Saturnus By Tiber Stream
© Surazeus
2016 09 20
Lounging on lush shore of gold Tiber stream,
Saturnus strokes his beard of sprinkling rain
that falls from swirling clouds of his wild hair,
and laughs when Sylvia, skipping among flowers,
throws ripe apples into sweet honey juice
that bubbles in brass pot, gold as the sun
gleaming on meadows full of wheat and sheep
where Ceres swings sharp scythe as she chants spells
that transform me into Grandfather Time
so I see Cronus mirrored in my face.
All our ancestors, whose love made us real,
dream alive in virtual web of our minds,
guiding our way in drama of our lives
so every moment seared into their minds
of life and death they suffer and enjoy
beams bright within the mirror of my eyes,
so when I sit in sunlight among trees,
that bloom white petals and small apple buds,
I float in bliss of lost eternity
that rings with every chirp of lonesome birds.
Because these are not the real shining days
when the painted mask of monkeys and kings,
I wear to shield this wounded heart of steel,
that pulses vibrating waves of glass streams
from mountain waterfall of laughing fool,
crumbles in relentless wind of divine faith,
I stand at the open door of dry bones
that stands alone on the mountain of hope
and gaze at the jagged range cold wind carves
to form the eyeball of our spinning world.
Before I step through old door without home
to soar on aluminum wings of fear,
that blind Icarus loaned me for a fee,
I hold the round emerald in my hand
that Star Woman found in the sparkling pool
where she showed me how my face will appear
each year I grow older on road of life,
that winds through labyrinth across chess board,
to play game of thrones for the crown of gems
that links my mind to world computer brain.
Astride the giant pencil rocket broom,
I soar among the swirling clouds in flight
with eighty witches from the cave of gems
who change appearance of my plastic face
to mirror clear the face of every person
who ever walked our world since dawn of time
when first we crawled from lake of dreams to stretch
our hungry hands above our heads and grasp
the fruit of knowledge from the Tree of Life,
so I imitate the Many-Faced God.
But when I strum the lightning-flashing strings
bound on the blue guitar perched on my knee
I realize, while slouching in gold rain
to ruins of Jerusalem I built,
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow
glazed with rain water beside the white chickens
who lay golden eggs I sell at the market
where jester of the crucified god laughs
at how I stumble drunk from church of glass
where statues of angels stare blind at death.
Each moment in the drama of my life,
when I step forward on old creaking stage
before the eyes of people without names,
I see inside my eyes events unfold
when my ancestors played forgotten roles
in social calculation of staged ritual,
and then forget the lines of naked words
that my god-father assigned me to speak,
so I hide in the cave of shadows high
above our drowned city to write new bibles.
I stand upon the shore of broken hopes,
lashed by nefarious waves of Ocean song,
when night devours the world of changing forms,
and see the bright face of my mother clear
shining in the mirror of the iced moon,
and here lament my sophomoric spell
that calculates puzzle of paradise
designed by jubilation of desire,
then throw the Silmaril of true insight
into the surging waves that drown our land.
Then from the ruins of his temple hall,
that crumbles at the turning of our world,
Saturnus climbs up the stairway to Heaven
that arches like a rainbow among stars,
and scatters apple seeds on cement streets
so saplings sprout through cracks of empire strength,
then all our cities sea to shining sea
are swallowed by the roots of hungry trees
that change America to Onatah
where children dance in ring of shining stones.
From swirling mist of morning that gleams gold
in new electric dawn of fertile eggs
Star Woman appears to herald rebirth
of our ancient empire that sprang from Athens
so new age of Aquarius will shine
when the fruit girl with seven eyes returns
bearing water jar to fill hearts with love
and transforms Saturnus into her son
who rides swift horse across the wind-swept plain
and leads us to the Lake of Dreams we lost.
© Surazeus
2016 09 20
Lounging on lush shore of gold Tiber stream,
Saturnus strokes his beard of sprinkling rain
that falls from swirling clouds of his wild hair,
and laughs when Sylvia, skipping among flowers,
throws ripe apples into sweet honey juice
that bubbles in brass pot, gold as the sun
gleaming on meadows full of wheat and sheep
where Ceres swings sharp scythe as she chants spells
that transform me into Grandfather Time
so I see Cronus mirrored in my face.
All our ancestors, whose love made us real,
dream alive in virtual web of our minds,
guiding our way in drama of our lives
so every moment seared into their minds
of life and death they suffer and enjoy
beams bright within the mirror of my eyes,
so when I sit in sunlight among trees,
that bloom white petals and small apple buds,
I float in bliss of lost eternity
that rings with every chirp of lonesome birds.
Because these are not the real shining days
when the painted mask of monkeys and kings,
I wear to shield this wounded heart of steel,
that pulses vibrating waves of glass streams
from mountain waterfall of laughing fool,
crumbles in relentless wind of divine faith,
I stand at the open door of dry bones
that stands alone on the mountain of hope
and gaze at the jagged range cold wind carves
to form the eyeball of our spinning world.
Before I step through old door without home
to soar on aluminum wings of fear,
that blind Icarus loaned me for a fee,
I hold the round emerald in my hand
that Star Woman found in the sparkling pool
where she showed me how my face will appear
each year I grow older on road of life,
that winds through labyrinth across chess board,
to play game of thrones for the crown of gems
that links my mind to world computer brain.
Astride the giant pencil rocket broom,
I soar among the swirling clouds in flight
with eighty witches from the cave of gems
who change appearance of my plastic face
to mirror clear the face of every person
who ever walked our world since dawn of time
when first we crawled from lake of dreams to stretch
our hungry hands above our heads and grasp
the fruit of knowledge from the Tree of Life,
so I imitate the Many-Faced God.
But when I strum the lightning-flashing strings
bound on the blue guitar perched on my knee
I realize, while slouching in gold rain
to ruins of Jerusalem I built,
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow
glazed with rain water beside the white chickens
who lay golden eggs I sell at the market
where jester of the crucified god laughs
at how I stumble drunk from church of glass
where statues of angels stare blind at death.
Each moment in the drama of my life,
when I step forward on old creaking stage
before the eyes of people without names,
I see inside my eyes events unfold
when my ancestors played forgotten roles
in social calculation of staged ritual,
and then forget the lines of naked words
that my god-father assigned me to speak,
so I hide in the cave of shadows high
above our drowned city to write new bibles.
I stand upon the shore of broken hopes,
lashed by nefarious waves of Ocean song,
when night devours the world of changing forms,
and see the bright face of my mother clear
shining in the mirror of the iced moon,
and here lament my sophomoric spell
that calculates puzzle of paradise
designed by jubilation of desire,
then throw the Silmaril of true insight
into the surging waves that drown our land.
Then from the ruins of his temple hall,
that crumbles at the turning of our world,
Saturnus climbs up the stairway to Heaven
that arches like a rainbow among stars,
and scatters apple seeds on cement streets
so saplings sprout through cracks of empire strength,
then all our cities sea to shining sea
are swallowed by the roots of hungry trees
that change America to Onatah
where children dance in ring of shining stones.
From swirling mist of morning that gleams gold
in new electric dawn of fertile eggs
Star Woman appears to herald rebirth
of our ancient empire that sprang from Athens
so new age of Aquarius will shine
when the fruit girl with seven eyes returns
bearing water jar to fill hearts with love
and transforms Saturnus into her son
who rides swift horse across the wind-swept plain
and leads us to the Lake of Dreams we lost.
What a ride on imagination's waves
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