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The Blog Bog

The Mag Rack


THE DREAM IS SATIRE

The dream is satire
and as you earnestly attempt to divine
its abstruse significance it mocks you
for its import is in laughter.
In ridiculing the world that surrounds you,
in deft understatement, unearthing lunacy,
the pompous self-delusion of fools,
the absurdity of daily movements,
the pointlessness of our doings,
the vast circus of human intercourse,
the carnival of interactions.

In your interpretive pause
you review the vast panoply of
this theatre of the subconscious
and see within it the unfolding
of a great tapestry of mirth.
The laughter, embedded, obscene,
is inherent in the situational poses,
the structure of oneiric episodes,
the plot of the drama,
the subtlety of the sleeping mind
that sends messages of illumination
to the observant spirit.

                            Arnold Skemer

THE CITY OF DREAMS

The disjointed city, splayed in asphalt and concrete,
nestled in the depth of his memory
as he beholds its strange essence.
And yet it is the city of dreams,
not of hopeful expectancy
but of sequences of a different nature,
of imagery of relentless depression,
of squalid vistas and putrid visions,
of rhomboids, squares and triangles,
of decaying structures and compacted filth.
The hopeful billboards of the city fathers
that will surely inspire the multitudes
                            Arnold Skemer



        THE APOGEE

        And before the huge wave breaks forth
        it builds it up to ever greater heights
        holding within itself some eternal power,
        a physiological tremor of potential
        that lends a plosive potential, a spring like
        reservoir of promise, giving pleasurable sensation,
        a will of muscular delight, a floating
        in a balm of sybaritic power.
        All wish that they could reside there forever
        and for seconds before the wave breaks it persists
        intimating an endless sea of bodily delight
        that might continue in infinite measures
        the suggestion of a heavenly permanence.

                            Arnold Skemer

MONOLITHS OF THE NIGHT


Huge structures hover in the distance.
You move across the dark terrain
and approach slowly with careful steps.
When you are below their pedestals you look upwards
and absorb the totality of their massive size.
You go beyond and see others
standing at equidistant points
dominating the area around them.
You proceed to still others.
Each statue stares off into the distance
in possession of some infinite essence
unknown to mere mortals of the earth.
Each disanthropomorphic entity stands
in its own conundrum symbolizing
something in the broad, unpeopled plain.
You wander in isolation, hour after hour
and come to a confrontation with uncertainty
in the ineffable symbolism of their mystery. -

                            Arnold Skemer