candyland

[constantine]

lost in the swirling mists
not enough
memory, knowledge, defenses
on your own
without purpose or identity
tiny hands clutch at the bars
as the dark time approaches
shapeless and nameless
no mommy things
creep and lurch
reaching for you, and
the cold moist tears of wordless despair

only our dreams remember
what we're desperate to forget
a night deposit for the memory bank
hot potato red faced memorabilia
made to order for dream noir,
allow me to introduce the house ensemble:
vampire mom smiles lovingly
then attacks like a harpy from hell,
zombie dad could stop her, but he's taking
the remote out for a sleepwalk,
savage siblings flash their pointy teeth
as they drag you into plush carpets of quicksand,
and of course, the return of Big Brother
with his rendition of the transformation scene
from "I Was a Teenage Werewolf"
that's entertainment!
add to this a recurring cast
of closet dwelling deviants:
chinny chin bo-bo, his limbs
like steel saran wrap, under the bed
waiting for my eyes to...
he's on me like a straitjacket
laugh shriek chilling chin digging
into the vertebrae that only
your back scratcher knows for sure,
the scene changes - to the basement
listen... weird dark music from
the stygian depths of eldritch horror
drifts vaporously from the slowly
opening closet door beneath the cellar stairs
you can almost begin to....

Wah-wah sirens!
Strobo flash!!

The Lizard Man - turtle beak and
red vicious fear eating eyes, reptilian
scaly cold rasping metallic hisses
arms undulating, boneless fleshy graspers
octopi fingers writhe, a knotted twitchy mass
tense suddenly, alert
unravelling as if by command
they begin to sway
cobra hypnotic, freezing my will
their talon claw tips open like piano lids,
gasping, terrified, I watch as
wormy little snakeys emerge
jerking spasmodically, evil mouths
piping shrill whistle panic in my mind
heads bobbing back and forth,
in and out of their
throbbing scaly finger sheaths...
Jesus Christ!
abominable damnations from a tar pit dementia
symbols of the sequestered shut-ins
from the shadow caves of
Gumdrop Mountain...
for god sakes man
can someone give me a cigarette?

tell me,
is there no place like home?
the bathroom transgressions
the door knock panic
inexplicable rubber goods
beneath the sink,
back in the dark closet recesses,
candid camera keyhole vistas
mommie's breast - the nipple's
red unblinking stare,
dad's penis
freakishly dwarfing your own
go ahead, run for it
we hide but never escape
the moist, sticky tongue of the lizard
as identity swirls into neurosis
like rocky fudge...
tell me,
would you (how could you?)
love me, if you knew

[stilltrucking]

I remember this one, I need to put the two versions next to each other and see what is different.

I remember this bit from the version you posted earlier this year.

only our dreams remember
what we're desperate to forget;

I remember a nightmare from about sixty years ago. An underground hostpital where little boys were changed into little girls,
I was being carried down through a man hole cover into it. I have heard that all men are latent homosexuals. Some are more fortunate than others and have a choice about it. I have not checked it out but if it is true what the Reverend Rick Warren said I have my first issue with barrack obama.
Oedipus wrecks got nothing on me


pardon the ramble,
I liked the poem the first time I read it, this seems to be another version.
more to it.