Angel Of Revenge
© Surazeus
2018 03 28
The shadow of the house that eats my soul
remembers how we used to play the tune
of bleeding moon in game of hide and seek
through door of words, so in the story book
I wander through the labyrinth of dead gods
who pretend they remember my real name.
The girl in the forest of talking trees
gives eyes to every child who wanders by
so at the round table of broken masks
they assemble all our lost memories
in painting smeared with blood of suicides
therefore she carves letters on stone church wall.
The book I found on river shore at dawn
conceals the true stories that people live
because they cannot find the shining key
which mirrors ghosts of people who have died
to save the ocean from demon of oil
who slithers sneering to preach word of God.
I pack red mud in large lattice of wood
then slide it in the oven of hot flames
to watch the flames dance with indifferent lust
while the priest in the large white marble church
preaches we will burn all eternity
if we accept not Jesus as World King.
Eight thousand years after we bury God
in unmarked grave where ravens chat of truth
his descendants pave asphalt parking lot
where people park cars by huge grocery store
so I walk nowhere in the dream-bright woods,
searching for clocks in the trunks of the oaks.
Helianthe was my mother who designed
body of atoms that generates soul
of my dreaming brain, so I found great cult
that worships her as Mother of Mankind
though I saw highways collapse from earthquake
when she descended on rainbow to Earth.
She holds the knife pressed against her wild heart
and hopes she will sprout a new pair of wings
so she can fly to heaven above clouds
and enter shining gate of paradise
but song of two birds distracts her mind
to listen for the music of the rain.
She disappears when she walks into rain
and shifts through flashing door between two worlds
united to fight tyrant in the tower,
then breaks every mask from people he killed,
releasing their atoms back to the void,
so she sits in the park and eats ice cream.
© Surazeus
2018 03 28
The shadow of the house that eats my soul
remembers how we used to play the tune
of bleeding moon in game of hide and seek
through door of words, so in the story book
I wander through the labyrinth of dead gods
who pretend they remember my real name.
The girl in the forest of talking trees
gives eyes to every child who wanders by
so at the round table of broken masks
they assemble all our lost memories
in painting smeared with blood of suicides
therefore she carves letters on stone church wall.
The book I found on river shore at dawn
conceals the true stories that people live
because they cannot find the shining key
which mirrors ghosts of people who have died
to save the ocean from demon of oil
who slithers sneering to preach word of God.
I pack red mud in large lattice of wood
then slide it in the oven of hot flames
to watch the flames dance with indifferent lust
while the priest in the large white marble church
preaches we will burn all eternity
if we accept not Jesus as World King.
Eight thousand years after we bury God
in unmarked grave where ravens chat of truth
his descendants pave asphalt parking lot
where people park cars by huge grocery store
so I walk nowhere in the dream-bright woods,
searching for clocks in the trunks of the oaks.
Helianthe was my mother who designed
body of atoms that generates soul
of my dreaming brain, so I found great cult
that worships her as Mother of Mankind
though I saw highways collapse from earthquake
when she descended on rainbow to Earth.
She holds the knife pressed against her wild heart
and hopes she will sprout a new pair of wings
so she can fly to heaven above clouds
and enter shining gate of paradise
but song of two birds distracts her mind
to listen for the music of the rain.
She disappears when she walks into rain
and shifts through flashing door between two worlds
united to fight tyrant in the tower,
then breaks every mask from people he killed,
releasing their atoms back to the void,
so she sits in the park and eats ice cream.
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