Doors Of Weeping Ghosts
© Surazeus
2026 05 21

Every house in every city on Earth
is guarded well by doors of weeping ghosts
that hum with wordless voices of the past,
so I wonder if my brain consciousness
is more artificial in how it dreams
human memories as if they are my own.

Though the Earth seems to swallow all our tales,
and hide them in our doors of weeping ghosts,
we slyly search for serpent in the grove
to answer riddles born of intellect
so we can find the secret key of lies
that may release our memories from the rain.

The wind that hums with hunger of the earth,
trapped by despair in doors of weeping ghosts,
never turns kind from mercy of the clouds,
yet when it speaks the names of those we love
we dare record them on old temple walls
so our descendants may remember them.

She smiles at me with sunrise over hills
so I may unlock doors of weeping ghosts
who hide in shadows that our bodies cast
so we feel shiver of their hidden pain
since suffering teaches us to understand
cost of memories we dare not leave behind.

While I strum broken lyre of Mercury
that carves our thoughts on doors of weeping ghosts,
I channel tales of tongueless characters
who wander lost in pages of old books
till my voice resurrects their souls from words
and gives them life in hearts of listeners.

Few would forget stark cries of anxious hope
that still vibrate from doors of weeping ghosts
each time we dare approach with reticence
from calm respect for bitter rage at death
to enter hollow hearts of fortitude
and measure memories we sold long ago.

Yet Arabella climbs the broken stairs
with hope to open doors of weeping ghosts
against authority of fearful men
who wish to hide vile secrets they conceal,
though cracks in walls of faith cannot dispel
divine rays that expose vexatious truths.

I number every home on signless road
with rooms enclosed by doors of weeping ghosts
to map our global maze of morbid myths
that present tales of failure and success,
though Death heaps all our bodies in one grave
while Earth keeps spinning in the songless void.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus greets people at Home Depot and sells them doors of weeping ghosts which he installs in their homes with instruction manual to translate their wails of sorrow.

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