Soul Coma

“Have you not passed through the river? In the name of God be dead.”

— Malcolm Lowry, Under the Volcano

 

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a foetid light

kept spilling

from the stars

over my head/

virtual relief

sealing the scars

in my mind’s eye

 

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And the Mad Poet cried:

 

Schizoid alien orphan –

 

merging with your mind,

 

sub-space unfolds –

 

crowded by souls

 

who never saw

 

the light of day 

 

for eons on end!

 

O wretched souls!

 

You’d be embraced

 

by soothing pain

 

if you in turn

 

were to embrace

 

the future pangs

 

of raging regret –

 

a tidal wave

 

of darkness!

 

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brainscape ghost town/

psychotropic drift!

& I was hit by the coy,

cloying smell of damp,

encroaching angst/

fermenting at the edge

of my awareness – – – /

(malling plastic time

voodoo mask belies

continuum of action:

grey mirror

black bridge 

shallow canals)

 

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***

Peter Bies © 2010

***

 

4 thoughts on “Soul Coma

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