Lost In The Crowded City
© Surazeus
2018 07 15
The flicker of old dreams on fenced-in fields
reveals strange horrors of nameless despair
we suppress under weird beauty of art
to translate eerie ennui into hope.
While huddled lost in alleyway of fear,
somewhere in vast metropolitan maze
of space city ruled by kings of drug gangs,
I find ticking watch Tennyson once wore.
I open cracked glass and turn thin brass hands
which spins time backward to Victorian age
where gentlemen wearing top hats spin canes
and talk philosophy at the world bank.
The ancient bearded wizard himself strides
past entrance to the alleyway of gloom,
so I follow him by Serpentine Lake
through wild Kensington Gardens to Hyde Park.
Before statue of Achilles he stops
and turns to face me in the twilight glow,
and deep into my heart his eye strikes clear,
then hands me sword of Arthur with a grin.
Gazing up from blade of Excalibur,
I ask King Alfred what grand mission guides
my quest to perform monumental deeds,
so he explains with voice soft as night thunder.
"Fight for Liberty of every live soul,
defend the helpless from aggressive hate,
and ensure equal justice is enforced
for every person who breathes air of hope."
Gripping sword of Arthur in trembling hand,
I vow on noble Spirit of Britannia,
Mother of our Nation, to fight for truth,
and overthrow all tyrants of the world.
While struggling to wield sharp Excalibur,
I limp toward castle on the hill of skulls
where the tyrant, who keeps girls locked in rooms,
laughs and throws gold coins that clang on my head.
While leaning on the sword to catch my breath,
I notice how it sinks in wet cement
that hardens as I grip its leather handle
while a thousand years flashes by my eyes.
Startled from my dream of Victorian times,
I find myself lost in the crowded city
where thousands of people walk somewhere quickly,
and no one sees me clutching sword of death.
Looking down at the sharp sword in my hand,
I see guitar that vibrates when I strum,
so I sing of justice and liberty
while people throw money in my fedora.
© Surazeus
2018 07 15
The flicker of old dreams on fenced-in fields
reveals strange horrors of nameless despair
we suppress under weird beauty of art
to translate eerie ennui into hope.
While huddled lost in alleyway of fear,
somewhere in vast metropolitan maze
of space city ruled by kings of drug gangs,
I find ticking watch Tennyson once wore.
I open cracked glass and turn thin brass hands
which spins time backward to Victorian age
where gentlemen wearing top hats spin canes
and talk philosophy at the world bank.
The ancient bearded wizard himself strides
past entrance to the alleyway of gloom,
so I follow him by Serpentine Lake
through wild Kensington Gardens to Hyde Park.
Before statue of Achilles he stops
and turns to face me in the twilight glow,
and deep into my heart his eye strikes clear,
then hands me sword of Arthur with a grin.
Gazing up from blade of Excalibur,
I ask King Alfred what grand mission guides
my quest to perform monumental deeds,
so he explains with voice soft as night thunder.
"Fight for Liberty of every live soul,
defend the helpless from aggressive hate,
and ensure equal justice is enforced
for every person who breathes air of hope."
Gripping sword of Arthur in trembling hand,
I vow on noble Spirit of Britannia,
Mother of our Nation, to fight for truth,
and overthrow all tyrants of the world.
While struggling to wield sharp Excalibur,
I limp toward castle on the hill of skulls
where the tyrant, who keeps girls locked in rooms,
laughs and throws gold coins that clang on my head.
While leaning on the sword to catch my breath,
I notice how it sinks in wet cement
that hardens as I grip its leather handle
while a thousand years flashes by my eyes.
Startled from my dream of Victorian times,
I find myself lost in the crowded city
where thousands of people walk somewhere quickly,
and no one sees me clutching sword of death.
Looking down at the sharp sword in my hand,
I see guitar that vibrates when I strum,
so I sing of justice and liberty
while people throw money in my fedora.
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