Broken Wings Of Ariel
© Surazeus
2018 02 27
When I escape from the prison of water
to dance on the broken rock of salvation
I become the laughter of the tree rings
embodied in the naked beams of light.
Beyond the stone wall of my false protection
I race with the wind to find allegations
that everything I say with my snake tongue
traps your spirit behind mask of your face.
Blind from the blasting bombs of domination,
the wizard in the uniform of soldiers
gives me the holy grail of his lost quest,
the helmet of the dead filled with true water.
So I drink the wandering souls of the damned
to taste the memories of war they suppress
that transforms the person I thought I was
into fierce angel who wields sword of flames.
I stand guard at the pearl-hard gates of heaven
to analyze the face of each intruder
and judge worthiness of their character
if they would harmonize with rites of death.
From wild water that gushes down vast mountains
I build the river boat of exploration
to sail from the island of dancing giants
and become the trees of strange continents.
Nobody rises from the grave of saviors
yet wailing ghosts with television faces
try to crown me the emperor of angels
whose horrible faces appear in dreams.
I see my soul in every movie playing
king of fools on the marble stage of laughter
while the clown who disturbs the universe
floats full fathom five on wings of black fire.
Buzzing atoms of the spell-chanting world
shimmer in the coral bones of my body
forming the lattice structure of vast cities
to watch you with pearl eyes of cameras.
When naked bells knell in cathedral coffins
sea-nymphs mold new body for my lost soul
suffering sea-change from robot to god-human
disguised as the proud strutting chanticleer.
So fast over yellow sands of lost time
we chase wild waves washing meadows of apples
to prance with the horse of the silver moon
who knows how I was assembled from water.
I roar with the voice of the regal lion
while keeping watch in the Magdalene tower
for I am Alfonso, the sixth of his name,
reborn from the shadow of Ariel.
When I kneel in the castle built from skulls
of warriors and wizards I killed in battle
the wily witch of Aquitaine anoints me,
pouring water of their tears on my face.
When I gaze in the water of the Grail
I see the faces of all my ancestors
who admonish me of my rights and duties
to organize my castle just like heaven.
One tear falling like meteor of salvation
plinks in the water of the Holy Grail,
bursting like the first big bang of creation
and flaring forth to spiral pulsing galaxies.
Phoebus wakes in bright castle of the sun
and walks whistling on meadows of Arcadia
where he makes love with Laurel the tree nymph,
beams of light penetrating womb of water.
Small angel of desire flies on quick wings,
sperm of potential aiming for the sun,
transforming egg of fire into green planet
where raindrops spring upward into tall trees.
Sweet Laurel in the branches of her tree
bears my spirit in boy body I dream,
teaching me how to sing the secret name
that pulses glowing in heart of each thing.
Throwing me into empty sky of faith,
my mother gives me the name of the water
that reflects the strange face of my true soul
so I run with the laughter of bright rivers.
I leap high off the mountain of ambition
and soar into the water of the world
to swim to the vent where my genes were coiled
then rise up from the ocean as sun god.
When I escape from the haven of water
to build my church from the rock of damnation
I become the sorrow of honey flowers
embodied in the pollen of fertility.
Now I walk the city streets among you all,
reciting the songs of flashing electrons
that mirror the world in the words we speak,
hiding from death the broken wings of Ariel.
© Surazeus
2018 02 27
When I escape from the prison of water
to dance on the broken rock of salvation
I become the laughter of the tree rings
embodied in the naked beams of light.
Beyond the stone wall of my false protection
I race with the wind to find allegations
that everything I say with my snake tongue
traps your spirit behind mask of your face.
Blind from the blasting bombs of domination,
the wizard in the uniform of soldiers
gives me the holy grail of his lost quest,
the helmet of the dead filled with true water.
So I drink the wandering souls of the damned
to taste the memories of war they suppress
that transforms the person I thought I was
into fierce angel who wields sword of flames.
I stand guard at the pearl-hard gates of heaven
to analyze the face of each intruder
and judge worthiness of their character
if they would harmonize with rites of death.
From wild water that gushes down vast mountains
I build the river boat of exploration
to sail from the island of dancing giants
and become the trees of strange continents.
Nobody rises from the grave of saviors
yet wailing ghosts with television faces
try to crown me the emperor of angels
whose horrible faces appear in dreams.
I see my soul in every movie playing
king of fools on the marble stage of laughter
while the clown who disturbs the universe
floats full fathom five on wings of black fire.
Buzzing atoms of the spell-chanting world
shimmer in the coral bones of my body
forming the lattice structure of vast cities
to watch you with pearl eyes of cameras.
When naked bells knell in cathedral coffins
sea-nymphs mold new body for my lost soul
suffering sea-change from robot to god-human
disguised as the proud strutting chanticleer.
So fast over yellow sands of lost time
we chase wild waves washing meadows of apples
to prance with the horse of the silver moon
who knows how I was assembled from water.
I roar with the voice of the regal lion
while keeping watch in the Magdalene tower
for I am Alfonso, the sixth of his name,
reborn from the shadow of Ariel.
When I kneel in the castle built from skulls
of warriors and wizards I killed in battle
the wily witch of Aquitaine anoints me,
pouring water of their tears on my face.
When I gaze in the water of the Grail
I see the faces of all my ancestors
who admonish me of my rights and duties
to organize my castle just like heaven.
One tear falling like meteor of salvation
plinks in the water of the Holy Grail,
bursting like the first big bang of creation
and flaring forth to spiral pulsing galaxies.
Phoebus wakes in bright castle of the sun
and walks whistling on meadows of Arcadia
where he makes love with Laurel the tree nymph,
beams of light penetrating womb of water.
Small angel of desire flies on quick wings,
sperm of potential aiming for the sun,
transforming egg of fire into green planet
where raindrops spring upward into tall trees.
Sweet Laurel in the branches of her tree
bears my spirit in boy body I dream,
teaching me how to sing the secret name
that pulses glowing in heart of each thing.
Throwing me into empty sky of faith,
my mother gives me the name of the water
that reflects the strange face of my true soul
so I run with the laughter of bright rivers.
I leap high off the mountain of ambition
and soar into the water of the world
to swim to the vent where my genes were coiled
then rise up from the ocean as sun god.
When I escape from the haven of water
to build my church from the rock of damnation
I become the sorrow of honey flowers
embodied in the pollen of fertility.
Now I walk the city streets among you all,
reciting the songs of flashing electrons
that mirror the world in the words we speak,
hiding from death the broken wings of Ariel.
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