el Rey de Burgundia / the King of Burgundy

thinking of his eyes...

almost I've arrived and then...

the slimy wound re-opens

Mid-SummerNight's molten Dreams scatter like tiny terrified children;
embers fly, fizzling fantasy's seams

Burgundy's King moves cruel,  behind;

slithers saintly through halls of every sickened mind,

until the Queen hits the door-slider;

the curtain disappears;

nobody sees King Burgundy's sneers except for all the cruel old Souls,

who lie in wait with sharpened claws

to teach him lessons gleaned in heiroglyphed prison walls;

encrypted fright - directives; blood-stained messages;

the true ruler set forth laws

with earlier eyes...

Dreaming of his eyes again, hie eyes again, his eyes again,

almost I've arrived -

and then...

King Burgundy's sighs fill the Mountains with the pain of all the terrible old Souls;

Dreams scatter like microscopic myopic, faceless eyes;

the lies of flies' eyes in your wine;

the eyes of flies float in your wine cup,

send their poisoned Dreams to snicker up inside your mind,

with every beat of  filthy daggered wings...

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

the Dream -  spiders' scatter-shows

are laws concocted based on lies
petrified notions glimpsed in tiny children's 

NightMares...

they can never quite recall...

King Burgundy knows nothing

King Burgundy knows all

she's Dreaming of his eyes again, his eyes again, his eyes again...

almost she arrives

almost she arrives 

almost she arrives

she never quite arrives

King Burgundy knows nothing

King Burgundy knows all

nobody sees King Burgundy's sneers except for all the old sick Souls

who lie in wait with sharpened claws

cease Dreaming of his eyes again

the lies inside his eyes

again

cease Dreaming

cease...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

be
un
rested
go
under
nothingness
do not stop
your steps
come who may
odious beasts, are these
dream if you so desire, but blame not the Poet
enter at any point you desire {desiredesiredesiredesiredesiresdesiredesiredesiredesire}
i have a feeling you counted
nine
encryptions in this stagnant crypt of motion
drive carefully, but darefully,
realizing all the while
earnest new Souls come dripping
agua mineral de las Montañas
miserly men miserable men miserly men miserable men are not nine, nor two, nor ten, nor nineteen; never -
suffice it to say, we are going under now