Love’s Blazon: Parzifal and the Lady he awoke

 

“The lady had fallen asleep. She wore Love’s blazon–a mouth of translucent red, torment to the hearts of amorous knights. She slept with parted lips that wore the Flames of Love’s hot fire.  Thus lay the loveliest challenge to adventure imaginable.”

‘Upon my word, you are Parzifal!’  She said of the red lips.  ‘Your name means ‘pierce-through-the-heart.’

Sleep Paralysis

A peek of disbelief.

Reach.

Awaking in a white, linen dress.

“Let your feet breath in the water through your soles.” The old man suggests.

I break the liquid’s surface tension with the flat of my feet.

A four footed bath tub foutain with animals.

The water turns and becomes red curls.

And i reawoke.

But it took a minute to trust it was so.

Big left toe: wiggle.

Wiggle now.

You are awake and will wiggle.

Sleep paralysis.

Once gone, is when more civilized monkeys brew tea.

I make a strong pot of blonde

Coffee.

I wiggle the left big toe.

I wiggle the right big toe.

The pot boils.

The aroma cannot be a dream?

Parabolic Paean

There was a poet and his rose, and

A garter stalking both.

And the lady with forgetfulness

Oblivious until remembering the

Tresses of misses: one be model; one be tumbler.

A glass-looking to the star in the west.

A ladder Alice keeps handy.

A’Lateralus

That k/night of the encryption of all those cryptic Coptic scrambles.

Into the apparent innocuous steganography

Duplicitous, serving to conceal and

once concealed, serving hardly anybody

Cryptic.

(Brevity perplexing)

Ambiguity in meaning.

Employing cipher and code. Directory path unrecognized.

Cain and Abel:

Mystified mystics, huh?

Swan, iynx, ibis

Wrynecking at this cockchafer (May) doodlebug.

Khephra, my nighttime sun.

We witness the concluding clause of this instrument,

Writ as an English to Portuguese test.

The translated texts falling under the title of Book

With a keynote of ecstacy.

Marvel that it is just

The Beginning.

Barbarous Barber, oh! god of shears.

Shore them that be certain across their crowns.

Whilst I will show them their tears.

Pulling the tides of moons inside

making oceans bleed from their eyes.

With my lyrical vespers ecstatically heralding a wandering star’s return.

Harken, Venus.

Ariandte howls feral heat

Inviting Dionysus to the feast

Of Two Wandering under the Midnight Sun.

The Aura of Alice: Nikaia.

The model of an acrobat.

Circling tangled loops at the thought of a question as such:

If desire be not love; then what of feeling the desire to love?

Ecstatic coronating of this al-chymical betrothal

Lovers become beloveds.

Missives of purpose with intent embuing metaphysical eternal

While Elemental attendants runner it in a return back

To ward now.

Toward and from. Hither ampersand Thither.

But never former

Vows renewed through every flux of lung-moving breath need not be formally avowed at one big affair.

Mavericks each having Sun and Moon self-contained..

The quarrel of Aura to Artemis thusly resolved

Through electromagnetic absolve.

Twice born Dionysus with his lawful Ariandte resurrected.

The Hypnerotomachia of Poliphilo dreaming. Polia.

The Beautiful Dream of awakening to the mayor’s young daughter.

The dreams of Christian Rosenkreutz. Married indeed.

Are you not unbored? Then let me rub the fur of your fuzzy heart wrong.

The stimulant Irritate.

Irritating you up to

Irate.

I rate this meter, but am not its maid.

I am handmade anew everyday

Because I am dying to wake up and out my sleeping dreams.

Ae’ll not serve you potions of soporific words.

Funny how they seem so meek yet it is they who will rape you in your sleep.

Ae keep you awake to seek ‘the awful lucidity of insomnia’

where you will re-enliven in a world where heroines are no longer satisfied with mere men.

Wanting Pharaohs but no longer remembering

They had once created them with mere mortal men.

These are the blood tears the children of nations will so cry.

Just as Satan has been sleeping the whole time.

The blood of the lamb, replaced with lanolin.

Empurpling petals bloom inside.

As I gather your lips into mine.

Slow swaying to a band playing our saraband.

Gauzy dress of cotton becoming feathers beswanning me.

Ensorcelled by the pitch-black, starless hue of your suit

You wear the night sky.

And I am an unlit day.

It is now high noon for my midnight sun.

Silver corona glowing in plumes

As we change up the tempo. With more tempting teasing.

Humming: how pleasing it is pleasing.

