Her Upside-Down House
© Surazeus
2018 05 16
Because she lives in her upside-down house
the butterfly of words personify
the spirit of light that knows her real name
so she gives me her death stare the whole time
we ride the wild astronaut gyroscope
even though the wizard was not yet born.
The shiny bus that glides on fast highway
stops by the ancient oak where wizards sang
to weave rainbows from eyes of murdered children
who talk to the dead horse rotting in muck
where three alligators wait to explain
resurrection of the eyeless messiah.
Because she reconstructs plastic toy house
the eyeless wizard of the moon gave her
for her thirteenth birthday after the war
she invites me to drink chamomile tea
so we sit in her garden by the sea
and talk about the shadow in the door.
Therefore she writes down everything she dreams
in the pink diary with pastel green ink
along with cartoons of cute unicorns
with big eyes which see beyond veil of death
but she refuses to say what she saw
so I take a deep breath and spread swan wings.
She calls us to her cottage by the sea
so we talk about narrative of self
while carving demon masks from slabs of wood
sawed from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good
and Evil that grows from egg of my skull
cracked by wisdom so the light can beam through.
Because she switches roles of King and Queen
in game of Chess back to the way it was
before the seventh coming of Christ Orpheus
I ride my horse to each tower of the castle
where I seduce the daughter of the wizard
and raise our sons to play my Holy Knights.
I want to spread new empire of my sword
but she misdirects my intense aggression
to build cathedral of diamonds for her
so sunrays beam on her gold face at noon
to illuminate the timeless world between
birth and death on the stage of divine drama.
She runs from our cave on the mountain slope
and plucks ripe apples from trees by the river,
walks slowly toward restless herd of swift horses
to wait unmoving with her hand stretched forth
while they sniff and eat the apples she offers,
then caresses their necks with soothing hands.
Beyond the far horizon of the sun
she leads us walking along the wide river
in restless curiosity of faith
while riding horses she tamed with soft words
and we throw apples we eat in the mud
where they sprout into ten thousand new trees.
I trace my finger on globe of the world
to follow trail of horses in the wind
from Alaska through Siberia to Scythia
where they gallop far over windy steppes
to frolic on shores of the Caspian Sea
because she builds our new house upside down.
© Surazeus
2018 05 16
Because she lives in her upside-down house
the butterfly of words personify
the spirit of light that knows her real name
so she gives me her death stare the whole time
we ride the wild astronaut gyroscope
even though the wizard was not yet born.
The shiny bus that glides on fast highway
stops by the ancient oak where wizards sang
to weave rainbows from eyes of murdered children
who talk to the dead horse rotting in muck
where three alligators wait to explain
resurrection of the eyeless messiah.
Because she reconstructs plastic toy house
the eyeless wizard of the moon gave her
for her thirteenth birthday after the war
she invites me to drink chamomile tea
so we sit in her garden by the sea
and talk about the shadow in the door.
Therefore she writes down everything she dreams
in the pink diary with pastel green ink
along with cartoons of cute unicorns
with big eyes which see beyond veil of death
but she refuses to say what she saw
so I take a deep breath and spread swan wings.
She calls us to her cottage by the sea
so we talk about narrative of self
while carving demon masks from slabs of wood
sawed from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good
and Evil that grows from egg of my skull
cracked by wisdom so the light can beam through.
Because she switches roles of King and Queen
in game of Chess back to the way it was
before the seventh coming of Christ Orpheus
I ride my horse to each tower of the castle
where I seduce the daughter of the wizard
and raise our sons to play my Holy Knights.
I want to spread new empire of my sword
but she misdirects my intense aggression
to build cathedral of diamonds for her
so sunrays beam on her gold face at noon
to illuminate the timeless world between
birth and death on the stage of divine drama.
She runs from our cave on the mountain slope
and plucks ripe apples from trees by the river,
walks slowly toward restless herd of swift horses
to wait unmoving with her hand stretched forth
while they sniff and eat the apples she offers,
then caresses their necks with soothing hands.
Beyond the far horizon of the sun
she leads us walking along the wide river
in restless curiosity of faith
while riding horses she tamed with soft words
and we throw apples we eat in the mud
where they sprout into ten thousand new trees.
I trace my finger on globe of the world
to follow trail of horses in the wind
from Alaska through Siberia to Scythia
where they gallop far over windy steppes
to frolic on shores of the Caspian Sea
because she builds our new house upside down.
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