Will The Blind Angel
© Surazeus
2018 10 01
When pumpkin devils rise from field of bones
to walk the small town streets where no one knows
the names of the dead who never come home,
will the blind angel investigate crime.
When the young woman without a last name
walks through the labyrinth of her tiny home
to paint faces of the dead on glass walls,
will the blind angel forge her a new mask.
When the white horse glides through the Talking Wood
past the ancient mansion where no one lives
to teach the little sad girl how to fly,
will the blind angel break the puzzle mirror.
When the gas station attendant wakes up
from heroic dream of the last starfighter
to wear rusting armor of Parzival,
will the blind angel paint on the clown makeup.
When the boy and girl, walking back to town,
transform to skeletons who never dance,
and kiss by the river where apples rot,
will the blind angel paint all road signs blank.
When the preacher in the little white church
opens his Bible after midnight hour
to see rivers of blood heaped with our brains,
will the blind angel play the laughing dragon.
When the young woman who made a new name
throws ancient books out the library window
which turn into butterflies above town,
will the blind angel smash the harp of David.
When the old woman with thirteen eyes weaves
strands of our fates in tapestry of death,
revealing prophecy of the world queen,
will the blind angel fly over Middle Earth.
When the young carpenter who designs tables
transforms into the laughing wolf at noon
to sing country songs on the cafe stage,
will the blind angel devour bloody words.
When the princess who lives in the glass tower
makes voodoo dolls of all people in town
to make them dance wild on Saturday night,
will the blind angel twist our violin strings.
When the black cat who knows my secret name,
my mother never spoke before she died,
appears at my window just before dawn,
will the blind angel stab seeds in my heart.
When the young woman with grape vines for hair
transforms my broken body into children
who build new homes in cities far away,
will the blind angel wake inside my head.
© Surazeus
2018 10 01
When pumpkin devils rise from field of bones
to walk the small town streets where no one knows
the names of the dead who never come home,
will the blind angel investigate crime.
When the young woman without a last name
walks through the labyrinth of her tiny home
to paint faces of the dead on glass walls,
will the blind angel forge her a new mask.
When the white horse glides through the Talking Wood
past the ancient mansion where no one lives
to teach the little sad girl how to fly,
will the blind angel break the puzzle mirror.
When the gas station attendant wakes up
from heroic dream of the last starfighter
to wear rusting armor of Parzival,
will the blind angel paint on the clown makeup.
When the boy and girl, walking back to town,
transform to skeletons who never dance,
and kiss by the river where apples rot,
will the blind angel paint all road signs blank.
When the preacher in the little white church
opens his Bible after midnight hour
to see rivers of blood heaped with our brains,
will the blind angel play the laughing dragon.
When the young woman who made a new name
throws ancient books out the library window
which turn into butterflies above town,
will the blind angel smash the harp of David.
When the old woman with thirteen eyes weaves
strands of our fates in tapestry of death,
revealing prophecy of the world queen,
will the blind angel fly over Middle Earth.
When the young carpenter who designs tables
transforms into the laughing wolf at noon
to sing country songs on the cafe stage,
will the blind angel devour bloody words.
When the princess who lives in the glass tower
makes voodoo dolls of all people in town
to make them dance wild on Saturday night,
will the blind angel twist our violin strings.
When the black cat who knows my secret name,
my mother never spoke before she died,
appears at my window just before dawn,
will the blind angel stab seeds in my heart.
When the young woman with grape vines for hair
transforms my broken body into children
who build new homes in cities far away,
will the blind angel wake inside my head.
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