Mad Mountain Seer
© Surazeus
2025 03 10

In halflight of the rainy afternoon
I halfdream about the mad mountain seer
who travels from his village in Peru
to fight cruel fascists in streets of Paris
where the young mother nurses her new child
who gives him her hope chest of pulsing stars.

Wild hound of his heart escapes prison cell
to race among blood-stained poplars of faith
where the ancient shepherd Jesus holds high
torch of liberty with flame of desire
almost snuffed out by brutal winds of war
that swirls dirt from newly-heaped mounds of graves.

Young weaver girl with factory-wounded hands
builds fragile home from cracked bones of dead gods
on desolate shore of the lonely stream
where the mountain seer carves magic-spell runes
on shells of turtles found on the sea strand
by the young mother who nurses her child.

Extending hand made of water and fear
to graft bad fruit on pine of languid hope,
the mountain seer, anchored by dirty clothes,
lumbers through festival of skeletons
to drumbeats and flute-wails among red tents
where jesters and ballerinas make love.

Exalted unity of hungry spies
that fuels singular beat of his heart,
urges the mountain seer to talk to God,
so he shouts questions at the empty sky
about why people must suffer to live
when serpents writhe from shadows of false hope.

Rain falls on every city in the world
with dirty tears of mothers seeking food
while mad troubadours howl thunderous hymns
to solve the human cipher of our love
with sorcery of positive desire
though we float in our coffins full of rain.

Meeting Osiris by the border wall
that divides land of life from nought of death,
the mountain seer asks for inheritance
which he deserves from his pious ancestors
hidden in the electric dream machine
which he invents from stolen words of love.

Crimson crown of Jesus huge as the moon
glows with tragic sweetness of emeralds
above pulsing brain of the mountain seer
who drinks blue wine from the goblet of fire,
then wails mercurial psalms of holy faith
that still poisons his haughty gypsy heart.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus hangs out with Cesar Vallejo in the Paris Cafe, discussing the rights of workers trampled by soldiers of the corporate monarchs.

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