
Half-Sleep I
Mercurial waters fall upon My lips, I feel the black beckon me To drink like a drowning man And relish each burning gulp Of scuttling air. The watery depths echo Like a world within a world, Boundless and unconquerable, They dare us to attempt to Plant our plastic banners In their fathomless deep. We try and the surface Swells to brush its talons across Our brief bristles of civilisation, To cover us in sweet Dreamless humility. Half-Sleep II I My eyes close And with a silent spell I seek to summon my captors Of salvation. Come And steal me from my immovable Self, come and shape me, melt Me, that I may flow into Better moulds. Come, Priestess of the higher truths, Come, sagely mentor, bearded And robed, come you, band Of post-punk spiritual Subversives, come and take me, Make me whatever wades best Through this world of banality And hardship. II For many years I have warmed My bed to sleep with such harbingers Of disappearance. To vanish Not to hurt nor to worry, to escape Not from people nor from life, But break the bustle that pushes Every ounce of respite, even sickness In its chained hourglass neck. Imagine a release from that Tyranny, which ploughs our bloodstained Growth and claims whatever we may Reap. Imagine an escape from mandated Progress per second. Imagine a retreat Into an unguided, unseen existence; Its playful wandering rewilding The laboured acres of the mind To deliver unto you the kind Of priceless boon no market Could ever hope To sell. Bio:Tuur Verheyde is a twenty-four year old Belgian poet. His work endeavours to capture the weirdness of the 21st century; its globalised art, culture, politics and problems. Tuur’s poetry seeks to further cultural, spiritual, political and emotional connectivity on an international level. His work is personal and outward looking and seeks to accurately represent the blurred boundaries between the real, the surreal and the hyperreal, as well meshing the personal with the political and the spiritual. https://tuurverheyde.com