Posted by Erik Moshe on Sunday, July 17, 2011 Under: Rhymed Verses
Dr. Lao’s Final Solution - Why Wait? EXPERIENCE A FREE TRIAL TODAY!
PART 1: INITIATION
Adam Wilks was a high school mathematics teacher at the peak of depressiveness
The city below a hulking mass of geometry that seemed to envelop him
His skin pale yellow bleached by sunlight into a feverish melanin
To live without reason was hell for him, so it led to this action
Terrible memories of death had entrapped him, vines of guilt wrenching and slashing
A perfect wife and daughter killed in a car crash..
And sent to the depths of the darkest highway interstate ditch you could ever imagine.
His entire world destroyed, alas, he took solace in this moment’s time
Open eyed, mentally preparing himself for the plunge’s impact:
The collision, the folding spine, the blistering heat of the concrete
as his bodily whole divides and cold void starts to pour inside
He steps forward and glides - let the tragic story be told
Head clips a rail on the way down, leg caught on a balcony 13 stories below
PART 2: THE DREAMSCAPE SOLUTION
Bright nebulas of dust flounder light from an azurite recovery pod
Adam is laid on a flat surface, skull merged with a type of helmet of hovering cogs
“What we have accomplished here is for a wondrous cause…“
Dr. Kenneth Lao grumbles and nods..
He scratches a bald head, then gestures towards Adam’s body with the subtlest pause
“Harnessing the power of recent organic technology, this ordinary man
…can live in his own ‘fantasy land’ while in a coma;
- incidentally, out of the mortuary’s hands
In other words, he’ll be in a giant daydream,
- his consciousness connected by a string of synching steel..
And the most incredible part of this solution…is that he’ll think it’s real.
A comatose state of bliss you could never fathom in your wildest dreams
…well, unless you were in the coma, of course!
Valleys of virgins, miles of green… Dr. Lao smiled, then beamed.
“He won’t want to wake up - but witness with your own eyes.
Your senses, your very hearts; Gentlemen, behold the trial of dreams.”
Chambers of liquid distilled and thickened,
Creating a cloud effect on the cerebral stem
Releasing the unnatural, strange occurrence of the dream within -
Facetious samurais fly above trees seething with leaping pantomimes
Machines consider the prospects of love at a picnic below,
- indulging in mead and peachy brandywine
Iron beasts of gleaming samsonite, school children reaching tantric heights
As the evening spans to night, and the curious clergyman of axiom stands at last
Stares at vast patterns of hive minds reflecting on high times through amber glass
Systematic energy expressing chemistry in memory, a conceptual blitz
World cities of the future -
Ventricular mechanisms, sentinel ships, amphetamine drips
No merits when the pedestal tips, triggering mental eclipse
Life’s a cluster eroding over many centuries causing sedimentary rifts
When I grew up, I prayed to myself “I’ll never be this…”
"...close to the end of the never ending splendid quest
to know the ledge where Serenity sits --"
In her front row seat, watching my wife smolder in the hellion’s ditch
My daughter floating over a paradise lost - dreadfully missed
Acid rain stained purple umbrella curled in the soft lentils of the gentlest fist
I bless her head with a kiss as she tries to reject the dispense of Machiavellian vision
Dark landscapes impose on her, as Thelonious Monk sleeps in an Orwellian prison
Frostbitten from women, the wisdom within him converts to visual rhythm
- All that jazz, falling rhododendrons, glittering ribbons of a kingdom forbidden
You can hear the voices of the fallen kings if you listen to the instruments spinning
An obscure spawn of earth song cueing our eventual riddance…
PART 3: REHABILITATION OF THE MIND IN REALITY
Months later, Adam Wilks slowly awakens from his soul’s coma
To find his left leg is still heavily bandaged so he rolls over -
Soon after everything goes back to normal, and it seems great
In his head he’s constantly thinking… must return to the dreamscape…
He ends up jumping off of the same rooftop - this time he misses the balcony
Splattering the busy street below - an omniscient masterpiece
“…don’t you think?”
In : Rhymed Verses