Domestic Disquietude
© Surazeus
2025 05 06

Down the long eerie tunnel of the heart,
arched brick walls dripping tears of her dead friends,
Marie walks toward green glowing light of hope
in cheerful forest where the wood thrush sings
the most cheerful melodies of weird joy
that wake her domestic disquietude.

Household gods her ancestors left behind,
half-carved idols of faceless stone, wait mute
in small timeless house of rotting pine wood
for her to return from the signless road
and leave her sorrows in the broken drawers
where no one can find her dead butterflies.

Clean house of her heart where she hides her dreams
sings about the pain of hope she denies
by sewing dresses for the never-born
who play on the lawn by the empty street
to bury dead sparrows of grief with tulips
from which she drinks bitter tears of desire.

Each time she conjures twisted alphabets
to describe domestic disquietude,
Marie feels ghost of her body transfer
electric atoms weaving us as one
to flash inside the television screen
where ghosts reflect the sorrows of her life.

Sharp knives of her words she tries not to speak
reshape the narrative of social games
when they appear all over her clean house
with secret longing to extract from silence
thoughts of truth that her bitter love translates
from screams of rage to sad beautiful songs.

Metallic smell of frazzled power cords
sparks expectation of domestic bliss
to resist compulsion for eating portraits
of dead ancestors melting down white walls
with candle wax of visionary wisdom
though scissors dissolve into winter snow.

Our bodies are the gate for Mind of God
to enter constricted boundaries of time
so we can generate from fractured dreams
conceptual mask of social attitudes
when we perform new role our hearts compose
to swim against flooding tides of unchange.

When silence becomes faces of strange people
who ask about fruit falling from the sky,
we accept lesson of the burning boat
by leaving behind homeland of cruel disdain
and building new home on the river shore
where our children are mermaids who escape.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/05/…

Orpheus finds Ophelia sitting in the living room of their house, singing haunting melodies as she sews dresses for their daughters.

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