On the Currents of Dreams

Cicero. Fetch him. Will he read to us, aloud, his Dream of Scipio?

Recall the nightmares of Nebuchadnezzar? His hope for Daniel’s talent?

Recall. He refused to heed the warning this soothsayer pulled.

Recall: The king lost his mind, to a strange psychosis lasting seven years, at which he regained reason.


So where are the temples erected to Aesculapius?

And, who also dreams like pharaoh Thutmose IV?

Hormakhu comes and goes now.

New forms. Uncovered the Sphinx.

Perhaps goddess Safekht took Serapis as hers.

The learned ones of the library of magic.

《《》》

So incubate. Sleep. Dream

Learn.

The Egyptians taught.

Hermes & Moses received. Others too?

Encrypted. Pentaeuch.

《》

Everything is already written in the very measurements of the dimensions of the Temple of Soloman; and even Paracelsus, so long ago, already said: The Earth is a magnetic body.

Concerned with patterns of currents’ change, they replaced menhirs with Gothic cathedrals.

< < > >

Receiver-Transmitter.

Transmitter-Receiver.

Power & Directions

Flow & Tensions

Telluric

< >

Exhausting Dreams

I’ve been consistently sweating in my sleep.
Dreams in the same neighborhood as the swaying structures
Only now we are not pedestrians.

Nor roof top runners.


The vans return.
Mass panic.
Drunk, drunk rednecks.
And, disenfranchised swarming points of public services.
No one seems rich.
Or perhaps the rich are unseen.
Alee and safe from our strife.

The previous night, the riots/disaster broke out.
Some truth revealed of which I discovered myself involved in
Through familial inheritance. clandestine.
Unaware until that moment.
Strange feeling of alienation.
Now that I know my involvement, my allegiance, must change.
My family has implicitly caused the suffering of many. With at least a bit of awareness.
<With too much intoxication?>

We leave a keg party in the woods.
A young man, Hunter

I went to high school with this blonde

Son of a politician [in the dream].
We were not friends.
He was in a higher clique, multiple levels.
That said. he was always kind.
I am by far the sober one.
But have the deepest of dread about driving the
Super drunken party.
As in, if we get pulled over by the cops (sic. American cops midst a crisis….DANGEROUS) it is more important for me to ditch the carload and make for this public center. That looks like the Tuscaloosa Library

(ed. note: before ‘tuscaloosa’, it was called Druid City. Point in case, the biggest hospital is known formally as DCH- Druid City Hospital. Quite magical considering the Magic City is only 45 min. NE.)


Hunter offers, kindly yet foolishly to drive us in his huge red truck.
Within two minutes we are clearly going to crash and hit a metal solid post. I think:
1. Hunter’s father has the sway and motive to save his son and the party to the crime. That is if we/they ever make it to trial. Which is questionable. The state of AL is in shoot first question later mode.
2. I will bail from the truck before impact IF impact is inevitable. I have great confidence in my ability to time and gauge this.
3. Amy is the only one in the truck I feel loyal obligation to. I fill with dread. We have not spoken in years, and she feels like dead weight that I am responsible for. And I intuit she may feel the same way about my own prescence.
People begin to reach up and try to snatch the wheel. This is ok by me.

Somehow we avoid crashing.


Amy bails.
I bail.
We freeze

And look at each other. We did not plan to bail together.

We apparently were just similar minded in how to handle the problem.
I indicate with eyes: I’m going my way. Do you want to come or go?
She crosses the road towards me.
Before she finishes, I’ve started running toward my destination.
She cannot keep up.
She arrives later and is pivotal in assisting me help the people my family

tacitly, indirectly, hurt.
(Ed. Note: she loves her family. They have never truly hurt her or even let her down in waking life).

We save the day after a protracted dance of:
She distracts and alludes the vanmen outside through camp.
I evade them inside while finding and sneaking people.
From this multiple story structure that winds horizontally.
It seems to grow ampersand sprawl.

The people often resent my help.
Some refuse it.
An armed faction of the people I’m trying to get outside decide me a hostile enemy.
Complicating my evasive action.
They change forms. An elite force.

At one point, í beat a crow to death, over and over it came at me, with a tennis racquet. When I looked on its lifeless body, felled upon the second step of a staircase, I fill with dread.
I killed it in fear it was a transformed enemy. In retrospect, I cannot be sure that I had not just beaten a confused, agitated bird to deæth. Maybe it was just a bird. Then the whole question stops making sense. I feel confused but on the run. Time, survival.
end: successful but incomplete.


