Face Behind The Mask
© Surazeus
2025 08 28

Trust laughs at how rain floods the silver plain
with solid evidence of brutal faith
despite foul murder by the lovely host
who putters about in garden of flowers
that bloom from bodies buried in the soil
of thieves who invaded her cottage at night.

Rain patters roof of the crooked hotel
perched daintily atop the skull-round hill
where battered black car with gleaming headlights
parks halfway up on the narrow sidewalk,
windshield wipers squeaking on fractured glass,
watched by the raven on the broken sign.

Black boots crunch shards of shattered window glass
as Samuel pushes open old oak door
and steps into the lobby with one table
lit dimly by one almost-burned out candle
that flickers madly in the eerie gloom
to highlight wrinkled face of the old witch.

One eye blue as the sea after the storm
glares up at gaunt face of the visitor
who smiles with sinister joy of the jester
wearing black fedora and black trench coat
as he asks if she knows the pastor named Fink,
but she just taps the sign-in book and sneers.

The young girl with long blond hair and green eyes,
who wears cute yellow dress and pink felt hat,
descends the narrow stairs beside the desk,
then smiles brightly at the jester in black
as she unfolds the red rose of her hand
to reveal the gold grail studded with jewels.

Though he reaches hand to acquire the grail,
the star-eyed girl whispers with thunder-soft voice
that echoes solemn prophecy of fate
how time will readjust conceptual frame
programming how our human brains perceive,
which transforms the grail into the black owl.

The lovely host appears with tray of tea
so they all sit at round table of faith,
the jester, the girl, the witch, and the host,
to play recurring game of psychic chess
till jester reveals his face behind the mask
to be detective from the court of Hell.

While the wily detective without his mask
weaves tapestry of crime from random clues,
the three fates unravel web of his brain
in writhing tendrils that connect the stars
through our enormous galaxy in swirl
of singing angels when he tries to run.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/08/…

Orpheus asks the lovely host if she can show him where she buried the bodies in her garden of beautiful fragile flowers, and she smiles.

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