THE END OF DREAMS

ALEXANDER STAMP

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Copyright Page

[The End of Dreams]

Author: [©Alexander Stamp]

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

 

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTSI'd like to acknowledge the artist responsible for the imagery present in this text, my mother, which I believe should enhance the reader's experience. I would also like to thank the team at my self-publishing company for their support and guidance in publishing my first book, it is no mean feat to turn a simple collection of works into something tangible.

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DEDICATIONI dedicate this book to my parents, who have always been extremely supportive of my many and varied interests. They have taught me the value of words, and I will always be grateful for that.

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FOREWORD

This poetry book is divided into three sections, divided by common themes. Any similarities to real or imagined characters, people or places are completely coincidental; it should be noted the poetry is relatively adult in nature.

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PERSONAL

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A STRANGE PARADISE

An expedition to the wild coast,Where earth, sea, sky and all mediums of Mother Nature meet,Where the pounding surf mixes the hill rocks like an enthusiastic tumble dryer.It is a primeval place, with towering cliffs greater than man’s creations,Yet still it is subject to the all-powerful master of time, Those great rocks will eventually become sand for the tourists of some unimaginable future.

I look up and up and up some more to the very top of the dark behemoth,Where hardy inexhaustible life still clings, I move closer, feeling the rough beauty of the quarry face. Above me looms one of the smaller terraces, it’s steep surface seeming like a giant’s step. What will the people of the future think of this scene? Will they be primitive and see them as a wondrous creation of their God or Will they be so advanced that such a majestic scene as this does not garner a mote of their attention?

I do not know the answers to these questions, no one person can predict the flow of tomorrow’s events, but I

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do know that I will never forget my journey to that strange paradise.

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BAY OF PASSION

Sun streams down upon the shifting sands Seemingly solid in my lined hands. My ugly feet light up my brain With heat-related pain.

Solid stone tents the bay against the sky With its burning sun high. Cool waters roar below; The surf is my implacable, merciless foe.

I launch myself in after my friends, My body soon wracked with twists and bends. The hypnotic power of the waves Makes us all slaves.

Except maybe the woman beside me, Burnished hair waving towards the sea. We have only had these few luscious seconds togetherBut forget you? Never.

Give me back my heart I try to say, But my voice is too fey. My command is to travel, And it makes my mind unravel At this cruel turn of fate Which makes my heart fluctuate to hate.

The waves wash my body clear of dirt, But ever remains the hurt. She is different from other ladies And love for her has destined me for Hades.

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Unchain my mind And leave love behind I cannot. Here to stay is the rot.

I have only been once But nonetheless it rests firm in my nonce. Bay of unbridled passion Never let thee be sacrificed to unkind fashion.

CHINA DOLL IN ROUGE

Red hair streaming languidly downHer expertise is in defeating the causes of a frown

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By amusement and laughter at allThe wonderful things of her early life, like a great 20's ball.

Her face is so white, I appear as a MoorAs around my sanctum we tour.Why tigers she chortles amusedly?Because, I glower reservedly.

I know there's more, In pixy-sized store,For on some subjects the little china doll has a broken face, like a certain ocean liner.

I wish the best for her, I hope her cardiac systemIsn't as ugly as mine; a worn-out cistern.She is my ghostly ethical guide, her touchA gentle nightly tiller clutch.

STARRY SYDNEY NIGHTS

That warm fire spreads over my Oesophagus and throat. That sweet lie of happiness returns to comfort and buoy This ocean's bath toy.

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My heart is beating like a steel press,Burning red sparks sliding down my less sensitive synapses as society's stimulant of choicemakes my lizard brain free to rejoice.

I'm a passenger in my wrecking ball body,Swinging from every sign as lights gaudyExtend beyond into an infinite monstrosity;Like Arcturus at superluminal velocity.

I'm laughing now, my friends raise a collective eyebrowBut avoid the critical inflection that will lead to a row.Why am I so inappropriately amused?Why am I not instead bemused?

That will come later, As I remember chances and choices that made me a traitorTo life's lofty goalsLibidinous evenings like tonight, where after I rake myself over the coals.

Nihilism and self destruction, the most human and perverseReverse; Upon the great hairless apeWith an endless and varied shape.

We are at the bar now. I digress.

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MADNESS

Have youEver had aMoment when your perfectPicture of reality smeared bySlyly.

NormalOr at least

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I thought I was closeto it. I thought the flying door wasopen.

But noIt's shut and I don't know why, I justDon't know why at all. I'm colour blind.Maybe.

That is whatThe arrogantNurse waving the bookOf obscure patterns said; wavingHer book.

I canSee all shadesAll colours. Red, blue, etc.But I cannot see these simple littleNumbers.

I thinkThere's some littlecerebral disconnect here.But if I can't see the visual reality...What is?

