Blast Of Hateful Bombs
© Surazeus
2025 06 18

These eyes that connect my mind to the world,
once plump as grapes newly swelling from vines,
wither and wrinkle in bright heat of truth
so events I observe on stage of fear
contract into fractured shards of lost faith
which I assemble in puzzles of hope.

Through crackled swirl of smoke from blasting bombs
I see young woman with long tangled hair
cry out for beauty of the shattered world
to pursue shadows with freedom of light,
but Parnia falls from Heaven on torn wings
as dying star that sizzles in my heart.

Bearing cinders of the angel with care,
I trudge along the empty asphalt road,
hoping to preserve flame of her lost soul
long enough to help her reincarnate
in soulless robot with computer brain
programmed to calculate safe way of fate.

Kneeling before giant mushroom of hope,
I place fragile flame of angelic soul
in egg that gleams before the moon-eyed toad,
then chant occultic spells of ardency
to channel psychic beams of energy
refracting light through prism of my heart.

Strange scarlet glow inside the pulsing egg
congeals eclectic rays of ancient stars
to fictile body molded from moist clay
that transforms into angel with twelve wings
who rises tall from rancid muck of Earth
to soar on rainbow wings above storm clouds.

Yet when I blink to clear view of my eyes,
I see conceptual face of my soul mate
as normal woman sitting at my side
who glances up from book of poems she reads
and asks me if I want something to eat,
so I squeeze her hand and smile with delight.

Though woman I love as queen of our home
dwells safely in firm shelter of my care,
thousands of women in far distant lands
lie dead or wounded in rubble of faith,
or wander traumatized in cluttered streets,
because cruel men blast their world views with bombs.

My wife and her best friends with sparkling eyes
stroll together in long wind-fluttered gowns
on white-sand beach beside blue shimmering sea,
sweet vision of our secret paradise
that vanishes at blast of hateful bombs
which pierce my eyes with shrapnel of despair.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/06/…

Orpheus finds Ophelia gravely wounded in rubble of their home after the tyrant sends planes to bomb their town into rebellious submission.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism