Post by anirbas on Apr 13, 2008 18:41:04 GMT -6
In dreamtime, rivers run in rainbow colors...
Endings are always beginnings are always endings
are always beginnings are always endings...
In dreamtime, time isn't linear or rounded...
It's coiled and spiraled...
Bent and crooked
as a meandering,
cosmological
tubular
intestine...
In dreamtime, she found herself garbed in the
flumery of a hareem girl. Dancing, undulating
for the pleasure and satisfaction,
of a faceless man, she couldn't see...
All she could see of him...
Was a golden placard,
hung round his proud neck,
on a heavy gold chain, stating,
odd or not, the words...
Sir Galahad...
Adorned and tarted up, she found herself,
for him; with golden bracelets of clinking coins,
about her ankles; equally golden bangles,
clinking about her wrists;
her verted orbiters,
rimmed in kohl...
Then whisk...whisk...whisk...
Quick as a wink. Quick as a blink.
Quick as a fox, stealing lox...
One minute, she was a dancing girl;
surrounded by diaphonously
flapping, tented walls;
dates, goats, palm trees;
and loudly snorting,
odiously spitting camels...
Then whisk..whisk...whisk...
Time spiraled on rivered rainbows,
and she found herself, at another
point and place in time...Yet,
another forgotten age...
Laid at the overflowing table,
of a fertile imagination...
And she found herself,
enscounced within the ivory
stoned walls of a castle...
Rich, jewel toned tapestries
accented with thread, woven
of precious gold and silver;
unfurled and hanging,
everywhere...
Torches lining the walls,
in strategic places;
and cream colored
candles of tallow,
lit the great halls.
A magnificent fire
blazed and crackled,
in a deep hearth;
beneath a heavy,
oak hewn mantle.
No longer did the scent of myrhh and incense,
drift cloyingly up her delicate, but noble, probiscus.
No longer did she dance, in the seductive get up,
of a hareemized concubinic trollop...
In this dreamtime now, she was wardrobed in a
simple, but classical gown of silver kissed,
olive hued and shaded silk...
Silk imported at a great price from the far Orient...
To adorn and accentuate the frame, of a brave
knight's love interest; or the petted and vetted
mistress of a high or low born king of the past...
Suddenly, a disembodied, female child's voice,
seemed to reverberate, about the castle's
great hall! Bouncing echoes,
here, there, everywhere!
Rumpling and wrinkling,
the rivering rainbow
fabricing of dreamtime...
"MOMMIE! MOMMIE! Wake up! There's a spider
crawling on the bathroom floor! MOMMIE!
I need you to wake up and come kill it, for me!
It's freaky looking! It's scaring me!"
And so that is exactly what the dreamer did.
Did as she was bid, when one's
precious duty calls...
She woke up...
In dreamtime, rivers run in rainbow colors...
Endings are always beginnings are always endings
are always beginnings are always endings...
Endings are always beginnings are always endings
are always beginnings are always endings...
In dreamtime, time isn't linear or rounded...
It's coiled and spiraled...
Bent and crooked
as a meandering,
cosmological
tubular
intestine...
In dreamtime, she found herself garbed in the
flumery of a hareem girl. Dancing, undulating
for the pleasure and satisfaction,
of a faceless man, she couldn't see...
All she could see of him...
Was a golden placard,
hung round his proud neck,
on a heavy gold chain, stating,
odd or not, the words...
Sir Galahad...
Adorned and tarted up, she found herself,
for him; with golden bracelets of clinking coins,
about her ankles; equally golden bangles,
clinking about her wrists;
her verted orbiters,
rimmed in kohl...
Then whisk...whisk...whisk...
Quick as a wink. Quick as a blink.
Quick as a fox, stealing lox...
One minute, she was a dancing girl;
surrounded by diaphonously
flapping, tented walls;
dates, goats, palm trees;
and loudly snorting,
odiously spitting camels...
Then whisk..whisk...whisk...
Time spiraled on rivered rainbows,
and she found herself, at another
point and place in time...Yet,
another forgotten age...
Laid at the overflowing table,
of a fertile imagination...
And she found herself,
enscounced within the ivory
stoned walls of a castle...
Rich, jewel toned tapestries
accented with thread, woven
of precious gold and silver;
unfurled and hanging,
everywhere...
Torches lining the walls,
in strategic places;
and cream colored
candles of tallow,
lit the great halls.
A magnificent fire
blazed and crackled,
in a deep hearth;
beneath a heavy,
oak hewn mantle.
No longer did the scent of myrhh and incense,
drift cloyingly up her delicate, but noble, probiscus.
No longer did she dance, in the seductive get up,
of a hareemized concubinic trollop...
In this dreamtime now, she was wardrobed in a
simple, but classical gown of silver kissed,
olive hued and shaded silk...
Silk imported at a great price from the far Orient...
To adorn and accentuate the frame, of a brave
knight's love interest; or the petted and vetted
mistress of a high or low born king of the past...
Suddenly, a disembodied, female child's voice,
seemed to reverberate, about the castle's
great hall! Bouncing echoes,
here, there, everywhere!
Rumpling and wrinkling,
the rivering rainbow
fabricing of dreamtime...
"MOMMIE! MOMMIE! Wake up! There's a spider
crawling on the bathroom floor! MOMMIE!
I need you to wake up and come kill it, for me!
It's freaky looking! It's scaring me!"
And so that is exactly what the dreamer did.
Did as she was bid, when one's
precious duty calls...
She woke up...
In dreamtime, rivers run in rainbow colors...
Endings are always beginnings are always endings
are always beginnings are always endings...