What is it that I am seeing?

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WE ARE ALL CYBORGS NOW

We are two thingsUnited by silvered key ringsPetroleum fire burning, ragingNo paging

No texting for us the vehicular cybermenNo cylinders of tenBut still powerful screaming is emitted,The sonic landscape refitted.

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Two creatures hybridized into one perfect versionMetal and flesh avowing their normal aversion.We're here to rock your organic worldThe spoiler already unfurled.

The sweet loss of controlIn a 4-g turn when you hit a grasping pothole.The sports suspension lets you feel it in your bones and through your lead footed heel.

Slowly the everyday distractionsSlip away. Now it's only reactions;Electro-chemical impulses turn the power steeringWith an accompany crescendo of rough gearing.

Come slipstreamwith us and you'll see it is the creamOf life. A fine balance of joyand terror; You'll put down the soy.

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GREEN FIELDS

In a gentle wispy grassed valleyLies a house.

A house, home to the mariner clan.Separated from the wild oceansThey turn their hand to the growthOf new life, verdant and flourishing.

But among the young the siren seaHolds strong, bathing their dreams.And all are watched by silent sentinels.Tall and endless in number, evokingdarker times in lands far away.

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But a home still it is,A green tinged mental rockFor the nomad family,At last come to rest in this new world

DECLINE OF THE WEST

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THE END IS THE BEGINNINGA peaceful day in the desert.Little stirs in the heatBut the work men,Busy with their metal constructThat towers above even the proud cactus.They finish their tasks and retire.A pregnant silence fills the air.

Then the command is givenElectrical orders fire in man and machineThe last second of peace passesLittle ripples of explosive energy ripple through the towerForeshadowing the reaction to come.

A mighty hand crushes the interior of the object

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Then the shell disappears Seething, roiling tongues of fire Lash out at the world

The men stumble From their sleepTheir ears stream with bloodIn the distance a new sun is born.

HOPE/CHANGESunlight streams down from the skiesWhile her cooling body attracts the fliesHungry for the dark flesh of forgotten tribesCrushed for the interest of corporate bribes

The boys in blueSworn to uphold their duty to me and youPoisoning and beating the unwashed rastasAutonomous slaves to hidden masters

The fall of a united European dreamWhilst hydrocarbons poison our backyard streamFinancial ruin poisoning the hope of generationsWhilst lies are told to the people and their nations.

Carbon dioxideand Dihydrogen monoxideCall down the goddess of warming loveGreat Venus, from the skies above.

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Where is hope? Where is change?

PEACE IS NEVER COMINGWith bare feet moving wildly beneath himA dull bronze second skin weighing heavilyTurning his body swiftly, sore sinew stretching.The spear glints fiercely as it fliesA projectile with a destiny of death for the man it strikes. Dropping him to the rosy dirt, heavy with the still forms Of the defeated Persians.

A man of God, his virtue a strong sword arm,A strategist’s mind and a stead that would ride to the Banks of the Styx. The ring of a heathen’s treacherous bladeStrikes his metalled chest. It may jolt his physicalForm but his mind is not restricted so. The swing of theBlade and a murderous Deus Vult continues the massacre.

The heady reek of black powder, the headyScent of death tortures his nose. A steaming stump

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Of an arm lazily sails through the air. Not striking himJust sickening. With rifle raised he shoots his khaki Brother yards away. Across the plains of the threeColoured land, men pay dearly for freedom.

The huddled mass of the city appears as the Droning shapes pass through a Cloud. A fat egg Drops from one’s belly, falling. The last second of peace Passes, and abrupt annihilation commences. The sun has been summoned here to earth for the briefest moment.Charred meat litters the flattenedStreets. Is this an end to the cycle, have men wrought tooPowerful a tool?

The river of time holds many a thing, but Peace? Can theBloody tapestry of man be overcome?

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DELIVER US FROM OURSELVESHe lies against the cool face of the summit,Chains imprisoning his mind and shell.

No longer can he forge mankind’s destiny in the lab.A vengeful god has thrown up a tower to the sunAnd on its vacuum-piercing peak hard radiation stabs into him,Like so long ago an eagle’s beak did.

All resulting from a simple giftThat of fire for mankind,

Fire that will not be quenched by water or anything.Energy straining at the fabric of the universe,Enough to boil the fertile oceans or maybeTo send mankind to the stars and forge new worldsIn His Image.

It is the final defeat of the Malthusians,The watermelon traitors of the cawing green movement.In victory he suffers, to allow the endless expansion

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of our sins. The high minded will fly across the void, we will leave the flagellation of the mad behind.

The destiny of the sky-born is secure.

