A Return Journey

there
is always
a return journey
to find a souls reason
a
masked voyage
Not lightly undertaken
to the acolytes primeval garden

i
lived on
the Viles bank
at its deformed toothless mouth
in
the City
of the Kingdom
deep in the icy south

allow
a novice
to intrepid traveling
i would seek redemption alone
following
the river 
north to the
Roads mapped by the unbeknown

i
set out
from the City
that had exhausted my existence
to
find the
Fabled primeval garden
Hidden in the fabricated distance

leaving
via the
slum overcrowded quarters
forgotten wrought pearl City gates
i
did encounter
a pious boy
begging relentlessly gospel updates
he
sat on
top of a
lightning thrice struck sign post
that
points you
away from the
protection of the Cities host

he
asked me
politely if I
found what i searched for

my
eyes returned
to the carnivorous
City i’d grown to abhor

There
i’d lodged
many ridiculous years
courting the Cities high acclaim
while
dreaming drunk
in a swaggering strungout hammock
For
My fortune
and deluded fame
Cocooned within the prophets washedout
colorful
Canvass sails
Made by street
Artists who captured life escapes

Instead
my stupor
Had entangled me
in the goddess’ temples fire
blue
Vision erotic
dancing silk drapes

Wicks to my candle heart

I
woke with
burning fever to
Find where the divine once
dwelled
was now
overrun with money
lenders and Merchants trying to
flog
of their
smog soaked blanket
currency to the throne pretender

i
sorrowfully shook
my crowned head
throwing the boy my last
coin
of a
fool’s gold that
contained false promises full of
poisonous
alms for
nourishment’s untold by
The crone’s that once camped
On
The rocks
they used to
build the Kingdoms crumbling City

he
caught the
coin and then
tossed it into the Vile
looking
at me
Aghast with pity
He’d gift to a leper

he
said “no
good sir i
beg for happiness
not gold to braid my
hanging
rope” now
i knew
why he looked
so emaciated holding his rusty
tin
bowl barren
of loose hope
That rattles with unseen pain

i
followed a
path that swung
left into the shrouded mountains
which
in my
youth had been
guarded by the demented monks
of
conformity who
believed that all
creatures had been recreated so
all
had to
pay a toll
to pass through
the flaming dragon wing gates
To
tread the
righteous road by
being dunked head first into
their
well of
blood just-ice water
to reload upon their spine
an
ingrowing hair
of camel from
each beings past spent lives
to
carry the
ingrown poison of
their progenitors into their new
Pure
sweet opium
golden hives abuzz
with bugbear stinging grievances

this
day the
way point seemed
deserted of the impregnators of
hates
as i
walked through the
pillars unheeded by the once
guarded
Dragon wing
gates that now
lay on the ground extinguished

a
naked woman
to my surprise
with a swollen belly hooping
three
golden rings
danced stirringly erotically
towards me exhorting me to
obediently
follow my
Beating heart within
Her womb of rising thought

i
took her
ribbon and she
led me up a ladder
to
where the
air did not
freely stir a beings will
Atop 
the iced
wall monastery where
the monks had generously dwelled
inside
excreting sin
From the fruit
fermenting in their ink Wells

there
outside of
the walls she
wailed to me the song
regarding
the deceiver
who dwelled within

song given she lay motionless

like
a raped
snow angel image
just left carved
by the purple incubus’ weighty
sickle

i took
the songs muse
placing it within a hod
then
i hid the
parasite in a blacksmiths forge
just
after Passingover
Red Rover town that i
crossed
Via a
bridge made of
Sacrificed stone encrusted with frost
to
gain the
other side of
the muddy towns main artery
Known
By the
Inhabitants as the
Undrinkable non cleansing River Vile

A
Mile later
Into the day
i encountered a scarred and
Battered
tin skeleton
digging with his
saber in a salted field.

looking
he said
for his lost
Canvas skin to be revealed.

further
on down
the stained buckled
cobbled together redemption potted road
in
a field
of corn been
harvested before the rain fell
i
came across
a scarecrow made
from a soldiers cadaver pouch
pulling
out the
corn by years
searching for he did say
his
inner skeleton
Made of recycled tin soldiers

i
pointed to
the silhouette digging
in the neighboring salted field
the
scarecrow just
laughed till his
guano congealed tears fell loose
he
picked up
a dead crow
casting it at his neighbor
who
on been
struck dropped his
soiled blunted rust infected saber
then
he fell
forward casting his
Naked shadow across his foe
As
a whip
Lashing scarecrows weathered
back with the gods Greek fire.
the
scarecrow cried
out in frigid
pain through his stoic mask.
Till
Time forced
His weathered hands
back to his fruitless task

i
collected my
knapsack bent back
then whistling tunelessly ahead
so
my feet
would obediently follow
i wondered humorously alone again
down
through a
barren haunted hollow
shadowed by lone rain dogs
that
wander searching
the wilderness aimlessly
for their lost wolf’s scent
that
over generations
has become infertile
Leaving them lost without MANA

I
Walked on
until the road
again ran along the vile
Here
I stopped
At an outpost
of civilisation for needed rest

here
i entered
A rustic tavern

Flapping sign said Opera Mill

Deep
inside a
Fire did blaze
alive with a sorcerer’s song
trapped
in the
Mills hearth cage
his fingers scrawling black hieroglyphs
notes
from a
composed archaic age
onto the scorched planets orbiting
the
Luna howling
phantom singing sage
who reached out through
the
hearths steel
grates trying to
lull me into his nocturnal
underworld
vast estates

