Encode Weird Story

Encode Weird Story
© Surazeus
2024 08 03

One sultry summer night some years ago 
when I met old college friends in the bar 
by the sea on the wrong side of the tracks, 
I wanted to tell them the saddest tale 
about children who suffer, yet survive, 
bombs blowing their world into smithereens. 

But anguish of their suffering tears my heart 
with such terrible sorrow of despair 
that all I could do was mumble some words 
about brokenness while drinking cold beer, 
then had to leave without bidding farewell, 
and stumbled down endless maze of dark streets. 

I got so lost in vast labyrinth of myth, 
attempting to find solitary way 
back to paradise lost in muggy smog, 
that I think I tumbled into the sea, 
but landed in the boat Alastor stole 
that turned into the chapel on the plain. 

I have to tell this story in past tense 
because I remember it happened once, 
but you accuse me of telling you lies, 
as the unreliable narrator 
professors teach young writers to employ 
to twist the fairy tale of the real world. 

Anyway, I was stuck inside the church 
floating on flood of oil drowning old gods, 
where the worshippers in dresses and suits 
were faceless robots with camera eyes, 
and the preacher was the weird smiling clown 
who laughs with mockery of bitter tears. 

I want to hide strange feelings of despair 
that drive my mind insane with shocking fear 
so I encode weird story of my life 
with cultural stereotypes of characters 
novels and movies depict as folk heroes 
who suffer as they struggle to survive. 

I almost forgot original point 
is to decry injustice of attack 
when the strong and the rich employ their status 
to control the weak and oppress the poor 
who would revolt if they could but unite 
with purpose to oppose their tyranny. 

So when the Prosecutor with bright eyes 
appears with Sword of Justice in her hand, 
we follow Stars and Stripes of Liberty 
to overthrow the cruel patriarchy 
so every soul can exercise their right 
to live well as they will, if they harm none.