Our Thanksgiving Meals © Surazeus 2024 11 28 The yellow banana taped to the wall lures me straight into its conceptual trap when I think about all the governments our intelligence agents overthrew so banana republics would obey kings of fruit companies raking in cash. People who control land producing fruit feast in halls of power with mirror walls that reflect beauty of their privilege while immigrants from southern jungle hills, controlled by gangsters selling cash cocaine, pick crops we eat at our Thanksgiving meals. These propaganda images reveal unequal status that always prevails between those whose ancestors stole the land and those whose hands produce food we eat, so we gather to watch the football game where Cowboys always beat the Indians. After we stop beating each other up with guilt trips for crimes our ancestors did, we can watch the new superhero film where Captain America saves the world from monstrous aliens who suck our souls, then pray for Jesus to return to Earth. When ship I sail across Atlantic waves splinters on reefs off lush welcoming shores, I swim through curling surge of futile hope to stand gasping for breath on moon-gold sand, then search for Liberty on pyramid holding Light of Freedom and Book of Names. Bright beacon of Liberty shines in gloom that guides my rough way across the waste land to build in land of opportunity new way of life where I keep what I earn after escaping tyranny of kings who fight each other for the Crown of Christ. Throw all these bromides in the swirling sea to banish Hope that blinds my eager eyes so I can steal land in the wilderness to replace land the king stole from my clan and build new Eden in the Promised Land till the tyrant comes and steals that land too. I have wandered lands of Zarathia four hundred years from sea to shining sea, but still I am the homeless refugee forever searching for the Holy Grail that glows in hands of the woman I love who prepares feast for us to share in thanks.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus welcomes huge crowd of refugees from hundreds of wars around the world to share our Thanksgiving meal while Apollo performs songs.
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