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Wednesday, June 18, 2025

Church Of Arrogant Doors

Church Of Arrogant Doors
© Surazeus
2025 06 18

Despite the nothingness of rotting apples 
people gather in small groups by the lake 
to share anecdotes of their aching hearts 
while giving each other boxes of dreams 
that flutter away in the gust of wind 
which erases everything they should know. 

The broken statue in the large town square 
watches them go about their daily lives 
with diamond eyes that see dreams of their brains 
washed clean by eagerness of evening rain 
at the hour when only the one-armed boy 
keeps watch by the fountain full of snakes. 

Yet the man on the horse with silver eyes 
appears at dawn with the new book of lies 
which he opens to investigate how 
happy citizens think about the bees 
swarming from the church of arrogant doors, 
distracted by eerie cry of the owl. 

Though we drive wagons for ten thousand years, 
that harnessed horses of the windy plains, 
we now drive piston-engine cars of fate, 
those time machines of urgent wizardry 
we race across the vastness of the world 
forever chasing rainbows to find gold. 

When monstrous demon of excessive greed 
haunts the bright castle shining on the hill 
till the caring king goes mad with sharp grief, 
the glamorous vampire with blood-painted face 
dispels doubt from the hearts of citizens 
with gleaming pearl of pure draconic truth. 

No guardian angel with electric wings 
hovers over the small village by the lake 
protected by brackish swamps of huge snakes, 
so I play spectator of charity 
to protect my people from thunder storm 
by dancing in the rain and shouting madly. 

The honest rooster wakes them all at dawn 
so they gather around corpse of the Hydra 
which I roast on the fire for all to eat 
delicious despair seasoned with sour sauce 
designed to reflect beauty of the heart 
so every person has their own address. 

Romantic realm of individual seers 
who wander mountain vales of hungry ghosts 
attracts the lone wolf from the empty church 
who paints portraits of gentle country folk 
which hang in the big city gallery 
to celebrate the paradise we lost. 



1 comment:

  1. Orpheus sits by the statue and paints portraits that glamorize the strange beautiful faces of people who live in the fishing village.

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