I see her standing deep within
A forest of old, ancient trees
I know her Wisdom is old but true
Sophia, Venus, Ophelia,
She is my muse
She is a light
The past, its bridges,
Rotted out,
Seem so unimportant now
The drums of war have faded,
Faded
The pipes of thieves are unheard
I have forgotten all I held
Those strands of hate wrapped
In my fingers,
All released and freely thrown
So that my open daydream hand
Can grasp her waiting truths
Dream #10
Posted by Prester John Saturday, May 2, 2009 at 11:28 PM
The Wakened Dream
Posted by Prester John at 11:24 PM
At my rusty typewriter
The night is dimmed and dying
I swim through reveries of her
With all my senses flying
Light splashes on her cheek
Her hands could conjure spirits
Her laugh resounds,
Her smile, forgiveness,
Her eyes,
Those eyes!
Serene, so keen,
Sweet summer dreams!
There is short distance between us,
I hold my breath,
I let her know,
Wrapped in the shades of acceptance,
Symmetric joy cascades upon her,
I laugh along,
And set myself,
Bare before her,
Unafraid.
Dream #8
Posted by Prester John Friday, April 24, 2009 at 11:25 PM
You told me what you wanted
When the carpet-bombers rode
I forgot to write it down
And now I'm far too old
What can't be seen is mentioned
What can't be heard is cried
Through tears of crystal daylights
That strangled all my lives
And it would be cute
And maybe trite
If I could hear from you
And know that everything's alright
Your lips were pursed and perched
Upon my anguished curtain call
The prince in rags had borrowed
Everything held in regard
The sleeping giant stumbled
Walking through his dreams
Dancing in the moonlight
And snoring through the screams
And if you could speak
Deep into the night
Just so I can hear from you
And know that everything's alright
The quicksand stands to grasp you
And swallow all your lies
The neon lights of madness
Drag you deep inside
Until you learn the one truth
The horseman has concealed
Speaking tongues all backwards
With his face so unrevealed
As he swings his sword
Thrashing at the light
I just want to hear from you
To know that everything's alright
So the elders of the village
Have hidden all your paths
And threatened to remand you
For some unknown back tax
You can't repeat your verdict
Without the fear of fame
So as you walk in shackles
Your heart bursts into flames
I want you to sing
About your plight
Just so I can hear from you
And know that everything's alright
Dream #7
Posted by Prester John at 11:04 PM
You're looking for a man who knows
How to look you in the eye
And tell you with a smile
That he wants to be with you
And only you
He's looking for a girl who wants
To laugh at all his little jokes
He'd tell her with a smile
That he wants to be with her
Throughout the night
The autumn introduces lust
Braying, building innocence
A chime within the wind
Echoes as you pray to him
In silent gasps
But he is trapped inside the spring
Blades of grass beneath his feet
Wet from the morning's dew
As he flies to build a nest
From strands of straw
Essay Fever
Posted by Prester John Tuesday, April 21, 2009 at 12:08 AM
Symptoms:
-Restlessness
-Lack of self-control
-Loss of attention
-Chronic headaches
-Blurred vision
-Brief amnesia
-Nervousness
-Mild depression
-Irritability
-Recurring hunger
-Drowsiness
Treatment:
-Stimulate nervous system (preferably with caffeine)
-Write for prolonged periods
-Do not mix with alcohol
-Consult a doctorate student if symptoms continue
Dream #6
Posted by Prester John Saturday, April 18, 2009 at 9:27 PM
I know a princess with a crown
Who sits inside her icy tower
She keeps her lips pressed to the glass
Of her frosted window pane
I yearn to hold her in my arms
Her tundra dreams twinkle true
I light my coals and hide myself
Within the dusty notebook page
Ink, my blood, my life, my love
My world is dizzy, blurred, and warm
I seek, I seep with solemn psalms,
I sleep with peaceful, prayerful palms
My feelings dreamed are confessed then
Lit by truth, the distance dies
My beacon, burning, glowing bright
I pray she sees my sacrifice
I know a princess with a frown
Who sits inside her icy tower
She keeps her heart inside a chest
Wooden, lost, and widowed pain
I learned to hold her in my thoughts
Her tundra dreams fading, blue
I stoke the coals and burn my book
For I would give her all I had
If only I could warm her
Dream #5
Posted by Prester John at 9:27 PM
While riding through my forests of youth
I had ne'er a worry nor care
Then all that changed and I learned the truth
As I found a troubled affair
My father, born a smith, forged his heart
Earning his daily bread share
My mother, dead from my very birth,
Had left him in great despair
His love was mended by a new wife
Her spirit could never declare
That I, reminder of his past life,
Would ne'er escape his cold stare