Soul Coma

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

— Malcolm Lowry, Under the Volcano




a foetid light

kept spilling

from the stars

over my head/

virtual relief

sealing the scars

in my mind’s eye




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!




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)









Peter Bies © 2010



4 thoughts on “Soul Coma

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