Promised Land Of Onatah

Promised Land Of Onatah
© Surazeus
2018 12 22

I get lost in paintings of eerie places
that reveal secrets of beautiful faces
when ghosts appear from mist of my desire
to transcend strange slant of light ever higher
beyond perimeter of social rules
in game of fame ruled by arrogant fools.

I should turn and face my reality
that I possess no personality
except ability to imitate
actions of others from mirroring slate
of empty heart that swallows all despair,
converting horror to joy of the air.

I am blind angel with the broken wing
you saw fall from Heaven and try to sing
with twisted fingers on your city streets
that echoes rhythm of car engine beats
by twanging strings of wild-shaman guitar
to conjure visions of your fateful star.

Crushed by the silence of uncaring truth,
I rise reborn as your messiah sleuth
who must explore beyond the ruined wall
that crumbles empire of religious hall
when vampires, disguised as good holy priests,
deceive you with lie of the afterlife.

We join together on our sacred quest
to travel beyond wild sea of the west,
enduring fierce storms of mountains and seas
while sailing to Atlantis in soft breeze
to find the Promised Land of Onatah
who welcomes us to weird America.

We wander lost in paintings of landscapes
to patrol city streets in flapping capes
and rescue lost souls from the maze of church
who join us on our endless futile search
for ancient wisdom of the Holy Grail
contained in symbols of the childish tale.

I enter Temple of the Broken Stone
to find the Princess of the Twilight Zone
who deciphers riddles of the White Whole
I hide in lyrics with the arcane goal
to help Orpheus bring you back from Death
and wake your spirit with amorous breath.

While picking flowers in the field of dreams
Ophelia meets the Angel of the Streams
who teaches her the secret of rebirth
so human beings can populate the Earth
though never will control our destiny
accused by fairies of latrociny.

Though we continue our vain quest for faith
we welcome guidance from the howling wraith
who comes again as young girl dressed in white
and shows me how to spark bold torch of light
to find the Promised Land of Onatah
and build from whispers new basilica.

The castle we constructed from our fears
that kept us safe for countless aching years
becomes the death trap behind prison walls
that transforms paradise to banking halls
where human souls are bought and sold for coins
fought over by sons who spring from our loins.

Still here lost in paintings of eerie places,
I hide my secret dreams on your bookcases,
hoping to conceal the key to great power
embodied in the beauty of my tower
I build on fractured skulls of divine kings
when I descend to Earth on fragile wings.

Now I rule Promised Land of Onatah
based on concepts from esoterica
that every person acts from their free will
within just law of honest self-control
to give and take in measure of success,
conserving our souls as we make progress.