words spill forth,
in a torrential downpour,
drenching the parched mind,
with a deluge of foreign lore
voices rise and fall,
in a cacophony of sound,
jumbling the syntax,
till sense is lost and aimless
colors bleed and blend,
into a psychedelic hue,
letters swirl and dance,
like an iridescent view
phrases spin and twist,
into a dizzying array,
grammar morphs and shapes,
like an amoeba at play
warped time; dream-like state,
the skies above paint a tapestry with vivid verisimilitude,
intoxicate
the people here are a curious breed; from womb to seed,
with mysteries locked in their eyes, mystical dancing,
the unperceived,
underneath the moon man’s amorphous, enchanting guise
a house oozes honey, walls dripping in dewy gold,
a woman who sings to the zephyr’s melody,
and a man who paints with a heart so bold, sometimes broken, arrhythmic nonetheless
flowers hum with the whispers of the breeze,
fruits that sparkle like gemstones in facets,
rivers that ripple with iridescent gleams
bent reality,
with each moment a kaleidoscope of wonder, where the impossible coexists, a world where magic reigns and surrealism’s thunder
heed this warning,
oh traveler brave,
for once you cross the threshold of this realm, you may never find your way back to the mundane, forever lost in a land where enchantment overwhelms
so immerse in the mystical, the enchanting, let your senses succumb to the otherworldly charms,
regenerative
repose
Fred Aiken Writing 