Quest In The Waste Land

Quest In The Waste Land
© Surazeus
2023 05 31

If I wake up at dawn and feel myself 
fall off the merry-go-round of the mind 
then words I write will vacuum my mute soul 
down into bottomless void of the book 
so I become characters of old tales 
people in the future will idolize. 

So I will walk lush hills of daffodils 
to chat with spirit of the Evermind 
who beams memories of other human beings 
into my brain as dreams my mind designs 
which makes me forget who I really am 
as I wear masks of long-forgotten gods. 

Holding hands with the woman I love most, 
I walk away from gates of paradise 
to wander signless road on sacred quest 
through maze of myths past dark satanic mills 
till we arrive at Pandaemonium 
where we find work in factories making cars. 

I keep my cellular phone on my belt 
in case God calls me to talk about life 
because he attempts to understand why 
mortals fight wars with each other to live 
free from oppression of the faceless rich 

When hordes of angry boys with assault rifles 
storm gates of Heaven to overthrow God, 
Minerva, warrior queen with shining sword, 
fights Mars to wear the crown of Jupiter 
that shimmers bright in pool of human blood 
till Narcissus screams in void of his heart. 

At night the frail flame of the candle shines 
brighter than the sun with glory of truth 
so I search for lost refugees of war 
to lead them from the sinking boat of faith 
for the hill we climb leads to paradise 
where Nobody croaks in temple of ghosts. 

Though ghosts of all the poets in the world, 
who ever lived and sang in spin of time, 
haunt me each night I write riddles of truth 
I feel at peace with anguish of despair 
that motivates my quest in the waste land 
to find the fountain of the wingless horse. 

While lounging in the plum tree by the lake, 
among pink petals on the wet black bough, 
I pose as archaic torso of Apollo 
to cogitate how I will change my life 
while I strum guitar in the midnight rain 
and sing to Lucy in the sky with diamonds.