The Dreamscapes's Blog

Slipstream Poetry & Stories from the Dreamscapes

Echoes ~ 16 February 2018

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…Blind within the night,

the name is last to dissolve in ascension…


Heard the waves within the siren’s song,

as saline rises into scenes reeling,

upon the beach

within past lives’ psalms.

Her sword borne in hand

with feet where another she once stood

within ancient times medieval

upon the slick wet rocks,

while facing the spray of the waters

that this spirit has yet to cross,

for if it were to fall then we are to dissolve,

without our goddess’s corporeal touch.

Final moments…pure warmth in passing,

as the thorns entwine around the bones ossified, fossilized, in these sands.

Rose petals falling from hair as once was braided within waking visions, and

forgotten dreams. As oft refrained within these: all hearts are born broken,

as our eyes are not but tokens

spent in the stead of our souls.

Fires sought within the lost,

when creation alone

burns in the night,

and our embers rise to take flight,

sojourn, and to become again stars,

and to at last taste Her breath within the frost of the night…


~ 16 February 2018

Triggered by a poem by my friend Lori,



Written by thedreamscapes

25/02/2018 at 08:34

Swan Psalm ~ 13 February 2018

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…has become muted now,

as a dead swan,

who had burned bright within flame,

~ brilliant shining~

yet naught but ashes now,

and gone…

Silence is the psalm…


~ 13 February 2018


Written by thedreamscapes

17/02/2018 at 18:09

Posted in Apocalypse, Poetry

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Three of Six Temple Visions ~ 4 January 2018

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Saw fire in the sky over the badlands,

mountain flame rising

flows of magna earth.

Caldera, mountains, flame,

and the number thirty-three.

…near to the red skies,

but not they to be,

not of man,

not of man,

may be.


Saw pestilence upon the red earth,

desert mesas rising behind,

and a horseman riding toward and east.

The rider being more machine,

metal face, eyes that gleamed,

beneath hat and leather,

electronic whip in fist,

hooves beating the dust of disease,

and then

the number twenty-three.

Then was shown a choice

between two loves, two destinies.


Then a beautiful clear night

of the Pacific North-West,

the air so clean,

and stars shining again above full trees.

But they were crystalline,

strangely pale,

and in false patterns,

until these pseudo-suns fell upon the earth,

and sea.

Asked the Creator, “Why?”

and heard the word, “Death.”

And for the quest of,


saw the number thirteen.


~ 4 January 2018


Written by thedreamscapes

14/01/2018 at 08:32

Posted in Apocalypse, Phrophesy, Poetry, visions

Tagged with ,

An Empty House ~ 23 December 2017

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An empty house

to never again be filled…?

But to collapse upon

what was,

should rent

so as that

demons shall never fill.

As spirits wanders afar,

while as such shall be—free.

And echoes fall,


down the iron cased well…



~ 23 December 2017


Written by thedreamscapes

24/12/2017 at 18:29

Posted in Apocalypse, Poetry

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Refrain, Daughter Beware ~ 17 December 2017

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Daughter beware,

for equality in this occident,

is designed in his image,

and demands you become as he,

instead of she.

Sister beware,

for the fires and famine,

war and woe,

death and disease,

are coming,


to cleanse this Earth

of he.

And new Eden,

shall be of the goddess,

and of She…


~ 17 December 2017


Written by thedreamscapes

23/12/2017 at 22:45

Posted in Apocalypse, Phrophesy, Poetry, visions

Tagged with ,

Remember them Now ~ 16 December 2017

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doesn’t not remember us,

we were women victorious,


glittering silvern in mourning

and in the depths of night

by our own firelight,

law, and freedom,

until our defeat.

Female warriors


and then forgot

by his-story.


Remember us now,

gaze into the fire-light,

and look deep within

find us,



in spirit

lingering yet long past,

and written

upon your mitochondrial walls…

…for Armageddon is the final fires of Man,

and our daughters shall be eternal

in paradise…


~ 16 December 2017


Written by thedreamscapes

17/12/2017 at 09:02

Comes Winter ~ 17 November 2017

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The shadows are now long,

for these are the shortest of days.

Gather at hearth and flame,

and feast upon autumn’s remains;

waste not what shall in winter rot;

for within the cold star’s shine

are whispers of the starving moon,

and echoes of wolf’s howl

in deep valley

upon the frozen river.

Dream we now wishes

for the great mysteries

that which lie

beneath the hollow snow…


~ 17 November 2017

Written by thedreamscapes

18/11/2017 at 07:06

Posted in Phrophesy, Poetry

Tagged with ,

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