We Eat Bitter Bread

We Eat Bitter Bread
© Surazeus
2024 08 11

Though I mistake red blazing sunset light, 
mirrored in windows of numberless homes, 
for the nuclear-eyed angel Gabriel 
who stands sentinel over war-torn lands, 
I stalk the world alone with naked books 
erupting in flames from my open hands. 

When we embrace with our bodies, deformed 
by mountains and lakes of writhing desire, 
we hear strange weeping of the hungry world 
in cast-steel flowers that explode from soil 
with terrible yearning of rancid hope 
that pounds at jeweled gates of paradise. 

With eager leap of arrogant gazelles 
we race screaming over green pulsing hills 
along meandering rivers where blind ghosts 
excite the untamed horses of chess boards 
who understand why we strip off our clothes 
and dance to wake from silence of cracked stones. 

Rising on bat wings from transparent waves 
that writhe in bottomless ocean of souls, 
we invent the solid ground of ancient truth 
on which we walk to find the Holy Land 
where blood of angels nurtures vampire gods 
who reign in churches built of glassy bones. 

From ruins of cities, forged with steel beams 
by blue-eyed Vikings from snow-frosted fjords, 
we build enormous pyramid of skulls 
that flicker dreams of television screens 
designed by pilots of bomb-dropping planes 
who descend from Heaven on silver wings. 

Huge tapestries hanging on castle walls, 
that depict national heroes with guns 
shooting women and children with disgust, 
are torn down by the hands of Lucifer 
who weeps over dank grave of Melusine, 
just as I am born from weft of their souls. 

Though I am fathomless to friends I lost, 
and wander signless roads of everywhere 
as stranger haunted by shadows of love, 
your eyes hold distance of the nevermore 
because the frantic knocking at my door 
is my own heart locked out in moonless night. 

My cerulean piano of the sky, 
composed of ice carved from glaciers of faith, 
lies broken in dark basement of the church 
where wild piano player of the cave 
is crucified before the laughing crowd, 
so we eat bitter bread in doorless rooms.