In Times Of War
© Surazeus
2025 02 09

In times of war the prophets all come out
and wander wind-swept streets with tangled hair,
then, with anguish in their eyes, sing and shout
about how doom and death are everywhere,
which causes everyone to be alarmed
when they would rather be happily charmed.

While Nostradamus in his ivory tower
prophesies how every tyrant will fall
after their sudden rise grasping for power,
the nameless jester writes spells on the wall
of church and bank in formulas of fate
that expose the king for his racist hate.

Yet everyone keeps driving in their cars
to earn just enough money to pay bills,
because fortunes are not defined by stars,
and no one wants to go back to the hills
to hunt for mushrooms and rabbits to eat,
but all are silent when the rich men cheat.

Though poetry we write with bleeding hands
makes nothing happen in valley of skulls,
we blow wind from our mouths across the lands
that challenge cowboys to wrestle gold bulls
worshipped by the people as god of wealth
who steals all their money with sneaky stealth.

Though Keats admires song of the nightingale
while lounging under the timeless plum tree,
I decry how everything is for sale
by oligarchs who fetter Liberty
when they invade public Garden of Eden
and build shopping malls to pave over Heaven.

Cold raindrops fall through our bodies of dreams
and blend with endless rivers of our tears,
then splatter back with mocking Mask of Seems
which cannot hide our heart-enshrouding fears,
yet songs we share in darkness of despair
beam bright at dawn with soul-reviving care.

For two centuries we built in our land
strong institutions for free governance,
but they crumble as castles made of sand,
destroyed by pirates with no reverence,
so corporate kings exploit the working poor
who cry out to the wounded matador.

In times of war the poets wander lost,
reciting through domestic quietude
quaint epiphanies of the Holy Ghost
to shore dream fragments in false fortitude,
till mermaid voices wake us in surprise
so we perform conceptual role as spies.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/02/…

Orpheus gathers lost prophets and poets of America in Temple of the Singing Skull to organize their resistance against pirates disguised as corporate kings.

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