New Glass Masks
2017 09 10
I spent over fifty years of my life
deleting from the program of my brain
conspiracy theories and fantasies
of religion and politics to clear
my dreaming mind of superstitious lies.
When I shot the steel bullet of defiance
straight into the winds of Hurricane Irma
the laughing god Nerthus snatched it from death
and hurled it back into my dreaming brain
that penetrates the television screen.
When I was still a curious boy in Texas
I learned to ride the tall eight-legged horse
from one-eyed Wild Bill Pecos and his wife
so I can ride the hurricane to Heaven,
but when I first saw red-haired Skathi ski
Parnassus Mountain in the swirling snow
I rose from darkness at the break of dawn
and chanted scathing curses at the giant.
The gaunt woman with electric-wire hair
who lies on the high cliff of crumbling hope
grasps the lightning bolt, and binds writhing power
in naked beating of my aching heart
so her daughter can teach me arcane art
of carving runes to capture dreams of eyes.
Though all the puzzle pieces carved by time
that represent archetypes of society
were scattered far by the hurricane winds
I will explore remote lands of this Earth
till I find all twelve fragments of Osiris
so Doctor Frankenstein in tower of glass
can reassemble my body from dreams.
I look into your eyes in search for truth
but all I find are glimmers of my soul
reflected back by mirror of despair,
so I breathe deep the ocean-scented air.
Looking like my mother when she was young,
Sappho strums gold lyre gleaming on her lap
and sings sweet haunting melodies of hope
she heard whispered in the hurricane winds
that swirl through the open door of my eyes
and shatter illusions of human power.
I follow Orville Wright to the white beach
and watch him fly like Icarus to Heaven
and soar above the swirling hurricane
who teaches us the secrets of the void
so when I walk the Grand Canyon at dusk
the oldest woman in the world will rise
from the grave and teach me how to chant spells.
When the hurricane blows over my town
I will sit on the lawn of broken skulls
and listen to the eerie silence wail
voices of women in psychiatric wards
who cry out for escape from mundane lives
so I give them all new glass masks to wear.
#Poem #Poetry #Elegy #Hurricane #HurricaneIrma #Irma #Ballad #Song #USA #LostEmpire #Theater
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