THE END OF DREAMS
ALEXANDER STAMP
-1-
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.
-2-
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I'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.
-3-
-4-
DEDICATION
I 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.
-5-
-6-
-7-
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.
-8-
PERSONAL
-9-
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?
- 10 -
I do not know the answers to these questions, no one
person can predict the flow of tomorrow’s events, but I
do know that I will never forget my journey to that
strange paradise.
- 11 -
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 together
But 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,
- 12 -
But ever remains the hurt.
She is different from other ladies
And love for her has destined me for Hades.
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.
- 13 -
CHINA DOLL IN ROUGE
Red hair streaming languidly down
Her expertise is in defeating the causes of a frown
By amusement and laughter at all
The wonderful things of her early life, like a great 20's
ball.
Her face is so white, I appear as a Moor
As 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 system
Isn't as ugly as mine; a worn-out cistern.
She is my ghostly ethical guide, her touch
A gentle nightly tiller clutch.
- 14 -
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.
My heart is beating like a steel press,
Burning red sparks sliding down my less
sensitive synapses as society's stimulant of choice
makes my lizard brain free to rejoice.
I'm a passenger in my wrecking ball body,
Swinging from every sign as lights gaudy
Extend beyond into an infinite monstrosity;
Like Arcturus at superluminal velocity.
I'm laughing now, my friends raise a collective eyebrow
But 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
traitor
To life's lofty goals
Libidinous evenings like tonight, where after I rake
myself over the coals.
- 15 -
Nihilism and self destruction, the most human and
perverse
Reverse;
Upon the great hairless ape
With an endless and varied shape.
We are at the bar now. I digress.
- 16 -
MADNESS
Have you
Ever had a
Moment when your perfect
Picture of reality smeared by
Slyly.
Normal
Or at least
I thought I was close
to it. I thought the flying door was
open.
But no
It's shut and I
don't know why, I just
Don't know why at all. I'm colour blind.
Maybe.
That is what
The arrogant
Nurse waving the book
Of obscure patterns said; waving
Her book.
I can
See all shades
All colours. Red, blue, etc.
But I cannot see these simple little
- 17 -
Numbers.
I think
There's some little
cerebral disconnect here.
But if I can't see the visual reality...
What is?
What is it that I am seeing?
- 18 -
WE ARE ALL CYBORGS NOW
We are two things
United by silvered key rings
Petroleum fire burning, raging
No paging
No texting for us the vehicular cybermen
No cylinders of ten
But still powerful screaming is emitted,
The sonic landscape refitted.
Two creatures hybridized into one perfect version
Metal and flesh avowing their normal aversion.
We're here to rock your organic world
The spoiler already unfurled.
The sweet loss of control
In 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 distractions
Slip away. Now it's only reactions;
Electro-chemical impulses turn the power steering
With an accompany crescendo of rough gearing.
- 19 -
Come slipstream
with us and you'll see it is the cream
Of life. A fine balance of joy
and terror; You'll put down the soy.
- 20 -
GREEN FIELDS
In a gentle wispy grassed valley
Lies a house.
A house, home to the mariner clan.
Separated from the wild oceans
They turn their hand to the growth
Of new life, verdant and flourishing.
But among the young the siren sea
Holds strong, bathing their dreams.
And all are watched by silent sentinels.
Tall and endless in number, evoking
darker times in lands far away.
But a home still it is,
A green tinged mental rock
For the nomad family,
At last come to rest in this new world
- 21 -
DECLINE OF THE WEST
- 22 -
THE END IS THE BEGINNING
A peaceful day in the desert.
Little stirs in the heat
But the work men,
Busy with their metal construct
That towers above even the proud cactus.
They finish their tasks and retire.
A pregnant silence fills the air.
Then the command is given
Electrical orders fire in man and machine
The last second of peace passes
Little ripples of explosive energy ripple through the
tower
Foreshadowing the reaction to come.
A mighty hand crushes the interior of the object
Then the shell disappears
Seething, roiling tongues of fire
Lash out at the world
The men stumble
From their sleep
Their ears stream with blood
In the distance a new sun is born.
