Real Inside Our Heads
© Surazeus
2018 05 19
I think my brain blinked out in flash of what,
because I come back from strange revery
to see you talking about something how
the day will spiral down the river flow.
I hit the oak tree with the baseball bat
and watch the blue butterfly flutter fast
beyond the whisper of the wind in leaves
because I feel ashamed to ask you what.
I crouch behind the bush when bullets zing
and feel the world spin backward from the way
taut angel wings snap against my frail skull
so I duck and shoot blindly at the void.
I lean against the lone wall of the church
still standing after getting shelled all night
and watch women and children hauling bags
of precious memories walk the bright road.
I lead the refugees for seven days
through silent forests howling with despair
to port town where they can escape on boats
but hide when planes strafe bullets at our heads.
I know you said something but I forget
the name of that woman with one blind eye
who was holding my hand as we ran fast
and stumbled when the bullet pierced her spine.
She claws my arms and stares from one gray eye
past veil of horror to see my true soul
so deep in boundless nothing of my mind
as blood gurgles between her tender lips.
I kiss her lips for hours after she dies
then bury her beside indifferent stream
and when I leave the copse I find the rest,
two hundred women and children shot dead.
I see their faces staring at blank sky
every time I want to kiss your soft lips,
so I say I love you with all my heart
but I miss your reply, lost in your eyes.
I cannot tell you any of these things
so I kiss you as we sit on the porch
and watch the evening sun set red as blood
smeared on the faces of all those dead women.
Staring at all the dead women and children
shot dead by the plane zooming from the sky,
I realize then that God is nothing more
than invention of priests to control minds.
Truth is the story we tell other people
to organize weird events of our lives
for nothing is true, neither good nor bad,
but thinking makes it real inside our heads.
© Surazeus
2018 05 19
I think my brain blinked out in flash of what,
because I come back from strange revery
to see you talking about something how
the day will spiral down the river flow.
I hit the oak tree with the baseball bat
and watch the blue butterfly flutter fast
beyond the whisper of the wind in leaves
because I feel ashamed to ask you what.
I crouch behind the bush when bullets zing
and feel the world spin backward from the way
taut angel wings snap against my frail skull
so I duck and shoot blindly at the void.
I lean against the lone wall of the church
still standing after getting shelled all night
and watch women and children hauling bags
of precious memories walk the bright road.
I lead the refugees for seven days
through silent forests howling with despair
to port town where they can escape on boats
but hide when planes strafe bullets at our heads.
I know you said something but I forget
the name of that woman with one blind eye
who was holding my hand as we ran fast
and stumbled when the bullet pierced her spine.
She claws my arms and stares from one gray eye
past veil of horror to see my true soul
so deep in boundless nothing of my mind
as blood gurgles between her tender lips.
I kiss her lips for hours after she dies
then bury her beside indifferent stream
and when I leave the copse I find the rest,
two hundred women and children shot dead.
I see their faces staring at blank sky
every time I want to kiss your soft lips,
so I say I love you with all my heart
but I miss your reply, lost in your eyes.
I cannot tell you any of these things
so I kiss you as we sit on the porch
and watch the evening sun set red as blood
smeared on the faces of all those dead women.
Staring at all the dead women and children
shot dead by the plane zooming from the sky,
I realize then that God is nothing more
than invention of priests to control minds.
Truth is the story we tell other people
to organize weird events of our lives
for nothing is true, neither good nor bad,
but thinking makes it real inside our heads.
No comments:
Post a Comment