FIREFLIESLife seems to be Running out of control Ahead one cannot see And it takes a vital toll

A mad broken earth That only makes sense when Blind drunk in your berth There exists no past or future tense

A biological locomotive blindly crashing Headlong into another Dreams, hopes, rationality smashing Is all that can be seen brother

This is called progress Aiding all the teeming multitudes of mankind But I must confess It leaves me mentally behind

I yearn for a happy tranquility But I will never have this It is beyond my ability Something in my soul is amiss

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But tragically humans are not fireflies Burning only for the briefest second Then spirits passing away into far skies A better pace is what should be reckoned.

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WE ARE THE RICHI see your insane drunken photos on Facebook,While Israel is deployed as a insidious rookAlly and puppeteer to the WestGobbling up all the petrodollars from the rest.

Laughing gaily while Afghan children screamBut it's A-okay we're on democracies team.Rare earth metals, what are those?$1 trillion, opium laden bills in nice neat rows.

99 PercentIs fiction, truth bentOn the larded, golden anvil of consumers;Honeyed lies like tumours.

I'm not saying your apocalyptic nihilism is wrongBut let's sensibly come along;In the land of the truth deniers,The principled are tarred and feathered, as liars.

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MIND WEAPONRYThe masses pray greedily at the ruins of Babylon, covering themselves in the golden fabrics of the recently dead. All the while applauding their own virtues.

Apples, no longer a fruit, but the physical manifestation of the yellow man's will and life. Every apple, a dead Chinamen, their essence sacrificed to the corporate gods.

Who needs gods when our overlords give us alethargic heaven, while by accident of birth others rot in polluted hell. Even the water burns. How can traditional spirituality stand against this reordering of reality? It cannot.

So we float higher and higher on the mad delirium of nihilism, never questioning. Laugh at it? I'd rather scream.And I often do, who cares about societal constraints,When society is a neural punishment sphere?

Zap zap zap! Comply!You think this is left wing? Amusing....You fool.There is no left or right in the dark.Only a scrambling for half observed shapes.

The ideologies of victimhood are a comfortable part of this false paradigm to. 'All public space is male space'

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You deride me in a screedish polemic.You crawling little worm....

Be proud of your heritage, be proud of your genderGive thanks to your eldersAtomization only succeeds if you let it.Feminism/green/conservative/liberal/prolife/modernism/realpolitik/white nationalism/Islam/scienceAre all wrong.

Synthesize your mind weapon reality.

I HAVE A DARK DREAM

In my darkest dreams I rule you.I've invented something fierceI call it

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Reteknatism, a fitFor our fruitless struggles, bitBy bitIt will pierceYour trembling lizard brain, gradually turning to stew.

What will it bring?An end to corporate power.The glorious purpose you have beenseeking all your desperate life. The leanpower of private enterprise seenMelded with government like an intricate bower.The last cry of the West, Deus Vult you must sing.

Last? I jestI meant endless.The information age leveraged ontoThe corrupt parasite classes, a bullet throughTheir gaping maws. Who are they? Who?Lawyers and bureaucrats. The forever friendless.Now we will be ruled by the best.

We will be the engine of the world.Resources streaming Down from the endless stars.Propelling our ever sustainable bazaars,Closing the dreadful mining scars.The sunlight is beaming,As our starships are giant hurled.

Will you join us?Will you end your dreamless sleep?

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IN THE END, DOES IT MATTER?It sometimes seems that manAnd his fumbling activitiesAre just a messy approximation, no more thanA mere shade of the azure threatening skies.

We are a jewel among the local clusterAwash with self replicating beauty, but blusterand national leaders serious and leaden

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Flirt with poisonous multi-formed Armageddon

But against the cosmos they are an atomTiny, below a 100 percent confidence intervalAn irrelevant tiny datumFor terrors abound in the endless night, unbound and infernal.

No need for fictional abominationsLike dread Shoggoth,For the heaven gazers´ ruminationsReveal things that would make you swear many an oath.

Rogue planets spinning in the void,Giant lifeless missiles we cannot hope to avoid,And gamma rays bursting from furious titans.Blindly sterilising, it certainly frightens.

And ever closer comes dread Andromeda, we are doomed.

AUSTRALIA

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SANDSTONE CASTLESStudy down underIs a rort.These sandstone castle are mere Ponzi schemes.Who would have thought?That gender studies degree you boughtWon't save you in bankruptcy court.

We push internationals through,Never examining our quality of education.Kaching Kaching.We're blinded by monetary temptation.

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Ring them up, charge the compulsory donation.Hurry up, get to your graduation.

Studying commerce?You'll get a job for sure.Oh wait, we were jesting.That was just a glistening lureTo the naive and railroad followers. No definite cure.Your future is not secure.

So when people ask that blind question,about my future. My answer is vapour.Why? Why do I challenge the matrix?Because all the prestige is like this paperThin and cheap, and what I've learnt in this caper?That I'm no slick, no Don Draper.