- 23 -
HOPE/CHANGE
Sunlight streams down from the skies
While her cooling body attracts the flies
Hungry for the dark flesh of forgotten tribes
Crushed for the interest of corporate bribes
The boys in blue
Sworn to uphold their duty to me and you
Poisoning and beating the unwashed rastas
Autonomous slaves to hidden masters
The fall of a united European dream
Whilst hydrocarbons poison our backyard stream
Financial ruin poisoning the hope of generations
Whilst lies are told to the people and their nations.
Carbon dioxide
and Dihydrogen monoxide
Call down the goddess of warming love
Great Venus, from the skies above.
Where is hope? Where is change?
- 24 -
PEACE IS NEVER COMING
With bare feet moving wildly beneath him
A dull bronze second skin weighing heavily
Turning his body swiftly, sore sinew stretching.
The spear glints fiercely as it flies
A 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
blade
Strikes his metalled chest. It may jolt his physical
Form but his mind is not restricted so. The swing of the
Blade and a murderous Deus Vult continues the
massacre.
The heady reek of black powder, the heady
Scent of death tortures his nose. A steaming stump
Of an arm lazily sails through the air. Not striking him
Just sickening. With rifle raised he shoots his khaki
Brother yards away. Across the plains of the three
Coloured 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.
- 25 -
The sun has been summoned here to earth for the
briefest moment.
Charred meat litters the flattened
Streets. Is this an end to the cycle, have men wrought too
Powerful a tool?
The river of time holds many a thing, but Peace? Can the
Bloody tapestry of man be overcome?
- 26 -
DELIVER US FROM OURSELVES
He 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 sun
And on its vacuum-piercing peak hard radiation stabs
into him,
Like so long ago an eagle’s beak did.
All resulting from a simple gift
That 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 maybe
To send mankind to the stars and forge new worlds
In 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
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.
- 27 -
FIREFLIES
Life 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
- 28 -
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.
- 29 -
WE ARE THE RICH
I see your insane drunken photos on Facebook,
While Israel is deployed as a insidious rook
Ally and puppeteer to the West
Gobbling up all the petrodollars from the rest.
Laughing gaily while Afghan children scream
But 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 Percent
Is fiction, truth bent
On the larded, golden anvil of consumers;
Honeyed lies like tumours.
I'm not saying your apocalyptic nihilism is wrong
But let's sensibly come along;
In the land of the truth deniers,
The principled are tarred and feathered, as liars.
- 30 -
MIND WEAPONRY
The 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 a
lethargic 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.
- 31 -
The ideologies of victimhood are a comfortable
part of this false paradigm to. 'All public space is male
space'
You deride me in a screedish polemic.
You crawling little worm....
Be proud of your heritage, be proud of your gender
Give thanks to your elders
Atomization only succeeds if you let it.
Feminism/green/conservative/liberal/prolife/modernism/r
ealpolitik/white nationalism/Islam/science
Are all wrong.
Synthesize your mind weapon reality.
- 32 -
I HAVE A DARK DREAM
In my darkest dreams I rule you.
I've invented something fierce
I call it
Reteknatism, a fit
For our fruitless struggles, bit
By bit
It will pierce
Your trembling lizard brain, gradually turning to stew.
What will it bring?
An end to corporate power.
The glorious purpose you have been
seeking all your desperate life. The lean
power of private enterprise seen
Melded with government like an intricate bower.
The last cry of the West, Deus Vult you must sing.
Last? I jest
I meant endless.
The information age leveraged onto
The corrupt parasite classes, a bullet through
Their 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.
- 33 -
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?
- 34 -
IN THE END, DOES IT MATTER?
It sometimes seems that man
And his fumbling activities
Are just a messy approximation, no more than
A mere shade of the azure threatening skies.
We are a jewel among the local cluster
Awash with self replicating beauty, but bluster
and national leaders serious and leaden
Flirt with poisonous multi-formed Armageddon
But against the cosmos they are an atom
Tiny, below a 100 percent confidence interval
An irrelevant tiny datum
For terrors abound in the endless night, unbound and
infernal.
No need for fictional abominations
Like dread Shoggoth,
For the heaven gazers´ ruminations
Reveal 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.
