Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Plumbers Of Faith

Plumbers Of Faith
© Surazeus
2017 03 21

Morning light stabs his eyes through the cracked glass
after Robert lies awake all night long,
staring at shadows flickering on the wall.
Without dressing or combing his thick hair,
Robert walks down stairs to the living room
and sits beside his mother on the couch.

Clarice squeezes his hand and dabs at tears.
"I feel the whole vast city all around me,
enormous towers with steel skeletons
covered with tightened skin of brick and glass,
and filled with organs of machines and pipes,
throb and pulse alive like a sensual woman."

Clarice blushes as she looks at her son.
"Your real father whispered this in my ear
when he slid my dress up over my hips
while I was washing dishes at the sink
and filled me with sweet pleasure of his love.
I know you always thought John was your dad,
but your real father is some nameless plumber
who came to fix broken pipes in my basement
in the sultry summer of forty eight.
So that is why you heard John shout last night
because after fourteen years he realized
you are not his son, since you are much larger
and your eyes are blue and your hair is blond,
while he is more intellectual and thin
and his eyes are brown and his hair is black.
John was never much interested in sex,
at least with me, since I think he likes men,
so I had to trick him into my bed
not long after your real father and I
spent three days making love on the plush couch
while John worked late at the accounting firm.
I had to make him think you were his son.
Now that John knows you are not his real son
he told me to kick you out of his house.
I said you are only fourteen years old,
and just began your first year of high school,
but you heard him shout with impotent rage
that he refuses to house, clothe, and feed
the false bastard son of another man.
I tried my best to reason with him, but,
he insists you leave before he comes home.
I took five hundred bucks from his account
so take this money as your patrimony,
and take the motorcycle that he bought you.
Drive out west from New York to California
before he comes home and reclaims the bike."

Clarice gazes sadly into his eyes.
"Son, we had fun while you were growing up,
going to the beach, and learning to read.
I do not regret giving birth to you,
but now you have to go out on your own,
and make your own way in this world of men."

Strumming guitar on the high wooden stage,
Robert gazes out over city park
at thousands of hippies with flowing hair
who attend the large music festival.
"I left home when I was fourteen years old,
because my accountant dad was a square,
and drove my motorcycle way out west
over the vast waste land of hopeful dreams
on a sacred quest for the Holy Grail.
I arrived here in this magical land
where a star-eyed angel with golden hair,
that I met on Haight Street in San Francisco,
taught me how to play the lyre of Apollo.
So we started this psychedelic band,
and we call ourselves the Plumbers of Truth."

The slim blonde girl in flower-painted jeans,
and long golden hair that flows in the wind,
shakes her hips and rattles her tambourine,
then the band begins to play eerie music,
while Robert strums guitar and sings new lyrics.

"We are all a apart of everything whole.
We are all fragments of one divine soul.
Come dance with us around the spring May Pole.
The Cosmic Clown assigns us each our role.
We are all children of the Cosmic Clown,
who guides us to live in moneyless town."

"We are puzzle pieces in one whole frame.
We are all different, yet we are the same.
Come play your true part in the social game.
The Cosmic Clown gives us each a new name.
We are all children of the Cosmic Clown,
who teaches us to swim so we do not drown."

"We are all puppets of the Lord of Death.
We are all spirits of one divine breath.
Come wash your soul clean in communal bath.
The Cosmic Clown chooses love over wrath.
We are all children of the Cosmic Clown,
who shows us how to smile instead of frown."

"We are all angels who spring from Earth stone.
We are together and never alone.
Come chat with Jesus on God Telephone.
The Cosmic Clown gives us our life on loan.
We are all children of the Cosmic Clown,
who welcomes us home in a rainbow gown."

"We all travel one road, looking for home.
We play game of love in the cosmic dome.
Come journey with us on our quest for home.
Wherever we roam our heart is our home.
We are all children of the Cosmic Clown,
who leads us through the waste land to his home."

Robert plays solo guitar melody,
fingers twanging electric strings of light
that weaves elaborate web of bright sound
rippling on waves that lift boats of their hearts
as he leads the wild dancing crowd of hippies
over high rainbow bridge of eerie tones
far out across the galaxy of dreams
to swim into the streaming Milky Way
that vibrates surging waves in sea of souls
and sparkles fireworks in sky of their eyes.

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