Angel Of True Liberty
© Surazeus
2019 02 19
Twisted among jagged rocks and thick hedge
of roseless bushes bristling with sharp thorns
I find fallen angel with broken wings,
so I carry her along railroad tracks,
past steel and brick factories belching smoke,
then through tangled fence of twisted barbed wire.
Kneeling on shore of black polluted river
that slurries between clusters of glass towers,
I lay fallen angel with broken wings
with gentle care on yellow matted weeds,
then wash blood and mud off her freckled face
with tears of sorrow flowing from my eyes.
Through rancid smog that hangs over swamp sludge,
six wizards in black robes, who bear dream wands
carved from bones of dragons in putrid caves,
stride splashing through roseless bushes of thorns
to form circle around our fallen angel,
then throw back their hoods and gaze at her face.
Edgar Allan Poe mends her broken wings
by waving twelve raven feathers in circles,
Charles Baudelaire restores light of her mind
by polishing her eyes with lemon juice,
and Paul Verlaine tends her feet bruised from stones
by rubbing leaves from black oaks on her soles.
Percy Bysshe Shelley sparks her beating heart
by breathing west wind through her soft red lips,
Stephane Mallarme heals scratches from thorns
by smearing on eternal snow of stars,
and Arthur Rimbaud bathes her tangled hair
with sea-salted words of delirium.
Lifting her up again in cradling arms,
I bear fallen angel, healed by their hands,
through city streets crowded with listless souls
who wander blind as they moan tuneless prayers,
to fountain before the government palace,
while six wizards form a protective circle.
Guillaume Apollinaire dips horse-hair brush
in blood of my heart to write on her breast
pentagram with circles of the Kabbalah,
and Rainer Maria Rilke plucks petals
from blood-red roses like butterfly wings
and places them sticking to her soft skin.
Red rose petals transform into silk gown,
so I slip the angel wings from her shoulders
when she rises in brisk breeze from the sea,
and hold her hand as we together climb
thirteen steps to top of the pyramid
where she stands before tall black obelisk.
Spreading both arms wide like wings of the swan,
Astarte lifts crystal ball toward black sky
and chants melodious words of ancient spells
till First Flash of the Big Bang flares forth hot
in blazing vision to reveal creation
when Egg Eye expands into the White Whole.
Eight wizards transform into star-white ravens
that fly seven times around her bright head
then spiral down into frame of my skull
to flash eidolic glamor through my brain,
weaving vast galaxies in neural network
which conjures virtual model of our world.
Spirit of Liberty, bearing sharp sword
and scales of justice, stands on temple porch
to inspire despondent hearts of lost souls
with vibrant vision of our new world order
where every person lives by their free will
with equal rights in aegis of the law.
Our fallen angel of true Liberty,
though beaten and abused by greedy tyrants,
rises reborn from ashes of world war
and leads the working people of the world
to create new system of social laws
so we thrive in harmony of respect.
© Surazeus
2019 02 19
Twisted among jagged rocks and thick hedge
of roseless bushes bristling with sharp thorns
I find fallen angel with broken wings,
so I carry her along railroad tracks,
past steel and brick factories belching smoke,
then through tangled fence of twisted barbed wire.
Kneeling on shore of black polluted river
that slurries between clusters of glass towers,
I lay fallen angel with broken wings
with gentle care on yellow matted weeds,
then wash blood and mud off her freckled face
with tears of sorrow flowing from my eyes.
Through rancid smog that hangs over swamp sludge,
six wizards in black robes, who bear dream wands
carved from bones of dragons in putrid caves,
stride splashing through roseless bushes of thorns
to form circle around our fallen angel,
then throw back their hoods and gaze at her face.
Edgar Allan Poe mends her broken wings
by waving twelve raven feathers in circles,
Charles Baudelaire restores light of her mind
by polishing her eyes with lemon juice,
and Paul Verlaine tends her feet bruised from stones
by rubbing leaves from black oaks on her soles.
Percy Bysshe Shelley sparks her beating heart
by breathing west wind through her soft red lips,
Stephane Mallarme heals scratches from thorns
by smearing on eternal snow of stars,
and Arthur Rimbaud bathes her tangled hair
with sea-salted words of delirium.
Lifting her up again in cradling arms,
I bear fallen angel, healed by their hands,
through city streets crowded with listless souls
who wander blind as they moan tuneless prayers,
to fountain before the government palace,
while six wizards form a protective circle.
Guillaume Apollinaire dips horse-hair brush
in blood of my heart to write on her breast
pentagram with circles of the Kabbalah,
and Rainer Maria Rilke plucks petals
from blood-red roses like butterfly wings
and places them sticking to her soft skin.
Red rose petals transform into silk gown,
so I slip the angel wings from her shoulders
when she rises in brisk breeze from the sea,
and hold her hand as we together climb
thirteen steps to top of the pyramid
where she stands before tall black obelisk.
Spreading both arms wide like wings of the swan,
Astarte lifts crystal ball toward black sky
and chants melodious words of ancient spells
till First Flash of the Big Bang flares forth hot
in blazing vision to reveal creation
when Egg Eye expands into the White Whole.
Eight wizards transform into star-white ravens
that fly seven times around her bright head
then spiral down into frame of my skull
to flash eidolic glamor through my brain,
weaving vast galaxies in neural network
which conjures virtual model of our world.
Spirit of Liberty, bearing sharp sword
and scales of justice, stands on temple porch
to inspire despondent hearts of lost souls
with vibrant vision of our new world order
where every person lives by their free will
with equal rights in aegis of the law.
Our fallen angel of true Liberty,
though beaten and abused by greedy tyrants,
rises reborn from ashes of world war
and leads the working people of the world
to create new system of social laws
so we thrive in harmony of respect.
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