A Mind Infinite

Infinity: The Views of a Dreamer

The Mundane






Repetitions of life,

the mundane unescapable

Doomed to repeat,

without the chance of escape

There is no escape






Shining blonde hair of the lady on the train,

her sparkling blue eyes stare back into mine

Is she the same, as I?

Words flow between us,

agreement on a drink arises with the blonde damsel

One drink,

five drinks

Losing count falling into her arms,

her breasts – a delicacy

The opened pear shaped flower, my desire,

fulfilling with giving it my nectar

Gone in the morning,

like the wind blew the damsel away





Everything in life planned out to be,

Exactly the same, day after day

Searching the trains,

looking for the blonde damsel

My obsession,

no longer can I sleep

Not until the damsel of my dreams has been found,

searching and searching

My eyes they grow tired and weary,

how long have I been awake for, two days?

The sandman he calls me away but I resist the urge

no longer will I eat, not until the damsel is found

Nor shall I work,

nor a drink shall pour through my lips

On the paper,

her face shines out to me

A victim of a road accident,

ran down in the night, police are searching for the individuals involved

Midnight, the witching hour,

I embrace the dark hood and clothes to match the night

Blending in like a bat,

stalking the graveyard, over the fence I fly

Shovel in my hand, I tear at the soil

her headstone fills me with joy as I dig

Oh how do I valiantly dig,

until I have reached the bottom, cracking the encasement of the damsel’s body

Her lips, a cold blue,

her skin so pale and purple looking

I carry her in my arms, far away from this place,

far away from the crypts and the graves

Eating with her at the table,

each day telling her my devotion

Washing with her,

the most wonderful fragrances for my love

Before leaving work,

a kiss I will lay on the pale, purple glazed skin of her forehead

Drinking with my lovely princess,

though the drink spills out of her mouth and rolls down her chin

At night, we sleep as one,

she lays still, not even a moan

Imagination runs wild dreaming of her throughout the night,

have I broken the cycle?


2 comments on “The Mundane

  1. Charlie Mann
    March 25, 2014

    Have you been reading Ginsberg?

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This entry was posted on March 24, 2014 by in Poetry and tagged , , , , , .


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