image and loose our face,

And so become the ones we dread,

To find that all our masks are dead.

We cannot be touched,

We cannot be seen,

We have only each other,

And nothing between.

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