PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Dying wings, beauty near

Take this savage back home

Near the gates of Midian

Bitter envy doth shear



They call her the gypsie

Some call her grandmother thyme

Rosmary, her sister, the pre-cog

And her brother, Sage, the telepath



I flew on the wings of an eagle

To hear the wisdom of the clairvoyant

A radio beacon that speaks to the dead

I thought her old and reagle



Twisted trees, in the swamp

Lying outside of her door

Anubis guards the graveyard

Of a million souls came before



The sign of the skull was upon this place

Dying to tell you "TURN BACK!"

But bones do not speak, they only gaze

Setting your soul ablaze



So I sat, listening

While gems on the walls, glistening

In the light of the single candle

Melting from the mantle



"In a brave new world

Yes, a brave new world

Like Huxley dreamed, or so it seemed

We will all be mechanical."



"The dead, they tell me of their premonitions

To the depths of their mind, they make my admission

Socrates, Plato, they all knew

Dante, and Huxley, they knew it to!"



"In a brave new world

we will all walk like machines

Born of synthetic contraptions

Making new adaptions"



"Edgar Allan Poe, told me long ago

that the Raven still sits at his chamber door

But he agreed, to my soft-spoken query

As he wept over his long lost Lenore"



"The dead never lie, they can onply speak truth

And they are forever melded to their age or youth

But knowledge and insight is given to them

From the name of the morning star, I dare not speak"



"The hydrogen bomb, will tell a new song

As pillars of smoke form in the sky

I learned of this from Oppenheimer

Before they put out my eyes"



I thought of the horror, mechanical men!

And ALAS, nuclear war?

I sat in her den, and took it all in

This was a story not heard before



"And what of the Rapture?  Your thinking now

The rightous will be taken, in the blink of an eye

His name I dare not mention will come from below

And the Scarlet whore shall surely follow!"



"The number of the beast is allready known

And Armaggedon on hills of Megiddo

The seventh lamb slain, and the book of life

I've spoken to John the revalator"



And she told me of wars and battles ahead

Of Satan, and demons, and the plight of the dead

Of the end of all ages, yet to take place

And the glory of God, and the look on my face



So I left the clairvoyant a shaken man

To this day, I cannot steady my hands

For her revalation, a dying brand

Her stories as numerous as the beaches sand