Insomnia Haunts My Attic
Longish days of tiring eyre
trudge upon the worn paths.
Seek the peace of feted rest;
of a dead sleep so desired.
Sunset of orange lazily falls;
twilight faeries of dew appear
on a toadstool, fluttering wings;
my comfy bed beckoningly calls.
Hours gone by, sun sleeps sound.
Close my eyes, but they soon open
to a cat's meow, a creaking board,
even my heartbeat won't calm down.
Cruising the halls in wretched panic;
wandering finds me climbing upstairs,
by the window I sit, watching stars,
as woeful insomnia haunts my attic.
Walking the city streets
a lost story looking to
answer queries for cash.
Is she here, or there, or
perhaps at the local bar
with her new beau in tow.
Is he at the no tell motel
where rooms by the hour,
rent with soiled linens but
precious time spent in lust.
Cheapen the thrill, but pack
the church beg forgiveness
for non pious entertainment.
The gum shoe walks, stalks
dark corners of the rancid
ally's and watering holes,
perhaps out there tonight
on the hunt, watching you!
An evening of fire, brimstone and desire;
walking with a torch to the Pulpit of Dark.
Book in hand, followers unite and stand;
preaching torrents by the burning sparks.
Mumbling to the moon; a diabolical belief;
the devil reaches out to devour the devout.
Breathe into a cauldron, exhale in shadows;
crucible burns long gnarly twisted fingers.
Raise high to your deity; sky or far below.
A dark spirit rises, a tempted Watcher lingers
in an anointed dance of homicidal tendancy,
lost within ethereal dreams of moon flowers.
Pity a bluish pig dancing in a velveteen sky;
praise the virtuous ones of a secreted piety.
My skin is ice as the clock strikes midnight,
now racing away lingeringly yours, gratified.
I laughed in their faces
as I committed to flight
within the dimmed night
of a vast swirling haze
sprinkled with delights.
Awaken a spirited grin
from a darkling gaze;
a chalice of warm gin
and unicorns danced.
We all recited a ditty,
"Race your dragonfly;
Grasp a shooting star;
Whisper to the moon;
Dance with the fairy."
Your devil warms up
on the summer's grill.
I forgot the bugle call
whilst dipping my quill
as I committed to flight;
a soulless zombied bite,
in the eve of a raucous,
contemptuous icy night.
Ken Allan Dronsfield is a published poet and author originally from New Hampshire, now residing in Oklahoma. He enjoys the outdoors, playing guitar and spending time with his cats Merlin and Willa. He is the co-editor of the new poetry anthology titled, "Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze" available on amazon.com. His published work can be found in journals, magazines and blogs throughout the web, including Indiana Voice Journal, Jellyfish Whispers, Pyrokinection, Belle Reve Journal, Peeking Cat Magazine, Dead Snakes, Bewildering Stories, and many others.