Names On Memorial Beach
© Surazeus
2018 02 19
Since sunlight gleams indifferent on gold hills,
though thousands of people die every day,
shot by guns, destroyed by disease, abused
by husbands, annihilated by despair,
drowned by floods, crushed by cars, and suicide,
makes me feel that I am invincible.
Death stops by to visit me every day,
so we sit by the window to drink coffee
and watch people walking by on the street
as we play guessing game about their lives,
speculating about secret desires
that motivate their game to face the day.
Then we fall to talking of politics,
how globalization affects our minds
by transforming self-enclosed nation-states
into United Corporations of Earth
controlled by banking wizards in glass towers
while billions work hard for one meal to eat.
The merchants of death who rule the whole world
are my puppets, dancing to my commands,
Death laughs and smiles nuclear-missile teeth,
so I chuckle, amused at his cute joke,
while jet planes and tanks blow each other up,
and children bleed in rubble of their greed.
Seers, who conceal in puzzles of cute poems
prophecies that criticize tyrant kings,
drive cars to work in anonymous traffic
that stream shining on the highways of power
where the cracked skulls of thousands of dead poets
line the cement barriers with glowing eyes.
The Messiah, whom everyone expects
to descend from bright clouds on wings of glory,
walks along the highway in tattered coat,
the homeless man that everyone ignores
though he stands in the cold wind on the bridge
to shout prophecies that no one can hear.
Death and the Messiah give me a ride
in their new sports utility vehicle,
huge silver sedan racing wide highway,
to the glass Olympic ice skating rink
where we watch angels gliding on thin ice
to express beauty of the human form.
The elegant girl with flowing blonde hair,
wearing short pink skirt, glides spirals on ice,
arms flowing like snow-white wings of the swan,
and soars far beyond this physical plane
to flash among stars of eternity,
while thousands of children in war zones starve.
How can these two things exist in one world,
I ask Death and the Messiah with concern,
this beautiful girl like Goddess on Earth
gliding with grace while billions watch her show,
yet nameless children, homes shattered by bombs,
shiver still alive in horror of pain?
Death is our friend for he eases our pain
when he dissolves our bodies back to dust,
and perceptive consciousness of our brains
flickers out to nothing in the mute void,
so we burn to taste pleasure while we live,
savoring the sweetness of music and fruit.
Moving through the ruins of ancient cities,
bombed to rubble by emperors of banks,
I step over huge heaps of rotting corpses
till I find the young girl staring in shock
who will one day unite our great world empire
so I carry her in my arms to Heaven.
Messiah takes me to the snow-clear peak
of Mount Takoma, where Truth taught me spellcraft,
and shows me all the cities of the world,
explaining how men once fought civil wars
by ganging up to shoot each other with guns,
but now argue on social network sites.
Now young men, angry at suffering insults,
buy assault rifles and attack their schools,
shooting bullets instead of hateful words
to kill the normal people they despise,
so people weep at the horror of death,
then offer thoughts and prayers from numb dismay.
I wander through every city on Earth
and look into the eyes of each live person
to see the visions of their glowing minds
and weave our memories in world epic song
that will vanish in dusty wind of time
though we preserve them in lyrical rhyme.
Billions of people die with each new year,
dissolving to dirt in spinning of time,
and billions more are born from lust for life,
so with each new generation of children
we preserve the flame of our consciousness
to replicate our virtual world of dreams.
I merge billions of living human beings
in one general stereotype of their role
to idolize their passions and fierce dreams
in common character idea they play
so their names, written on memorial beach,
are erased forever by indifferent waves.
I stare at sunlight on indifferent hills
and feel our spinning world float in vast void,
remembering how as sperm I swam toward egg
and transformed into body of my soul
through every evolutionary form
till I emerged, and walk the maze of hope.
One purpose guides me on my quest for love,
to replicate my brain before I die
and dream again as children of my soul
since we first woke in ancient sea of dreams,
and live reborn fifteen billion years more
till the expanding sun swallows our world.
