no waking


struggles with sleeping

to know the unconscious of it

but unable to awake

and all those surrounding give praise

to the ludicrous vacuity

an ocean of banal dreams pouring

into the core of molten furious

but this too another way of dreaming

and clawing at the surface

of the paraleptic depth is the sun shining

through nowhere gates

it is reality and you must face it

the repeated churning of wasteful wraiths

to wait on tiresome pay checks

and never devour

this isn’t ascension nor howl enough

and talk of revolutions and

which one is true is all lacklustre and

banishment to

what feeling feel you feelers? none?

something? a ricochet knife wound from some

fatal cut that dragged upon us

while still in the soup

catalyst the chrysalis and fuck all those books

your Master is a toe-nail clipped

before birth

and it screams inside you that something ignored

the temples all burning and the

gods aren’t at home and the turning of metals

the dying of the past

keep watch for the glimpsing of

talkative words

who announce like grim hanged men or

hexigram plates

a dervish was murdered for spilling his guts

truth is a perversion

in this defunct game

the rules were contortion, the slavers promenade

gentlemen taste this elixir of lies

a jute mill is burning that blackened the eyes

galleons come bustle through phantasmal corridors

open our skulls and remove all the worth

and blood runs like rainfall

through cold shudder hearts who haven’t

learned anything except

apology and desert

and the fabric is choking and the

patterns are lead and the train that would take you

is derailing the bed

come cushion it soft with the tender of sin

fulfil all our ravages so we might not see

and mirrors are harlequin

that cannot return

to the moment of scission to the moment of birth

and it gnaws at the banisters

that prop up the earth and it gnaws at the banisters

that keep us tight to our dearth

evacuation notice is long over due

the terminal remission and an abandoning crew

yet sleep still we sleep and though i claw at

the sheet

the dream cannot end and we can never awake

except to the witnessing

the seeing of this world

that we have built for ourselves out of hate

jailers of ourselves as we deaden the bolt

and domesticate violence

to run through our hearts


4 Responses to “no waking”

  1. you wrote jail, i wrote panopticon…when did you write this as i wrote mine about twenty minutes ago….spooky eh

    • 2 dronemodule

      It is the forefront of my mind. We are all asleep and the best we can hope for is to wake to the fact of our dreaming. A thousand wishes and a thousand dreams. What use is it? There are a billion limits placed on freedom…

  2. Wow..I read both and was impressed by the synegism.

    • 4 dronemodule

      Synergism is business speak. Resonance is depth of souls, even in its cancelling.

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