Museum Of The Broken Mask
© Surazeus
2025 10 04

If I feel the sudden impulse to sing,
I will scatter my bones in the wheat field
where no one but the sad scarecrow has walked
more than three hundred years of social change
so elves and nymphs may spring from fertile soil
to dance at the Super Bowl halftime show.

If my spirit animal would appear
to teach me secret of physical space,
I might design the factories and ships
my brothers could use to conquer the world
using the Mercator projection map
to sail straight across the sea to new shores.

I sail the blue boat of my aching heart
across the future shameful sea of faith
to study hunger of the human soul
through psychic resonator of concern
by smuggling treasures of lost empires home
to stock museum of the broken mask.

Reluctant to perform as optimist,
I like awake beneath the starless sky,
and count the humans living on this globe
who leave their faces hanging on home doors
as we design new theories about hope
for children who draw visions at dark schools.

Yet no one listens to the desert god
who howls solemn hymns on the radio
in preparation for the next world war
that we must fight against cruel oligarchs
who charge taxes for water and sunlight
so we eat stew of bones and bitter truths.

Though if feels as if the rocks and the clouds
are also dying through weird social change,
we call each other on the telephone
that translates voices into ocean waves,
so we drive across the country of hope
to listen to our blind god sing the blues.

Lost in rugged hills of integrity
where pine trees discuss old philosophy,
we find wind-erased tomb of the first god,
whom men once worshipped on the ziggurat,
who welcomed homeless migrants to the feast,
except the witch who lingers on the bridge.

Connected by network of singing wires,
that weave old prophecies in movie plots,
we crowd museum of the broken mask
where ravens gather on idols of gods
though every human in America
goes fishing on the river of glass skulls.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus contemplates the mystery of the universe as he scrolls through photos he took in the museum of the broken mask while he fishes on the Mississippi River shore.

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