Raised Fist Of Desire
© Surazeus
2026 01 31

Glass city clenches raised fist of desire
with knuckles whitened by harsh winter light
that signs its name in smoke along gray docks
with brute authority of iron rules
that click sharp as rosary beads in the head,
each prayer grim bargain struck with appetite.

Since power prefers mirror of respect
instead of human face that hides intent,
it studies angled posture of slow grins
that pass for brave conviction on the stage
where mortals portray gods with human grace
before assassination of the heart.

Power sits at home in slippers and robe,
and sips hot tea while counting silver spoons
passed down as heritage from merchant kings
when fathers harden sons with silver coins
as profits kept in ledgers by the hearth
through blessings rationed thin on winter nights.

History enters hall of haughty tycoons,
dragging rusty anchor through living rooms,
to offer glass of wine with palsied hand
to faithful dogs who always bark on cue,
while those who bite the feeding hand will bleed
black tears of sorrow in the surging sea.

Young heroes seeking glory in the game
may trip on names and dates of broken vows
when they attempt to wake from gold-filled vault
blind ghost of Fortune who requires their hand
in bargain with the Devil bought with hope
to steal the pot of truth from leprechauns.

Cracked radio recites weird measured calm
of aching violins that makes wives cry,
while sirens teach hard streets the sharper truth
that strength and wiles will always win the day
in second civil war to rule the world
fought long between the Joker and the Thief.

Shy savior who appears from swirling smoke
feels power pulse from bruise beneath his skin
as weather front that chooses who will freeze
which leaves dark print of ash at tender touch,
yet when he wields lost sword of just reward
his bullhorn voice is silenced by cruel lies.

Still when he stands on tower of lost faith,
stripped of awe at grand principles of good,
he feels brute power shiver with torn wings
as moth caught in vast spider web of rage,
strange truth that dies when he names it aloud,
yet rises strong when he names it again.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus wander streets of Boston covered in endless swirls of delusional snow to find the new messiah who will free the world from tyranny.

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