Silver Star Alone
© Surazeus
2018 05 11
Silver star alone in blue twilight zone
remembers how the yellow flower of now
flies across the mirror of my dream eyes
if wind returns through window of my book.
He comes from somewhere beyond mountain star
through waste land of hope with false memories
heaped in wood wagon of broken wheel words
to colonize meadow by river flash.
He builds foundation for empire of wealth
on unmarked graves where our ancestors sleep
for their ghosts in the form of silent owls
haunt his moonlight that he cannot drink well.
Every dollar accounted for in ledger
of secrets locked in chest hidden within
flutters away on butterfly wings where
the Valkyrie sings twilight of the gods.
Thundering across the lightning-pictured plain
in screaming rain to collect souls of warriors
slain in battle, the Valkyrie knows why
I invade their hunting grounds to build new home.
Every decade of my weird life since birth
I have lived in some different state of mind,
searching maze of ideological lies
to design Heaven in deserts of Earth.
Since I arrived in wild America
four hundred years ago on Ship of Fools,
I have traveled west, colonizing vales
of sparkling rivers sea to shining sea.
Now my bones molder in eight thousand graves,
skulls in Temple of Orpheus with mouths
chattering prophecies that no one can hear
so I encode them in riddles of spells.
My book will replace your Bible of Lies
but children must rearrange all its words
to design their own mythic characters
of people who search nature for real truth.
Because we are colony of lost souls
who escaped tyranny of noble kings
to invent for ourselves new social roles
which might reveal why the blind angel sings.
Now that Lucifer has slain the Vampire
to organize all police agencies,
the last man on Earth reigns as King of Death
masquerading as our American Dad.
While Nostradamus in candle-lit tower
scries weird future in the bowl of clear water
I scribble riddles of his arcane words
with blood of my breast on human-skin parchment.
When the Orange Clown sits on the Throne of Ishtar
the Lion Queen waits in the Temple of Apples
to reclaim the Scepter of Ozymandias
that falls from small hands of the Zombie King.
Three years the bear will rave in Church of Mirrors
but when the Jester wears Mask of Apollo
then will return the Witch of Aquitaine
who will crown him the Emperor of Ice Cream.
Though locked in the cage of transient ideas,
I exit the door from the Hall of Books
to purchase ice cream from the Wicked Witch
who gives me gold mask I might someday wear.
I scatter seeds of my words in your brains
where fruit trees blossom fruitful Flowers of Evil
so I kiss Eve under the Tree of Knowledge
and tend the altar flame as Lucifer.
Silver Star alone in gold evening sky
preserves spells I carve on oracle bones
so I follow the sun west to discover
the world is round and covered with wild seas.
Each prophet who came before me in life
wrote psychic formulas of arcane riddles
on temple walls, so I erase them all
and organize them in epic of wisdom.
Though I live in this house, in maze of doors,
for now, chanting prophecies of lost souls,
I will wander on down the signless road
to colonize the waste land with New Haven.
The invaders colonize my Homeland
so I leave to wander lost in Wasteland,
then colonize new-discovered Heartland
where I sing visions secret from Dreamland.
© Surazeus
2018 05 11
Silver star alone in blue twilight zone
remembers how the yellow flower of now
flies across the mirror of my dream eyes
if wind returns through window of my book.
He comes from somewhere beyond mountain star
through waste land of hope with false memories
heaped in wood wagon of broken wheel words
to colonize meadow by river flash.
He builds foundation for empire of wealth
on unmarked graves where our ancestors sleep
for their ghosts in the form of silent owls
haunt his moonlight that he cannot drink well.
Every dollar accounted for in ledger
of secrets locked in chest hidden within
flutters away on butterfly wings where
the Valkyrie sings twilight of the gods.
Thundering across the lightning-pictured plain
in screaming rain to collect souls of warriors
slain in battle, the Valkyrie knows why
I invade their hunting grounds to build new home.
Every decade of my weird life since birth
I have lived in some different state of mind,
searching maze of ideological lies
to design Heaven in deserts of Earth.
Since I arrived in wild America
four hundred years ago on Ship of Fools,
I have traveled west, colonizing vales
of sparkling rivers sea to shining sea.
Now my bones molder in eight thousand graves,
skulls in Temple of Orpheus with mouths
chattering prophecies that no one can hear
so I encode them in riddles of spells.
My book will replace your Bible of Lies
but children must rearrange all its words
to design their own mythic characters
of people who search nature for real truth.
Because we are colony of lost souls
who escaped tyranny of noble kings
to invent for ourselves new social roles
which might reveal why the blind angel sings.
Now that Lucifer has slain the Vampire
to organize all police agencies,
the last man on Earth reigns as King of Death
masquerading as our American Dad.
While Nostradamus in candle-lit tower
scries weird future in the bowl of clear water
I scribble riddles of his arcane words
with blood of my breast on human-skin parchment.
When the Orange Clown sits on the Throne of Ishtar
the Lion Queen waits in the Temple of Apples
to reclaim the Scepter of Ozymandias
that falls from small hands of the Zombie King.
Three years the bear will rave in Church of Mirrors
but when the Jester wears Mask of Apollo
then will return the Witch of Aquitaine
who will crown him the Emperor of Ice Cream.
Though locked in the cage of transient ideas,
I exit the door from the Hall of Books
to purchase ice cream from the Wicked Witch
who gives me gold mask I might someday wear.
I scatter seeds of my words in your brains
where fruit trees blossom fruitful Flowers of Evil
so I kiss Eve under the Tree of Knowledge
and tend the altar flame as Lucifer.
Silver Star alone in gold evening sky
preserves spells I carve on oracle bones
so I follow the sun west to discover
the world is round and covered with wild seas.
Each prophet who came before me in life
wrote psychic formulas of arcane riddles
on temple walls, so I erase them all
and organize them in epic of wisdom.
Though I live in this house, in maze of doors,
for now, chanting prophecies of lost souls,
I will wander on down the signless road
to colonize the waste land with New Haven.
The invaders colonize my Homeland
so I leave to wander lost in Wasteland,
then colonize new-discovered Heartland
where I sing visions secret from Dreamland.
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