Tortured Poets Department

Tortured Poets Department
© Surazeus
2024 02 05

Brooding at oak desk in old haunted house 
where ghosts of the dead whisper bleak despair, 
I dip raven-feather quill in red ink 
from angel blood, and trace my wounds in words 
that highlight sufferings of the human soul, 
at work in the Tortured Poets Department. 

Lingering among tombstones in the graveyard 
so weathered by rain the names of the dead 
have been erased from human memory, 
I invent miserable lives for their ghosts 
who wander as zombies in fairy tales 
written by the Tortured Poets Department. 

Lying alone in new silk gown of hope 
on my soft bed that floats among bright clouds, 
I long for you to break through castle walls 
and fill me with pure spirit of your love, 
though you have fallen from my tower window 
to invade the Tortured Poets Department. 

Drinking absinthe brewed from demon blood 
at cracked table in the smoky cafe, 
I sing heart-aching love hymn to my Muse 
disguised as wrinkle-faced whore in red dress 
who beams as she dances before the crowd 
off work from the Tortured Poets Department. 

Gazing at thunderclouds over the bay 
from window in high Duino Castle tower, 
I shiver at embrace of divine terror, 
then cry out to angels who cannot hear 
my wordless elegy shatter false faith, 
alone in the Tortured Poets Department. 

Musing on beauty of my lost Lenore 
whose body rots entombed by the wild sea, 
I glare at black Raven of Nevermore 
who mocks my angst above my chamber door 
by repeating verses of poems I wrote, 
exiled from the Tortured Poets Department. 

Stepping from Carriage of Eternity 
after my dinner date with Death in Hades, 
I twirl with joy in orchard of peach trees, 
and sing with God Toad in the lonely swamp 
with my feelings of pain in Tomb of Time, 
still stuck in the Tortured Poets Department. 

Strumming guitar in rain by city gate 
to sing about the Calculator Man, 
I prophesy thirteenth coming of Ishtar 
sent by Sun Spider to unite the Earth, 
till she promotes me when I graduate 
at last from the Tortured Poets Department.