Code Of Synergy
© Surazeus
2018 02 05
Would you like this poem better if I stood
on stage, dressed in a diamond-studded cape,
and harmoniously howled its words at the sky
with rage, accompanied by guitar twangs
that electrify your body and brain
to dance wild with the rhythm of desire?
Instead I will shroud my head with a hood
of masks, spell your pride with a mocking jape,
and silently scrawl visions from my eye
who asks, contemplating sorrowful pangs
of aching love, why we dance in the rain
and refuse to join the angelic choir.
I stand by gold pillar that supports hope
and sing weird visions that twist through my heart
to calculate cause and effect of love
which cracks the mirror of illusions forged
by god who died on rugged cross of lies
while children assemble puzzles from tales.
I investigate your heart with the scope
of compassion, map your life on the chart
of salvation brought by the crippled dove,
and sing when your loving kiss, supercharged
by lust for reincarnation, implies
we are angels writhing with dragon tails.
I hear ten thousand poets sing quaint spells
that paint pastel portraits of secret faith
in hopeful quietude to display thoughts
framed by precious truth in museum halls
which reveal hurricanes of happiness
spinning the fortune wheel of laureate fame.
The maddest genius wanders misty fells
to discuss true love with the divine wraith
who reveals how our body blooms and rots
in naked wonder written on the walls
where mute ghosts whisper codes of wittiness
cursing the haughty clown who rigs the game.
When I sing spells into the empty void
only the empty void sings in my head
secret formulas that explain how life
conjugates programs which operate brains
to translate virtual world of the real world
so in our dramas we each play the star.
Since we evolve to gods from the ganoid,
crawling rivers along the shining thread,
we compete to survive through hungry strife
by racing horses till we build airplanes
and soar to heaven where dragons lie curled,
revealed in visions while I drive my car.
After storms dissolve castles in the sand
nothing remains but the hard bitter truth
that we are random blobs of energy
consuming death to taste the lightning flash
so we must sing the visions of our brains
in tapestries that hang on castle walls.
Coordinating eyesight with my hand,
I investigate like the holy sleuth
secrets woven by code of synergy
revealed by the cosmological splash
of warm sunrays that beam through freezing rains
so we make love in sacred waterfalls.
© Surazeus
2018 02 05
Would you like this poem better if I stood
on stage, dressed in a diamond-studded cape,
and harmoniously howled its words at the sky
with rage, accompanied by guitar twangs
that electrify your body and brain
to dance wild with the rhythm of desire?
Instead I will shroud my head with a hood
of masks, spell your pride with a mocking jape,
and silently scrawl visions from my eye
who asks, contemplating sorrowful pangs
of aching love, why we dance in the rain
and refuse to join the angelic choir.
I stand by gold pillar that supports hope
and sing weird visions that twist through my heart
to calculate cause and effect of love
which cracks the mirror of illusions forged
by god who died on rugged cross of lies
while children assemble puzzles from tales.
I investigate your heart with the scope
of compassion, map your life on the chart
of salvation brought by the crippled dove,
and sing when your loving kiss, supercharged
by lust for reincarnation, implies
we are angels writhing with dragon tails.
I hear ten thousand poets sing quaint spells
that paint pastel portraits of secret faith
in hopeful quietude to display thoughts
framed by precious truth in museum halls
which reveal hurricanes of happiness
spinning the fortune wheel of laureate fame.
The maddest genius wanders misty fells
to discuss true love with the divine wraith
who reveals how our body blooms and rots
in naked wonder written on the walls
where mute ghosts whisper codes of wittiness
cursing the haughty clown who rigs the game.
When I sing spells into the empty void
only the empty void sings in my head
secret formulas that explain how life
conjugates programs which operate brains
to translate virtual world of the real world
so in our dramas we each play the star.
Since we evolve to gods from the ganoid,
crawling rivers along the shining thread,
we compete to survive through hungry strife
by racing horses till we build airplanes
and soar to heaven where dragons lie curled,
revealed in visions while I drive my car.
After storms dissolve castles in the sand
nothing remains but the hard bitter truth
that we are random blobs of energy
consuming death to taste the lightning flash
so we must sing the visions of our brains
in tapestries that hang on castle walls.
Coordinating eyesight with my hand,
I investigate like the holy sleuth
secrets woven by code of synergy
revealed by the cosmological splash
of warm sunrays that beam through freezing rains
so we make love in sacred waterfalls.
No comments:
Post a Comment