- 35 -
AUSTRALIA
- 36 -
SANDSTONE CASTLES
Study down under
Is a rort.
These sandstone castle are mere Ponzi schemes.
Who would have thought?
That gender studies degree you bought
Won't save you in bankruptcy court.
We push internationals through,
Never examining our quality of education.
Kaching Kaching.
We're blinded by monetary temptation.
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 lure
To 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 paper
Thin and cheap, and what I've learnt in this caper?
That I'm no slick, no Don Draper.
- 37 -
DONATIONS
A strong wind blows the dying leaves
Across the concreted path, while my heart gently heaves
In light endorphinal expectation.
A good deed done and its accompanying gratification.
The red lettered Christian tiethers
Are 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
A faint stench of resume building leaks out from their
ambitions, a little mouldy distraction
from 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 enough
Our patter is at first a little rough
But gradually we connect to our target market
Like a steadily tipping mercury switch in an electric
circuit.
One man blares futile rage at the supposed religion
peddlers
- 38 -
The 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......
- 39 -
CROWDED CITIES, EMPTY COUNTRY
They say we have a straining patchwork
Economy, with mining Captain Kirk
At warp 10 and everyone else lagging behind.
But take a step back and rewind.
What we really have? Empty spaces
With occasional cities showing their faces.
Like concrete grey sampling functions, spread
Great apart by deserts blooming red.
The sampling functions distort
Wider through limited atmospheric bandwidth. If you've
bought
An abode here you are packed ever
denser into an unloving termite mound, compacted closer
forever.
Can you feel the sick grasping
Feelers brushing past your carapace? The rasping
On your thickened hide of social convention?
Maybe that's a civilised conceit we shouldn't mention.
However, your arachnid counterparts thrive in this target
rich
Environment, like a great eight legged lich.
But they've always prospered in this vast land.
Especially in the verdant temperate band.
- 40 -
They are glass cannon though, cracking with a sharp
sound.
Much like the fetid timber I climbed around
In 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 decamp
At least it won't be such a cloying damp.
- 41 -
COAL WILL END
I can see the dark clock of carbon coal running low, the
lights
dimming and death filling the great cities
of this southern land
Endless and open.
But there is hope now in the end of history, the golden
rays of god streaming from the infinite skies
Immolating 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.
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 lie
To the combustion empire. Red, white and blue.
Two trillion barrels? When compared to the innumerable
- 42 -
Individuals 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 beloveds
This is not expensive.
Laugh a little longer you disgusting jesters of finance.
We will end you.
- 43 -
CRY HAVOC
China
The greatest
Thief of our hard
Grasped engineering thought
Gone. Gone.
Never
Coming back.
Cities flaring like
Mushrooms, on the back of
Theft.
Our
Blue collars
Gasping in the dirt
of poverty. Red iron ores
Remain.
We are
Shipping out
Our wealth and shipping
In fifth column invaders
Quickly.
Oh so
Quickly fruits
Of the enlightenment
Turn to sick rotten dust
- 44 -
Putrid.
Know well
That the lone bird,
lone eagle, steals
From us to but it only
Asks.
For our
Money. You can
Return money at the tap
Of a computer key. But our red
Land?
Only
With self same
Dripping, pulsing blood.
Don't let it slip away. Not
Ever.
- 45 -
UP THE STUDENTS
It is a sport based on combat
Even practices leave me with a train of bruises
Steam rising from my scrum hat.
We run through forward feints and other ruses.
But fierce trials promote a fierce bond, that
Links team members like brothers,
From genetically unrelated mothers.
It doesn't matter if you are thin or fat.
We are focused on a simple goal
Winning the score.
It doesn't matter if that tricky winger stole
The ball, get your roar
On. Push them back, roll
Them back. We are a single wolf pack
Stack
Up and plug that ruptured defensive hole.
Though glories fade
The friendships never do
As we relive all those rivals we slayed.
I never did rue
A moment I spent, the injury toll I paid.
Students in arms against the pesky Easts
And those other Neanderthal beasts.
A life in blue and gold certainly exceeds one of boring
plaid.
- 46 -