Museum Of Idols That Cry
© Surazeus
2026 03 01

Alive in drafty castle of my heart,
I play both king and dragon of desire
within the frame of fables liars built
to credit those who provide them with food
with miracles no human could perform
till my white horse drowns in river of change.

Eager to reclaim my inheritance,
hidden near the River Gyndes by time,
I leave behind this land of broken dreams
which my ancestors invaded with greed,
but everywhere I go in this world now
new people live on my ancestral lands.

When he plucks out my heart with hungry hope
to find what syncopates our fertile love,
he breaks its clock of passionate desire
which cuts taut chord of our mutual song
so now I cannot articulate well
trust shattered by aggressive lust to own.

Indestructible ship of my brave heart,
shackled to the creaking dock of desire,
wrenches at ropes of duty to assert
right to sail pulsing waves of curious faith,
but blinding passion for treasure regained
traps my wingless soul in fake fairy tales.

Bright flame that licks and fawns at mirror mind
with merciless respect for wordless smiles,
throws fish of my heart back in the wild sea,
so I ascend Arctic mountains of hope
to sell costumes for my outdated selves
to faceless ghosts of famous movie stars.

Sinuous orchids in gardens of skulls
shelter refugees from exploding bombs
who dream of clear water hiding pure gems,
though I mail my book of forgotten lore
to willow witch behind the theater
whose bodiless owl understands my tricks.

Yet pitchforked farmer in lush daisied field
struggles through blackthorn thicket of concern
to nine-pooled fen where swirling mist conceals
wounded god who clutches turtle-shell lyre
while declaring this vale of tears is his
to build museum of idols that cry.

I marvel at the brutal nonchalance
of Mother Nature who creates our souls
from tangled sunrays of hazardous hope
with racketing flux of religious faith
that taunts our fake heroes to prove themselves
by ransacking libraries of dead gods.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/03/…

Orpheus finds Sylvia gathering blackberries along the River Gyndes where they wade together in shallow waters of the secret desire to understand.

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