Hypnotised within the
fires fever I Became consumed
Within
a game
Searching for the
music’s eternal glass flute flame

i
was carried
from the millers
opera house by the organs
Defiant
Breath of
soul music as
it did flee the sages
crackling
fingers that
reached out of
the house from its angry
inflamed
heart to
envelop the exoskeleton
crushing the imprisoning walls holding
His
Wraith Puppet
Of revenge birthed
To terrorise the Kingdoms land

above
Mad moons
circled like vultures
stretching and tearing red giblets
from
the wraith
as if it
were a corpse
on which gravity’s
darker side could feast upon

scrambling
to my
feet i followed
the fleeing ashen beating music
my
Back knapsack
weighing burdens
as i tried to out
distance
the sound
of a morphism
Form been ritually torn apart

after
many strides
taken i found
myself standing on the Brink

below
a sea
of sick green
drank the river Vile’s water
that
Vomited from
The land into
the green seas churning maw

from
behind a
question as if
answered floated down the vile
annoying
my ears
like a mocking birds caw
i
turned in
anger to see
a bobbing v-bowed raft with
a
sign post
for a mast
heading towards the water fall
its
Grinning captain
the pious boy
from the Kingdoms city gates
begging
Weather updates
While looking foolishly
directly into the storm’s eye
i
ran leaping
from the Brink
To land on the raft
as
the boy
hoisted the sail
made from street artist canvas
colorfully
created on
the sewer paved
streets where dreams  do prevail

i
filled that
sail out like
A strong gale force wind
causing
the raft
to shoot over
the river vile’s vomiting fall
into
the distant
settling pale brine
That reflected the clouds above

when
i’d finally
untangled myself from
the canvass sail and rigging
The
Waifs ark
was all mine
The pious lost at sea

i
knelt naked
before the mast
the waves flaying my back
eroding
the Kingdoms
Waste and Clay gift away
i
wiped the
salty brine from
my beard covered chapped lips
with
the hairy
Back of an
Omnipresent Offending hand of MIME

the
canvas hung
limp like an
empty wine skin
savior from the main mast
to
whom i
spoke blasphemous blessings
of gibberish fasting prayers in
the
High hope
the canvas might
keep the dragons at bay
that
Had risen
From the drowned
primeval gardens arks sunken graveyard
To
Swim through
the restless sea
As dark clouds hunting prey

i
crossed the
flooded primeval garden
where bleeding mountains lay drowning
in
eon’s of
Waste sent from
the eternal Kingdoms city sewer
till
growing out
of the straining
Rising light in the distance
a
dark smudge
became a Castaways
civilized cyst of puss weeping
rugged
walls of
the City i
had shed like a skin

the
mouth of
the river Vile
welcomed me with its wide
toothless
salivating mouth
as its prodigal
morsel returned empty to the
carnivorous
Kingdoms City
From which innocence
Consumes itself within temptations cocoon

further
On up
the river Vile
the raft came to rest
on
the Brinks
lower south bank
like a pilgrim i stepped
ashore
to feel
sins vibrations chattering
my bones with junkie delirium

wrapped
in my
canvas sail skin
i walked my path carrying
on
my shoulder
the lightning thrice
struck sign post I was fated
to
return to
the right side
of the misleading
cobbled road that led to
the
Kingdoms City
And to the
unbeknownst mapped north cobbled roads

my
Boney arms
stretched indifferently in
both directions that led nowhere
The
post became
my body’s spine
erected to scare away the
pious
boy who
would pass by
heading towards the
Kingdoms slum city pearly gates
Open
For business
to all infections

© bg 2012

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50 thoughts on “A Return Journey

  1. As promised, a part of THAT novel, how Autumn found Winter, goes live on my blog on Thursday just for you. It’s alternative title, she who survived the Fall, I am only sharing that here. It is a part of THAT novel, after all.

    Monday’s post about Amos is related by easily connectable dots, if you have time to glance at that too.

    If Thursdays are mine, than Fridays are yours. I can’t wait to hear the next tune you devise for us…my dancing feet are impatiently tapping.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. my
    Boney arms
    stretched indifferently in
    both directions that led nowhere
    The
    post became
    my body’s spine
    erected to scare away the
    pious
    boy who
    would pass by
    heading towards the
    Kingdoms slum city pearly gates
    Open
    For business
    to all infections

    This stood out to me profoundly. As a prodigal returned in this life I bear the burden of a cautionary tale – like the spine erected to scare away the pious boy. Been there, done that. Would you like to read THAT novel? lol

    But (and this will give you a clue where I will dance with this piece), my old man is dead (well, I mean, mine definitely is NOT a man, but you get the picture). Let him hang there. My new man (of the female variety, lol) is now free to run and dance and play.

    So, let the world mock the old bones. I care not. There is a body given to me, and I will dance!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. bg, on first reading, I am struck by depth and the texture of this piece. For me, that means I need to spend time unfolding it and playing with it (yes, I’m like a child and words are my toys…laugh if you want, just keep the bullies out of the playground).

    Your ability to interweave so many layers of thread into a single, poetic garment is extraordinary. It’s brilliant.

    So now, I am going to play with it…(I wish you had a q&a)

    Liked by 1 person

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