Tuesday, November 28, 2017

How To Change My Life

How To Change My Life
© Surazeus
2017 11 28

Dead gods burst bright from hard statues of stone
and beam rays of sunlight that pierce my cells
with needles of desire that thread glass eyes
to weave soul into fabric of this world.

Each quiver of wings beating in my heart,
from invisible beings my fear invents,
slashes curves of passion like mountain peaks
so my consciousness bulges from ripe fruit.

Back inward I roll sight of searching eyes
to discover secrets of physics lost
through rebirth of fathers ten thousand years
while I dig holes in moist soil of the world.

I follow ghost of Rainer through the zoo
where mute animals are caged in steel maze
by talking animals with grasping hands
who discovered how to forge swords from fire.

Each time he pauses in Museum of forms
I watch him study the panther who prowls
or the headless statue of dead Apollo
whose lust for life aches within my own torso.

I follow Rainer to the Duino Tower
where he chases ghost of Princess Marie
and translates howl of winds on broken stone
while he teaches me how to change my life.

Shaking free from purple haze of desire,
I grip the angel who tries to escape,
but gasp to realize she is human flesh
as she vanishes in wind of my words.

Each angel I encounter on the road
of self-enlightenment to paradise
was wounded by some man assaulting her
so she flees when I express my pure love.

So when I look at my sweet charming bride,
silver eyes blazing from gold curls of hair,
I find that she is now frail skeleton
whose spirit left her lost corpse in my care.

Breaking open the door of the ruined tower,
I leave my nameless bride in hall of mirrors
where like Rapunzel she sings with birds
and laments imprisonment of her duty.

I carve from marble bone of mountain core
sweet curves of Venus to reveal her soul
that manifests in her breasts dripping milk
and eyes that gaze beyond my smiling mask.

Emerging from the lake of dreams at dawn,
she sings that way gold sunlight gleams on water
is how she perceives teeming world of forms
as subject who creates life with her heart.

I am not object of your blind desire,
she cries and turns away into the wind,
and aching passion to protect her soul
swells my heart to spring with active progress.

The ancient love to procreate new souls
gushes from my heart like river that flows
from melting ice on mountain of my breast
to fertilize lush valleys that bloom fruit.

Pure soul of god, eternal flash of life,
glows within the meat and bones of my body
so immortal souls of my ancestors live
reborn this hour in me with aching hope.

My eyes perceive real world of changing forms,
my mind designs model of that real world,
my heart conceives action to achieve pleasure,
and my body acts to construct good heaven.

Each moment my brain dreams vision of good
I perform actions my mind prophesies,
so I reconstruct structure of the world
through construction and destruction of hope.

I walk candle-lit Museum of tales,
gazing at statues of each character
who springs alive in visions of our minds
conjured whole by words of legends in books.

So many people sprang from lust of hope,
bodies pulsing with consciousness of god
who seeks to replicate eternal soul
preserved in genetic coil of our flesh.

Born from darkness of endless nothingness
we seek light of pleasure through sharing love
that regenerates our bodies and minds
so we can live till the Sun burns the Earth.

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