Cut to last night.



Same place, same time.
Only, I embrace the role of driver.
My car.
Interstates flooded with water and cars.0
I dodge and weave impeccably.
But, I feel exhausted and stressed.
Then, I know when/that I should/ to

pull over and rest.

The panic inside me ceases.

The disarray outside continues.


I drive people in and out of the city all night

(I would not describe it as a nightmare. Not even as a bad dream.

Just a tiring, surprisingly self re-affirming dream)

*

I see none involving nengk.

I feel like a chemist when I boil water.

Astood upon three toes.

Oops

now four.

And the sky matches the ground.


He told me we ought to blow it up.

The snow.

Cuz of the moon.

An allotment of the ailment is being carried

By wagonmasters & confronters.

I pay attention to your punctuation.


Sometimes my teeth bend but don’t break in my bad dreams.

Of getting ready for Gertrude’s party

That never happens.

Disproportionate response.


Unreeving.

Receive the rowen.

We worked double overtime.

And looked into your mother’s eyes.

She could not smile then but she does now.

As assiduous as inexorable is

My final defenses are indeafsible.

A prerogative disinclined toward extravagance,

As much as the silver sliver of

The new moon is caustic

And the lurdan lurid.


The succubus and incubus work in tandem.

One pulls rope and the other gathering eggs.

No small surprise they work in sleep’s misty revue.

A dæmon to a dreamed of demon that never derived from the proper diabolical.

A small child born.

A mom and dad.


And suddenly you stroke your chin,

And I miss my train

Of thought again.

Scraps of yellow bits scatter my room

And I sit indian style.

Crossed.

Bow drawn. Arrows all a’quiver.

Quivered and quivering.

Set asleep amongst the Ingessana Hills.

Children recover souls they did not know

They missed.

We are the doctor-diviners with a sleepy second sight.

We dream the dreams the sleepers cannot fathom

Until awakening.

There is no need to fear.

I see none involving nengk.

Hard to describe dream

Time was askew and this manifested in the way I viewed things.

Things moved too slowly. I moved faster than the flow of the world.

Intermittent whiteouts/color bursts of vision only to return and have missed a few scenes.

I was caring for a young boy of about ten. There were no words exchanged.

He looked sallow, yellowish skin from poor nutrition.

Deep set, big dark saucer eyes.

It was an informal, novel arrangement for the short term.

He asked me there for the night?

His mother. His mother was aweful and possibly maleficent.

He lived in a trailer home, that connected to others like an aluminum apartment complex.

One story.

My cat kept plying at doors, as always.

The door to the connecting abode. She kept opening it and running inside.

I kept sneaking inside to retrieve her. Worried I’d get the boy in trouble with his neighbors.

I finally met the daughter girl of the neighbors. She was about 20 years old. Beautiful.

Suddenly, I’m her age too.

We attend school. We are friends, but it is hard and dangerous to have friends in this place, so we are very quiet.

Her home is immaculate and in the Thai decorative style.

Her mother wears very traditional almost ceremonial garb.

The mother watches me and her daughter but says nothing to me.

Never formally acknowledging me, but I feel comforted by this. Welcomed nonetheless.

The mother talks in mutters to her husband in a language, presumeably Thai, that I do not understand.

Those are the only words.

Me and the daughter never speak.

We draw geometric figures on the hardwood floor with chalk.

I notice a discoloration that is dried urine on the floor.

I worry my cat did this.

She writes, “my brother.”

I never meet him.

It stays grey outside, but now it is darker.

I return to the boy.

He and I take off running into the night.

Frenetic, nervous. Running. Like animals nervous before a storm.

We run for hours through meadows in dim moonlight.

Sparse trees here and there.

Everything is an aqua teal green.

You can feel a building electricity.

Like the accumulation of major internal static charges.

The boy stops. Freezes.

I’m running so hard I almost do not notice.

I stop, turn heel, and tear ass to be at his side again.

I make it to his immediate proximity.

The earth tremors. Isolated to the area immediately in front of us.

The earth tears open like a ripple over water.

A slight scar forming.

It is his mother.

Aweful. Pure force and energy. Intuited.

The boy is now catatonic, stood upright behind me.

There is a surge of fear followed by the security of knowing exactly what you are supposed to do.

Even if you have no idea how to do it.

Just do not let the boy touch anything.

The mom comes up from the ground in colors and consistency the like of a nebula and the root structure of an old tree. Explosions in the air like fireworks.

I just watch. The task is easy, if you do not panic.

~

It may snow today.