Minstrel Of Holy Romance

Minstrel Of Holy Romance
© Surazeus
2024 10 25

Inside conceptual framework of my head 
the kitchen goddess bakes hot loaf of bread 
from wheat her mother Ceres harvested 
to feed the jester who is talented 
with special insight in dreams of the heart 
that keep our bodies from falling apart. 

After she finishes her vaudeville act, 
breaking heart of the clown with subtle tact, 
she hides behind the curtain without mask 
as Tambo and Mister Bones, sharing flask 
of wine, snap sly jokes across the soul void 
with artificial laugh of the android. 

With no integrated Ego on stage 
to process spark of Achillean rage, 
my Conscience and my Id chat about Death 
while Buddha teaches me the Cosmic Breath 
till I transform through Dionysian dance 
into the Minstrel of holy romance. 

While I lie for one hour on Couch of Truth 
I confess my deal as messiah sleuth 
I made with the Devil in blue suede shoes 
to analyze the latest global news 
by telling anecdotes of my childhood 
eating holy mushrooms in Raven Wood. 

When she walks in strange beauty of the night, 
eyes brilliant with jewels of divine light, 
I want to hold her in my loving arms, 
but my mind is enchanted by her charms, 
so I search for the human in her soul 
because true love is my ultimate goal. 

The kitchen goddess with ten thousand hands 
creates the universe of fertile lands 
which maintains progress of society 
through truth and justice of democracy, 
because women do the work of the world 
which functions to support the cosmic herald. 

Ignoring advice of my therapist, 
I purchase statue made of amethyst 
showing good and bad angels of my mind 
who balance my persona love designed 
as each ancestor bonded with their mate 
through random choices that became my fate. 

As minstrel strumming lyre of Mercury 
I recite my own tragic comedy 
to find the universal truth of life 
in how I overcome my psychic strife 
to find in timeless void of nothingness 
weird secret of conceptual happiness.