© Surazeus
2018 02 19
Since sunlight gleams indifferent on gold hills,
though thousands of people die every day,
shot by guns, destroyed by disease, abused
by husbands, annihilated by despair,
drowned by floods, crushed by cars, and suicide,
makes me feel that I am invincible.
Death stops by to visit me every day,
so we sit by the window to drink coffee
and watch people walking by on the street
as we play guessing game about their lives,
speculating about secret desires
that motivate their game to face the day.
Then we fall to talking of politics,
how globalization affects our minds
by transforming self-enclosed nation-states
into United Corporations of Earth
controlled by banking wizards in glass towers
while billions work hard for one meal to eat.
The merchants of death who rule the whole world
are my puppets, dancing to my commands,
Death laughs and smiles nuclear-missile teeth,
so I chuckle, amused at his cute joke,
while jet planes and tanks blow each other up,
and children bleed in rubble of their greed.
Seers, who conceal in puzzles of cute poems
prophecies that criticize tyrant kings,
drive cars to work in anonymous traffic
that stream shining on the highways of power
where the cracked skulls of thousands of dead poets
line the cement barriers with glowing eyes.
The Messiah, whom everyone expects
to descend from bright clouds on wings of glory,
walks along the highway in tattered coat,
the homeless man that everyone ignores
though he stands in the cold wind on the bridge
to shout prophecies that no one can hear.
Death and the Messiah give me a ride
in their new sports utility vehicle,
huge silver sedan racing wide highway,
to the glass Olympic ice skating rink
where we watch angels gliding on thin ice
to express beauty of the human form.
The elegant girl with flowing blonde hair,
wearing short pink skirt, glides spirals on ice,
arms flowing like snow-white wings of the swan,
and soars far beyond this physical plane
to flash among stars of eternity,
while thousands of children in war zones starve.
How can these two things exist in one world,
I ask Death and the Messiah with concern,
this beautiful girl like Goddess on Earth
gliding with grace while billions watch her show,
yet nameless children, homes shattered by bombs,
shiver still alive in horror of pain?
Death is our friend for he eases our pain
when he dissolves our bodies back to dust,
and perceptive consciousness of our brains
flickers out to nothing in the mute void,
so we burn to taste pleasure while we live,
savoring the sweetness of music and fruit.
Moving through the ruins of ancient cities,
bombed to rubble by emperors of banks,
I step over huge heaps of rotting corpses
till I find the young girl staring in shock
who will one day unite our great world empire
so I carry her in my arms to Heaven.
Messiah takes me to the snow-clear peak
of Mount Takoma, where Truth taught me spellcraft,
and shows me all the cities of the world,
explaining how men once fought civil wars
by ganging up to shoot each other with guns,
but now argue on social network sites.
Now young men, angry at suffering insults,
buy assault rifles and attack their schools,
shooting bullets instead of hateful words
to kill the normal people they despise,
so people weep at the horror of death,
then offer thoughts and prayers from numb dismay.
I wander through every city on Earth
and look into the eyes of each live person
to see the visions of their glowing minds
and weave our memories in world epic song
that will vanish in dusty wind of time
though we preserve them in lyrical rhyme.
Billions of people die with each new year,
dissolving to dirt in spinning of time,
and billions more are born from lust for life,
so with each new generation of children
we preserve the flame of our consciousness
to replicate our virtual world of dreams.
I merge billions of living human beings
in one general stereotype of their role
to idolize their passions and fierce dreams
in common character idea they play
so their names, written on memorial beach,
are erased forever by indifferent waves.
I stare at sunlight on indifferent hills
and feel our spinning world float in vast void,
remembering how as sperm I swam toward egg
and transformed into body of my soul
through every evolutionary form
till I emerged, and walk the maze of hope.
One purpose guides me on my quest for love,
to replicate my brain before I die
and dream again as children of my soul
since we first woke in ancient sea of dreams,
and live reborn fifteen billion years more
till the expanding sun swallows our world.
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