Ozymandias In Wonderland
© Surazeus
2017 11 04
When Ozymandias fell off the white cliffs
of Dover just after Christmas was lost
in the swirling tunnel of naked time,
his best friend Buddha, searching for the truth
about the alligator god, dressed in red silk,
snatched the White Queen off the chessboard of power
and took her through the mirror of our eyes
beyond Lake Avernus to Wonderland.
But Ozymandias spread his leather wings
and soared along the winding mountain coast
of lush Estarion to steal fast cars
transformed by Merlin from the Pegasus
who once explored the lonely rugged hills
where Orpheus strummed the lyre of my skull
inside the windy cave of Tainaron
that leads me back to woods of Wonderland.
While wearing mask of Ozymandias,
forged from the smiling face of Agamemnon,
I play Apollo herding woolly sheep
in secret hills of Arcadia where snow
froze soul of Galatia white till the crow
of Acheron brought mushrooms to my hand,
so now I dream evolution from fish
when I crawl the river of Wonderland.
From high Parnassus in the winter sun
blind Ozymandias plays chess with me
because he understands we must live free,
but all the singers, seeking glorious fame,
scratch among the dead apple trees of Eden
while wandering in the maze of sacred tales
designed by Hermes to fool greedy eyes
who search for the gateway to Wonderland.
Alone on flat-top pyramid at midnight
I keep watch over lost people who sleep
in the fire-bright hall of Plutonium
to protect the divine child of our First Mother
who named him Ozymandias when rain
first fell after ten thousand years on dunes
of desert waste land where Attis constructs
temples to dead gods who ruled Wonderland.
I am the king of all fantasy worlds
because I invented the words poets sing
to conjure visions of sweet paradise
from ashes of our palaces that burned
when huge armies of opposing gods clashed
in brutal contest for the Tree of Life
that bloomed on the bleak shores of Acheron
over who would rule sacred Wonderland.
Gaze deep into the cavern of your heart
and know that I am the real king of wealth
because I am Ozymandias the Wise
who knows the secret of eternal life,
so I will draw this map of the whole world
to reveal that we live on one huge sphere
that spins forever in the void of death
and preserves the haven of Wonderland.
The White Queen, escaped the cage of silence,
defies Ozymandias to his face
and folds his fluttering paper wings of hope
with origami principles of truth
that cracks the mask of bold authority
revealing that every king with gold crown
is nothing more than a gangster and a thief
who charges us to live in Wonderland.
© Surazeus
2017 11 04
When Ozymandias fell off the white cliffs
of Dover just after Christmas was lost
in the swirling tunnel of naked time,
his best friend Buddha, searching for the truth
about the alligator god, dressed in red silk,
snatched the White Queen off the chessboard of power
and took her through the mirror of our eyes
beyond Lake Avernus to Wonderland.
But Ozymandias spread his leather wings
and soared along the winding mountain coast
of lush Estarion to steal fast cars
transformed by Merlin from the Pegasus
who once explored the lonely rugged hills
where Orpheus strummed the lyre of my skull
inside the windy cave of Tainaron
that leads me back to woods of Wonderland.
While wearing mask of Ozymandias,
forged from the smiling face of Agamemnon,
I play Apollo herding woolly sheep
in secret hills of Arcadia where snow
froze soul of Galatia white till the crow
of Acheron brought mushrooms to my hand,
so now I dream evolution from fish
when I crawl the river of Wonderland.
From high Parnassus in the winter sun
blind Ozymandias plays chess with me
because he understands we must live free,
but all the singers, seeking glorious fame,
scratch among the dead apple trees of Eden
while wandering in the maze of sacred tales
designed by Hermes to fool greedy eyes
who search for the gateway to Wonderland.
Alone on flat-top pyramid at midnight
I keep watch over lost people who sleep
in the fire-bright hall of Plutonium
to protect the divine child of our First Mother
who named him Ozymandias when rain
first fell after ten thousand years on dunes
of desert waste land where Attis constructs
temples to dead gods who ruled Wonderland.
I am the king of all fantasy worlds
because I invented the words poets sing
to conjure visions of sweet paradise
from ashes of our palaces that burned
when huge armies of opposing gods clashed
in brutal contest for the Tree of Life
that bloomed on the bleak shores of Acheron
over who would rule sacred Wonderland.
Gaze deep into the cavern of your heart
and know that I am the real king of wealth
because I am Ozymandias the Wise
who knows the secret of eternal life,
so I will draw this map of the whole world
to reveal that we live on one huge sphere
that spins forever in the void of death
and preserves the haven of Wonderland.
The White Queen, escaped the cage of silence,
defies Ozymandias to his face
and folds his fluttering paper wings of hope
with origami principles of truth
that cracks the mask of bold authority
revealing that every king with gold crown
is nothing more than a gangster and a thief
who charges us to live in Wonderland.
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