Land Without History

Land Without History
© Surazeus
2025 01 20

When he speaks with compound voice of the wise, 
Robert dips hands in the same river twice 
to change his position on world chessboard 
in tandem with caged luminosity, 
building this pioneer democracy 
strictly contrived through capital accord. 

Afraid of stumbling over helpless souls 
scattered along spiral highways of Hell, 
Robert reaches out to help the damned stand 
dizzy on precipice of social change, 
grasps twisted hands of suicidal trees, 
and traces tragic lifelines on their palms. 

If he splinters his mind in mirror shards 
to rejoin infinite flash of dark shadows, 
Robert expresses overfevered zeal 
to preach new gospel of the libertine 
trapped in quick backflow of the River Styx 
where arrogant stars transform into fish. 

Endless variations of stark satire 
scatter snowflakes on loyal mountain slopes 
to support mission of the urban clown 
who steals jeweled eyes from statues of dead gods 
unable to swipe tangled roots of truth 
opposed to currency of harsh decrees. 

Ghosts of the war-dead with hideous masks 
crawl through concrete ruins of bombed-out towns 
to find the only king without his sword 
hanging crucified on electric pole 
who asks us to observe old exploding stars 
while we walk the tightrope of justice scorned. 

Stumbling half-drunk on lost highway of hope, 
Robert searches for bright sword in the stone, 
with evil dispensation of clean hands, 
and groans, hung over iron rails of the bridge, 
to laugh about strangeness of the huge sky, 
then denies time stops for the insolent. 

Through agility of elastic faith, 
coiled tight with springs of his eccentric watch, 
Robert steals beauty from horror of life 
to paint verses with blood on window glass 
fractured by telephone rings of false peace, 
till dawn screams alarm in his wounded flesh. 

Unable to stand for the final round 
in holy fight against fraught loneliness, 
Robert admits to avarice of hope 
for victory of justice against the tyrant, 
so people escaping bullies with guns 
may live in this land without history.