Echoes From My Dreams.......

I speak, verbatim, from conversations in my dreams,
I speak!... And let the faint hearted rejoice to the resounding of trumpets decoding the unraveling of feet that deemed,
The heavens, worthy of a place to see, because these soles mark your deeds,
Away from the presence of fiends

But its like finding your escapism in psychedelic feudalism
Fettered and caged in our minds, where they speak in numbers and symbolism
What is the cradle of creed and realism? As the t.v entertains false exorcisms
It's no wonder I hear these echoes from my dreams,
Dry throats mark the season for fornication orgasms
And surgery is just titivated plastic on an empty face, that bends the truth from fake smiles and spasms

YOUR(God) portrait is defaced and distorted as my heart witnesses a spirit in disarray
Distraught, I ponder if I could dissect her mental vision, as my mind re-collects the gruesome details of yesterday
My iconoclastic eye saw her beauty dissipate, as her private parts were relabeled 'Piece of Cake'...
With her new face she wanted to face the world, far from her train of thought was the embrace that would erase her

Now that to her the Word of God had become indecipherable, as her thoughts became congested
Obliterated identity, cause after her death, to the world she never existed...

By Vuyisile Koahela " Thelonious Monk"    ( South Africa )