Dorothy, leave your slippers home
and dream a little deeper, dear.
Walk drifting down the yellow road
to find another sleeper here.
As every brick disintegrates
to blackness in your waking eyes,
tread forward to what emanates
attractive in the ruby skies.
So far away from Kansas
in a purgatory of the clouds,
do drink into the madness
of the rainbow's blackest glory now.
The violent skies are hungry;
Where angels fall in fear to tread
with lions, tigers, bears and monkies
flying wildly overhead.
The wicked trees of troubled toil
mock faces in their patterns of
the forking road cocooned in coils
around the rings of Saturn, love.
Heart fit to break, my mind deceased,
and courage is impermanent
so follow me six feet beneath
the fabled Wizard's curtain, then
just place your hand upon the seal
embroidered on my coffin door
and speak to me with cyclone zeal
like dead or long forgotten lore.
As I await your dream of fate
in my eternal hungering,
the richest witches' brews I taste
to grow into a younger King.
Still 'tis the blood of dreamers fair
I wish to sample on my tongue,
so come before me if you dare
to answer as the chosen one.