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.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/06/…

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

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