Monday, December 4, 2017

My Hyacinth Girl

My Hyacinth Girl
© Surazeus
2017 12 04

Heart pounding at the prospect of my death,
I walk the maze of city streets at night
and paint faces of strangers on their doors
to conjure their ancestors from the grave
who calculate how atoms weave our souls
on my quest to find my hyacinth girl.

While I am strolling down Fifth Avenue,
escaping to Greenwich Village at dawn,
I stop to dream on broad Library steps
where Aslan and Jesus are set in stone,
and watch myself in the mirror of time
on my quest to find my hyacinth girl.

I flee through shadows to escape the wrath
of Lucky Luciano with his eye
that watches everything like Santa Claus
who buys my liquor for large bags of cash
while young girls sew shirts in dark factories
on my quest to find my hyacinth girl.

I ride the elevator to the sky
where Icarus gives me his repaired wings
so I can fly with Batman on gold wind
to cleanse the streets of Gotham from dark crime
but pride comes before the fall of Hubris
on my quest to find my hyacinth girl.

Nine days and nine nights the Light-Maker falls
from the Empire State Building to Arcadia
where Lucifer works at the grocery store
pumping gas for billionaires of Wall Street
who invest capital in factory slaves
on my quest to find my hyacinth girl.

Alone in the Museum of Lost Souls
I edit clips of ten thousand old movies
to compose grand epic tale in collage
that presents the whole history of mankind
in the journey for Justice of the Fool
on my quest to find my hyacinth girl.

Busting open the iron factory door,
I find nine hundred girls on thirteen floors
under the direction of Three Blind Fates
sewing our destinies in fancy clothes
that skinny models wear on fashion stage
on my quest to find my hyacinth girl.

Amid the crowd of broken-hearted eyes
I find the girl I love with bleeding hands
and tell her we will find the Promised Land,
then grasp her hand and escape factory hell,
racing far through the labyrinth of debt
on my quest to find my hyacinth girl.

Walking nowhere through the waste land of power,
we travel from New York to Idaho,
singing at sunset on the signless road
that we will find the Promised Land someday
and build our cottage on the river shore
on my quest to find my hyacinth girl.

The long black limousine with flashing wheels
blocks our secret way home to paradise
and rich Apollo in black pin-stripe suit
abducts my bride and shoots me in the heart
then gets elected Senator of Maine
on my quest to find my hyacinth girl.

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