Sunday, May 6, 2018

Church Of Dancing Bones

Church Of Dancing Bones
© Surazeus
2018 05 06

My memories are my own private obsessions
so go ransack your own brain for lost secrets
you want to share with everyone in poem
that makes no sense to anyone but you.

If Hercules laughs when you make confessions
about worshipping invisible priestess
remember how we designed the sky dome
where every nameless god is staged but you.

Though all the internet servers on Earth
collapse in world-wide flash of empty silence
we still can gather in the ring of stones
to share the stories no one wants to hear.

Like Phoenix in the seagrass of rebirth
I drive swift star ship with poetic license
to play guitar in Church of Dancing Bones
because I am the secret puppeteer.

No one can understand the poems you write,
he tells me with strange mocking tone of voice,
because you lead them lost in labyrinth
of mirrors that reflect ironic truth.

Since Icarus taught me secret of flight
I realize that I always have a choice
whether or not to pick the hyacinth
for Jane who taught me how to play the sleuth.

The river nymph with seven eyes loves me
because I killed the serpent in the tree
where apples blossom from the gold moonlight
so she shows me how to tame the wild horse.

The blinded king with broken heart shoves me
because I freed the Queen of Liberty
but I regain the code of second sight
to trick disguised fools lost on the golf course.

Through tangled branches of the circling wood
I follow Dante to Manhattan tower
where Lucifer teaches me to make fire
so I chant spells that sparkle brains with dreams.

On desert mountain where the prophet stood
I stand now gazing at the ancient flower
to determine if our God was the liar
then steer the boat I built on star-lit streams.

The jury should declare me innocent
since I wrote new scripture for all world tribes
which presents true view of our universe
so they can watch television in peace.

I play the flute to open parliament
where Muses dictate epics for blind scribes
but if you think you can escape the curse
then wear prophet robe of the Golden Fleece.

I wield diamond scepter for the blind queen
who leads me to the Temple of Lost Souls
where thirty priests discuss the national debt
and how to help the hungry homeless poor.

Go ahead and replace me with machine
that solves the puzzle of white spinning holes
but my weird dreams create the minaret
where the Angel sings behind her locked door.

My memories break through eggshell of my head
and slither away on frail rainbow wings
to become the shining Angel of Truth
whose face I wear when no one sees me play.

Once I can perceive rays of infrared
I follow light to where Apple Girl sings
so she appoints me her top secret sleuth
to find out how we are molded from clay.

These words of wisdom I write down for you
will lead you down the primrose path of fate
unless you swerve to walk the city streets
where robots in gray suits sell you your soul.

I dip my finger in sweet bubbling brew
when Cerridwen refuses to debate
but three drops glitter visions of Elites
who teach me arcane code of the White Whole.

When you are lost while wandering signless road
follow the singing of our aching hearts
to visit our clean Church of Dancing Bones
where Orpheus preaches we have free will.

Each day we star in cosmic episode
while plotting history on new mythic charts
how human gods rule geographic zones
like Buddha dreaming on each lonely hill.

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