DONATIONSA strong wind blows the dying leaves Across the concreted path, while my heart gently heavesIn light endorphinal expectation.A good deed done and its accompanying gratification.

The red lettered Christian tiethersAre pleased to see us, their donation grabbing beavers.I jest.Their motives are good hearted, the very best.

That cannot necessarily be said of the other men

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A faint stench of resume building leaks out from their ambitions, a little mouldy distractionfrom the charitable action.

We proceed down amongst the heaped suburbs.Tiny tenements of Victorian vanities, blurbs of families' lives streaming through our vision;A parade of social collision.

Things progress well enoughOur patter is at first a little roughBut gradually we connect to our target marketLike a steadily tipping mercury switch in an electric circuit.

One man blares futile rage at the supposed religion peddlersThe hypocritical god bothering meddlers.That we seem to be. His pitbull strains As if it wants to devour our fleshy little brains.

Can't he see that we've only come to sell a product?We call it middle class guilt reduction pills, a cure for your imaginary social construct.He's blind to that though, his anger a deadening blindfold.So we leave; charity doesn't drive us to acts this bold......

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CROWDED CITIES, EMPTY COUNTRYThey say we have a straining patchworkEconomy, with mining Captain KirkAt warp 10 and everyone else lagging behind.But take a step back and rewind.

What we really have? Empty spacesWith occasional cities showing their faces.Like concrete grey sampling functions, spreadGreat apart by deserts blooming red.

The sampling functions distort Wider through limited atmospheric bandwidth. If you've bought

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An abode here you are packed everdenser into an unloving termite mound, compacted closer forever.

Can you feel the sick graspingFeelers brushing past your carapace? The raspingOn your thickened hide of social convention?Maybe that's a civilised conceit we shouldn't mention.

However, your arachnid counterparts thrive in this target richEnvironment, like a great eight legged lich.But they've always prospered in this vast land.Especially in the verdant temperate band.

They are glass cannon though, cracking with a sharp sound.Much like the fetid timber I climbed aroundIn a silent New Welsh forest, with biting thorns.I was visiting sleek black death to nature's unborns.

Can you hear the crows circle silently?While my ears ring and ring, oh so very violently.We're all searching for something, maybe it's a soul.But it's difficult to find in this muddy urban hole.

Maybe for my sanity I should go to the empty western deserts, a decampAt least it won't be such a cloying damp.

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COAL WILL ENDI can see the dark clock of carbon coal running low, the lights dimming and death filling the great cities of this southern landEndless and open.

But there is hope now in the end of history, the golden rays of god streaming from the infinite skiesImmolating microwave fire equalizing the earth's rotation, bringing motive force to the crawling populace

Why do you need fire? What if Prometheus had asked that? And I can tell you this.... I need not fire for my heart burns,And me with it.

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Endless and forever. But most require some external energy injection.

You question why I close my arms to your dearest affections. And this is the answer, I love you too much to throw my personal napalm on your beauty.Mes apologies, we've digressed from solar energie.

Fracking is a short term gorgeous lieTo the combustion empire. Red, white and blue.Two trillion barrels? When compared to the innumerableIndividuals grasping for energy equality it is nothing.

Dreams of tasteful bovine, rolling by the endless ocean thermal filled fields should be filling your head.Against the choked deaths of your supposed belovedsThis is not expensive.

Laugh a little longer you disgusting jesters of finance. We will end you.

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CRY HAVOCChinaThe greatestThief of our hardGrasped engineering thoughtGone. Gone.

NeverComing back.Cities flaring likeMushrooms, on the back ofTheft.

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OurBlue collarsGasping in the dirtof poverty. Red iron oresRemain.

We areShipping outOur wealth and shippingIn fifth column invadersQuickly.

Oh soQuickly fruitsOf the enlightenmentTurn to sick rotten dustPutrid.

Know wellThat the lone bird,lone eagle, stealsFrom us to but it onlyAsks.

For ourMoney. You canReturn money at the tapOf a computer key. But our redLand?

Only With self sameDripping, pulsing blood.

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Don't let it slip away. NotEver.

UP THE STUDENTS

It is a sport based on combatEven practices leave me with a train of bruisesSteam rising from my scrum hat.We run through forward feints and other ruses.But fierce trials promote a fierce bond, thatLinks team members like brothers,From genetically unrelated mothers.It doesn't matter if you are thin or fat.

We are focused on a simple goalWinning the score.It doesn't matter if that tricky winger stoleThe ball, get your roarOn. Push them back, rollThem back. We are a single wolf packStackUp and plug that ruptured defensive hole.

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Though glories fadeThe friendships never doAs we relive all those rivals we slayed.I never did rueA moment I spent, the injury toll I paid.Students in arms against the pesky EastsAnd those other Neanderthal beasts. A life in blue and gold certainly exceeds one of boring plaid.

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