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The Prophet in the Desert - poetic tale by me

Discussion in 'The Artist's Corner' started by mr man fan, Apr 23, 2010.

  1. This is, in sorts but not totally literally restricted to, a metaphoric tale about my journey through life and my many realisations, often spurred on by the ganja plant. I've posted a few poems on here but never really got much response. I'd love to know what folk think of this. Respects if you take the time to read.

    The Prophet in the Desert

    We rode the waves through the epic colours,
    Me and my horse named Pandora.
    We had a sword for the bad guys,
    a glint of ancient knowledge for hope.

    After uncountable days riding through hardship,
    eye opening,
    with water kept in storage,
    we came across our imaginations as a star.
    It held a sign saying “This way to Utopia.”
    Past the dystopian cracked sand,
    beyond the plains we knew,
    we somehow felt without being told there lay
    the land before time -
    a land above division.

    We carried on past the star,
    thanked it for it’s wisdom
    and saddled up our notepads with sketches
    of the orchard bright and left for the future.

    Plundering on through abyss
    we slew beasts on magazine covers
    with our friend, the good natured minotaur.
    He knew the beasts bad side,
    had been enslaved by their small minds,
    tortured with years of forgotten morals,
    their jeering capture
    and tales of torment.
    Yet with us now we would ride on,
    To Valhalla! To Utopian plains!
    Truth almost within our belts -
    but something yet was missing.

    It was then a great man appeared,
    radiating victory,
    lighting up the lands further than horizon dare reach.
    We knew nothing of his achievements,
    heard only the awe ridden whispers of those that passed,
    yet a light shone within his eyes,
    his bright jewels,
    his wise looking staff,
    the stone throwers could not harm him.

    We asked from where he came,
    how it was he came to be here
    in this land between lands.
    His eyes contorted not, only looked warm
    as he replied unmovedly with the words:
    “I came to be here when I followed the Lion,
    the King of the jungle,
    the Lord of all pride,
    where I come from is no issue,
    only where I reside.”

    I said with great respect,
    “Which way is right?”
    He pointed to where the sun did shimmer,
    said “Sway not from the light,
    yet if it may set learn from dark,
    fear not of beasts -
    follow the lion not the shark.”

    That night after we parted
    I lay on bare sand facing a vibrant sky.
    I pictured Atlas struggling to hold up the world,
    as Pandora, the Minotaur and I yearned to escape it.
    Questioning the battle axe, pondering the Lion,
    I fell asleep dreaming of fruit and dying soldiers.

    I knew it was not within our destiny to become one of them,
    a dying man for an unknown cause.

    Upon wake we realised we had
    been sleeping in a graveyard where dead man dance
    amidst devils of non-deliverance that make the
    alive feel outcasted.
    “Pandora, take us from here,
    let us ride ’til our journey spawns a rainbow,
    let us make friends with the Great Men,
    let the devil claim his pay roll.”

    We crawled for many miles
    when Pandora grew too weak to carry us,
    yet, every night,
    we gave thanks to the Lion and the Great Man,
    who birth sight beyond the edge,
    a peacefulness with nature,
    respect for heroes understated
    and understanding of the human heart.
  2. I'll get back to this, but that was a lovely read.

    "I feel asleep dreaming of fruit and dying soldiers." Nice line, I like that.

    I wrote a poem a while back, about Atlas and his struggle to support the world on his shoulders... I should look for that... it's gotta have been 2 years ago though...
  3. Thanks man, glad you thought so!

    I'd be int'rested to see that :)

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