Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Beach Of My Aching Heart

Beach Of My Aching Heart
© Surazeus
2017 02 21

The old bearded man with wild uncombed hair
slowly sips iced lemonade through cracked lips,
then sets tall glass on windowsill with care,
and watches children in the city park
chase shadows in the greenish twilight glow.

"When I was a boy in small Texas town
I ran around the streets for hours at dusk,
shooting at my friends with a silver pistol.
My step-father killed my mother one night,
when I was a wild sophomore in high school,
and the police dragged him kicking to prison,
so I lived alone in our house two years
before some balding man in a gray suit
knocked on the door one winter afternoon
and explained that they foreclosed the mortgage,
and I had to move away, so I drove
my truck to california where I lived
on the beach, beating drums and chanting poems
I improvised after smoking sweet weed.
One night I dropped a hit of lightning acid
and walked along the beach ten billion years,
dreaming the entire flow of evolution,
each generation of our mortal bodies
transforming like waves rolling on the sand,
and I forgot my name my mother gave me
because I became every single ancestor
who lived on this world for millions of years
since we were the first one-eyed Egg of God.
I realized every god that humans worshipped
was based on the life of some human being
who lead their people through the wilderness,
and taught them how to organize their lives
so they raise children and cultivate food.
Therefore every human who ever lived
is god, conscious in the dream of our brains,
so I am god, and you are god, and we
are all god, and we should love everyone.
For thirty years I lived free off the land,
ignoring the progress of civilization
while keeping to myself in quiet tent.
I cultivated a garden of herbs
in a small valley between two high hills
where people worked in factories all day,
but the owners closed their factories down
then opened factories in Mexico,
and the police burned my small garden of herbs.
Now I hang out at the library all day,
reading novels that I hated in school.
After all these years of my search for truth,
the only reason for life I could find
is to have children by making new life,
so our only real reason to exist
is to make more life in cycle of lust.
I failed in that basic purpose of life
because I never found the right soul mate,
the woman I should marry to have children.
I read a story today in the news
about a bunch of refugees from war
who drowned and washed up on the dusty shore
near a small town in Libya called Zawiya.
I saw a photograph that showed the face
of one young woman with curling black hair
whose angular face and elegant nose
struck my heart with anguish of aching love,
and now I know that she was my soul mate,
the one woman I was destined to marry.
I lost her before we could ever meet,
and I will never even know her name,
but her divine face is burned in my heart
forever, at least till the day I die.
My true love and soul mate I longed to find
lies dead on the beach of my aching heart.
I should have learned how to program computers
since that is how everyone works today,
then I could have married her in a mosque,
and I could have bought a house and two cars,
and we could have raised children with our love
who would be a physicist and an artist.
Instead I wander the streets of this town
without a job or home, and sit all day
in the library, reading fantasy,
so now the soul that beams from my coiled genes
will vanish forever like fire in rain."

The old bearded man with wild uncombed hair
finishes drinking his iced lemonade,
then picks up the novel Animal Farm
and sits by the window, staring at words
that swirl like June bugs on warm summer nights.

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