[a dream song]


all i want is to find sincerity.
in dreams we'd caught our mind a moment
brazen and vivid and still unawares.

(elizabeth is driving on empty)

broken off idols, wood and soapstoney
garbargained embarrassed, or bantik mantauber
child, you must listen, carved of the lore begone
battered baritones held the bowl aloft and intoned
an austere synopsis of grob throbrine elizabeth:

she is made of molasses and gasoline
and i will divebomb in like a flaming moth.
i found her suspended in a chilly hell headache
caught frozen in amber and speaking in tongues
and scuttled across the floors of silent circe speaks as
oua iektou e ahksit, el azzi ilk rimes nob, introibo ad altare dei
i will rip out your liver with my teeth and sneeze out the screams

i prayed to god for patience and fortitude: to rain down a manna
of providence, resistance—free sugar cookies or tiramisu
picked you out of a pond drowning agonies of amethyst
petals on a wet black crown for elizabeth

On that fateful night, Elizabeth swerved left of center
And died.
(No one quite knew why, visibility wasn't that poor.)
Of the car, twisted metal and shattered shards of weather.
Her mind we speculate spinning or something like fear.
They say that her heart could have grown three sizes that winter,
But she sailed down to hell without flesh now unfettered.

i see you because you're everpresent
you are a virus for colonies of cancerous capricorns
saturnine skulls dripping with vinegar and honey
in a constant state of flux and growth
and you're copulating like cockroaches for dear survival
you petitioned to heaven with a tithed holy wafer
but athena was studying abroad in september
elizabeth, listen to me i'm trying to speak clearly
with a fistfull of teethtongue palatoalveolar articulators
i will place them together cause i want you to hear this:
Within washed bleached out supermarkets, sterile and drained of
Blood and toxins, carcinogens and antioxidants, (now holy and halal)
We must walk with the vibrant. We have the utmost and highest responsibility
To reconnect and be affected by the real and vivid and find our minds and pursue our
Words and to record these dreams studiously each and every morning so we can
Help to remember the cries of the subconscious. That each and every one of them
Would stand on the towertops and sprout from the clay
Like stalwart saplings, neither particle nor wave.


Elizabeth is a licentious harlot
She is drunk on power and coked up to her eyes.
Having achieved a degree of technical mastery early on,
We can clearly see a sharp decline in her powers.

I honestly doubt she can live up to her own legend.

Having fallen out of favor with the critics and public
(Even her own following) Elizabeth had nothing to turn to but delusion.
She is a nervous wreck. Shivering and in fevers.
She's really phoning it in today, and is she even doing anything?
Don't believe the hype. I started doing Elizabeth before it was cool.
It doesn't really matter what your name is or who you could be,
She hasn't really contributed anything new.
On the whole, Elizabeth is disappointingly derivative.


all i want is to hear her voice.
i just know that then it would all be okay,
everything else is just white noise.

I think she needs to learn to take responsibility for her actions.
I'm not going to be able to take care of her anymore,
She's weighing me down, like she's suffocating me by existing.
Look at yourself, how can you stand to look at yourself in the morning?
I think we're going to have to pull the plug on Elizabeth,
Because that's no way to live. No, it's not a question of responsibility
For the living, you call that living? She has a pulse and that's where it ends.
She can't hear us, she can't hear you, there is no goddamn light on inside!
Elizabeth has been a rotting corpse for years.

on that third night the stars align
the birds and the beasts can feel the chill
for tonight elizabeth shall rise
the moon hung heavy, its light soaked the earth
as it churned and it simmered to wait for the word

(elizabeth is lost at sea)

we are stumble tumbling down from the sky
droplets condensed without will or direction
there has never been any choice but to yield to the wind
and there never will be, all attempts otherwise are but futility
because everything you have ever believed about yourself has sunk into night.
i am violet past prime and just riding out the waves
in faith that i can find my way home someday

12/30/2006

Author's Note: a dream sequence with varying states of consciousness throughout

Posted on 12/30/2006
Copyright © 2010 Rajeev Rajendran