New Garden Of Freedom

New Garden Of Freedom
© Surazeus
2018 03 26

We are not so crazy as we might think
though our whole world seems to be on the brink
of world war between psychopathic kings
while I pretend I have angelic wings.

I busk on the busy street at high noon
to reveal the light of the magic moon
that shimmers in the verses of my song,
pretending I am noble and belong.

When I feel rage of rejection with fear
I grip my rifle so my goal is clear
to twang guitar strings and sing country tune
how my love left me under weeping moon.

Now why would I want to shoot people dead
when I feel their sorrows inside my head,
so I chant jaunty tune to make them dance
and lead them through Hell in a psychic trance.

I lead them to the Underworld of dreams
past barking dogs, over lethargic streams,
and to the cavern of mute nameless souls
where devils put us in our self-dug holes.

The Psychiatrist takes us all apart
and reveals the labyrinth inside our heart,
then scatters puzzle pieces of our brains
jumbled with illusions on windy plains.

The Egg Man with a thousand eyes appears,
each eye one mirror reflecting our fears,
and tells us how we fell off the Great Wall,
so we wear our face in the gallery hall.

Putting ourselves back together again,
assembling new souls from forgotten pain,
we follow the Pied Piper to the Light,
reborn to emerge from death like the kite.

Sewn ragged dolls by Doctor Frankenstein,
who plays violin by the sparkling Rhine,
we all emerge from funhouse mirror church
to sing atheist hymns by the silver birch.

They blast apart our illusions of truth
so we follow our reborn savior sleuth
to construct from ruins of America
new Garden of Freedom named Onatah.