Fortune Does Not Apply
© Surazeus
2025 10 14

To prove fortune does not apply to me
I break keys off the typewriter with pliers
and scatter them as seeds in dusty soil
where they spring into novelists with pens
who cut their wrists and bleed words into books
about sad women who carry white roses.

Stuck in the black house on the busy road,
bound in place by red shadows of the night,
I enter lives of strangers as they pass
to hear their sorrows faint as withered leaves
that float near fractured surface of the mirror,
wrapped in form of suffering we endure.

Though my body was wounded long ago
I refuse to revenge myself with hate
because I live instead without concern
for whether anyone loves me or not
since I can distinguish desire from need,
creating houses based on bitterness.

Eccentric torment of forgotten hope
molds twisted forms of angry human souls
who imitate tall writhing trees of fear,
yet smell sweet scent of rosemary and thyme
that bloom in window boxes after rain
though we compete against our better selves.

Flowers on hills glitter with morning dew
while people driving cars crash into rage
that shatters civic pride in stolen wealth
each time the sun reveals beauty of death
concealed by lies on television shows
till snow shrouds everything in absent faith.

Buoyant by nature of attentive love,
we travel to museums filled with masks
that gods once wore on pyramids of power
where children now write their true secret names
with curving letters of blood on flat stones
which substitutes the image for the face.

I see the world around me with glass eyes
which I forge from childhood anxieties
concealed in memories of the silver sky
that weigh my brain with moments of regret
more bright that stars that gleam on fretful lakes
till I can see the world as it is now.

I watch strange lights of Heaven bleed new words
so I know nothing by my steady breath
when I exchange contempt for tense respect
as rain streams along landscape of my body
where grief and happiness share clever tales
which proves fortune does not apply to me.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/10/…

Orpheus argues with Hamlet that fortune only applies to those tormented by guilt for hurting people through arrogance of selfish greed.

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