Ghost Of My Lost Lover
© Surazeus
2025 10 31

Haunted by absence of people we love,
we disguise our souls with stereotypes
of people who existed in the past
so ghosts of our ancestors cannot find
exuberant homes of ephemeral faith
where we teach children how to play themselves.

If paper angels hanging from roof eaves
sing heavenly hymns of ephemeral faith,
bats may flock from huge abandoned warehouses
and transform into children with snake teeth
who want to understand math formulas
for calculating games that increase wealth.

Dressed as Saturn with sea-electric eyes,
I walk black asphalt street among tall oaks,
bare feet squishing thin orange leaves wet from rain,
to catch shooting stars with death-wrestling hands
and turn them into shadows in dark rooms
where faceless people talk to photographs.

Aware of every soul alive on Earth,
I walk toward white rectangle glow of light
to talk with sparrows in meadow of skulls
who understand assignment of the queen
to feed every child hungry for respect
who gathers wings of angels from wet grass.

Beneath black metal skies of rippling thoughts
we wear stiff plastic masks of long-dead gods
to harvest red clouds from silver trash cans
while Death walks beside us without sharp scythe
to wait before locked doors of the white church
where blind Rapunzel in the dark spire sings.

Sharp fever of poisonous flowers swirls,
buzzing from empty mirror of dark void
where Cain asks Persephone for the time
though she hides behind purple velvet drapes
to kiss grim murderer of the silk-white moon
while Jengu tends her wounds with gentle care.

Green raven wearing crystal mask of fate
consumes despair from hands of lonely kids
who hide harmonious stars in grumbling books
when blue spotted deer with attentive ears
leads them over white-stone bridge veiled with moss
toward faces of mothers floating in clouds.

I look around for ghost of my lost lover
but see cries of desolation in jars
floating on river of abandoned boats
because our souls echo in city wind
mocking the fool who crowns himself world king
since we all vote instead for Melusine.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus and Ophelia take their son Orion, dressed as a conservative politician, trick or treating in the wealthy neighborhood where no one has any candy to give the hungry homeless children of America.

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