Somniloquy

This selection of poems deals with dream/nightmare sequences I experienced a couple of years ago. I felt the need to write down what happened in my sleep due to the strange nights happening so often. Sometimes, reality finds itself in a blur.

Series Cancellation

Nocturnal projections don’t possess my eye in singularity
as feature presentations run with preconceived formulae
predicting patterned plot points like Pavlov picking
a puppy to pressure into certain action
upon the tapping of his metronome.

Cycles that taunt me come more schizophrenic
in nature than the average may say.
No grand purpose to gather
but Freud often argued otherwise.

Just last evening,
I dreamt a pair of blondes
came with desire to frame adultery.
One resembled an ex of a friend
lost to the troubles of jealousy.
She mounted me nude as I sat on a bench,
the other prepared her phone
for the flash, but the moment passed.
My flustered hands had grabbed her bare
foot and snapped
her leg right in half.

Switch to my mentor flatly declaring,
You’re not a good poet.
A signal that I lay
in another episode
of the arms of sleep.

 

Somniloquy

Vibrations resonate                 in my dormant                         larynx
a haunting sensation                of sound
while the rest                           of my                                       flesh
strives for                                sleep.
Syllables mashed                     into                                          gibberish
like a casserole                        of thought
fighting for                              independence
from the terrifying                  visions
latent in my                             cranium.
Can it be my                            autopilot                                  mind
stuck in a self-induced            purgatory
screams out                             effortlessly
so someone may                      wake the host                          body
before the                                creatures
who I’ve                                  birthed
while communicating              with
the dark                                   dimension
rip my cage                              apart
and flay me for                       abandoning                             them
every time I open                    my eyes?
Paralysis prevents                    shaking
the apparitions that                 drive me
to                                             speak.

Seeking Salvation in Sleep

I’ve traded      the God           of my Baptist raising
for the Sun                  which wakes me
from trembles                          and quivering trepidation
my nighttime hours     force feed me.
Numb as chemicals                             allow,
librarians within          search files
tucked away    in long                                     forgotten spaces
hoping to                     discover      the face
which has        no more           tears to            weep.

Come forth,                 O Lord of Old
out there          upon the cirrus
or         within                          my mother
who longs        to see   you, too,
if by chance     you do             exist.
Cast aside                    my struggle
and focus        on                     her broken body.
She’s not ready           to vacate
our lives           quite yet.

If I’m              mistaken,
please                                      forgive me
as you have     already done
in scripture                  read in                         repetition.
Humans have                          doubt
with some        of even                        weaker faith.
My mother                  stands strong
even when       You have given
many reasons                           to convert.

Both of us       hold
the notion of               premature death.
Some               blossom                       and      descend
in a      single season.
Two girls                     carry me through
night terrors     and daytime
madness.
Let us              live
so we can                    be there
for              them.

Another distorted                   mirrored image
traverses          the landscape
imagination     creates
while the shell             is on rest.
Praying to You   to solve            my problems
seems selfish               to an extent,
but if               You’re there
somewhere
watching this               unfold,
You put me     in                     my predicament
of suffering                 and numbered days,
and I have       the right
to be pissed                             about it.

Portrait of Christ         on bedside,
cross of            crucifixion
just outside                  the door.
Our house        stands              in belief
as the avatar                of altered states
commits           blasphemy,
torching                       pillars and        hymns
until my mother                       walks again;
until       I can       wake.

 

 

Little Boy Blue

Little boy blue             hiding behind the hamper                   doesn’t want
            you to look                  him in his face.            His eyes
   a bit faded                from decay.     See,       little boy        is blue
                 due      to the effects       of being              held
    for a half   -    hour              under the stinging            water.

Little boy blue             weeps ever long          in pregnant silence
            as we       dance in dreams      filled with every hue
     but blue.     See, I can sense                       the sorrow
            seeping into                 the room                      like a tub
  overfilled       and letting            its contents       run all over.

Little boy blue             left unwanted              by a mother
            suffering              post-partem    or just done
     lost the will                  to protect       her own         from death.
            Who can know?          I am      stuck,        stretched
   out    on my side       of the bed    and      remain    numb.

Little boy blue               continues to cry         through the night
         as newborns               often do      when         hours draw late
and                  feeding                        is on     their     underdeveloped minds.
            See,         I am     the only    night traveler  who can  hear
   the  call    of this ghost     when I whisper and   point toward     the boy.

 

Tim Heerdink

Tim Heerdink is the author of Somniloquy & Trauma in the Knottseau Well, The Human Remains, Red Flag and Other Poems, Razed Monuments, Checking Tickets on Oumaumua, Sailing the Edge of Time, I Hear a Siren’s Call, Ghost Map, A Cacophony of Birds in the House of Dread, and short stories, The Tithing of Man and HEA-VEN2. His poems appear in various journals and anthologies. He is the President of Midwest Writers Guild of Evansville, Indiana.

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Extract from Adamo[1], a novel in progress

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Caroline Bird Surreal-Absurd Sampler