Broken Mirror Shards

Broken Mirror Shards
© Surazeus
2023 09 17

With angel wings of broken mirror shards 
I walk the signless road of beautiful 
to evade false fate of her tarot cards 
as fierce rebel against the dutiful 
by stealing cold plums from the wet black bough 
as prom queen riding the pretty-faced cow. 

Proclaiming passion of the sounding sea, 
the Jingle Man dancing in long black coat 
names me his beautiful Annabel Lee 
which causes my wingless spirit to float 
over the red wheel barrow glazed with rain 
beside the white chickens that haunt my brain. 

Perched on the bust of Pallas at midnight, 
the Raven glaring in my gloom-black heart 
leads me to Plutonian shore by moonlight 
so I can complete my world-history chart, 
till with the Walrus and the Carpenter 
I eat oysters roasted by Lucifer. 

Among large heap of broken images 
where crickets chat about philosophy 
I photograph the weeping witnesses 
who worship wizard of cartography, 
then wait in Hyacinth garden alone 
for Iseult to find the Sorcerer Stone. 

With shining jewel in her open hands 
Iseult leads me to Library of Ghosts 
where tales of heroes from forgotten lands 
are twisted by agenda of our hosts 
who brainwash children with religious lies 
invented by faceless industrial spies. 

Lost in the waste land of cultural ideals, 
we crowd huge stadium for the football game 
to colonize Eden with wagon wheels 
through intense contest of national fame, 
the only immortality we seek 
since poet laurels are won by the meek. 

Still deep in shady sadness of the vale, 
where Saturn slumbers twenty thousand years, 
Ishmael explains how he tamed the white whale 
till Lamia gives him grail of angel tears, 
then we paint marble statues of dead gods 
while Janus dances with Plutonium rods. 

With angel wings of broken mirror shards 
I strut glass runways at wild fashion shows 
to shamelessly flirt with angelic guards 
who tend the Tree of Knowledge while it grows 
huge enough to overshadow our world 
in time for coming of the Cosmic Herald.