River Shore Of Hope
© Surazeus
2018 06 26
This feeling that our nation falls apart
compels aggressive passion of response
to assemble weird puzzle of experience
which organizes projects of our hands
we create to stave off chaos of fear
while sitting alone in apartment hive.
While old wizard with television eyes
stands on bridge of death above the wild stream
where chunks of ice shaped like skull of Orpheus
howl prophecies we must calculate first,
we assemble scenes of human experience
to encode our progress from fish to god.
I offer no solutions to resolve
dilemma contending opposite views
embedded in mask that reveals my soul
true as blue moon hidden within my eyes
to help me see algorithms of thought
that formulate how we perceive our death.
How many other prophecies of doom
we must read to decrypt atomic physics
concealed in formulas of psychic spells
to wave surreal flux beyond garden walls
and sail winding stream of change past our tombs
where priests recite passages I compose.
Each time I meet her face to face, we kiss
flashing hunger that fountains from our hearts,
so I will know secret name she designs
which maps our quest from obliterant hell
to create heaven from waste land of truth
which we can only see through mirror eyes.
One hundred years before the genocide
my ancestors escaped kingdom of greed
to sail across wild western sea of death
then travel far up the Oregon Trail
on endless quest to find new paradise
though demon of rage follows our faint song.
Though every institution that insured
progressive growth of our democracy
crumbles from assault of aggressive men
who grasp at illusions of thought control
we conjure inner rebel to defy
power structures of the privileged few.
From muck of rotting bodies with sponge brains
I rise reborn to construct dome of truth
where angels sing hymns my anguish composed
recording how our empire fell from greed
and rose again to dominate the world,
enforcing single system of bold justice.
Now I throw book of prophecies I wrote
at wild indifferent sea of endless song,
then all my visions change to butterflies
whose wings preserve memes of cultural truths
so we transform small fractured nation-states
into global enterprise of craft shops.
Though our nation seems to fall into chaos
through contention of opposing world views,
efficient engine of democracy
rededicates morals of good and bad
based on acts of construction or destruction
so we feast on the river shore of hope.
© Surazeus
2018 06 26
This feeling that our nation falls apart
compels aggressive passion of response
to assemble weird puzzle of experience
which organizes projects of our hands
we create to stave off chaos of fear
while sitting alone in apartment hive.
While old wizard with television eyes
stands on bridge of death above the wild stream
where chunks of ice shaped like skull of Orpheus
howl prophecies we must calculate first,
we assemble scenes of human experience
to encode our progress from fish to god.
I offer no solutions to resolve
dilemma contending opposite views
embedded in mask that reveals my soul
true as blue moon hidden within my eyes
to help me see algorithms of thought
that formulate how we perceive our death.
How many other prophecies of doom
we must read to decrypt atomic physics
concealed in formulas of psychic spells
to wave surreal flux beyond garden walls
and sail winding stream of change past our tombs
where priests recite passages I compose.
Each time I meet her face to face, we kiss
flashing hunger that fountains from our hearts,
so I will know secret name she designs
which maps our quest from obliterant hell
to create heaven from waste land of truth
which we can only see through mirror eyes.
One hundred years before the genocide
my ancestors escaped kingdom of greed
to sail across wild western sea of death
then travel far up the Oregon Trail
on endless quest to find new paradise
though demon of rage follows our faint song.
Though every institution that insured
progressive growth of our democracy
crumbles from assault of aggressive men
who grasp at illusions of thought control
we conjure inner rebel to defy
power structures of the privileged few.
From muck of rotting bodies with sponge brains
I rise reborn to construct dome of truth
where angels sing hymns my anguish composed
recording how our empire fell from greed
and rose again to dominate the world,
enforcing single system of bold justice.
Now I throw book of prophecies I wrote
at wild indifferent sea of endless song,
then all my visions change to butterflies
whose wings preserve memes of cultural truths
so we transform small fractured nation-states
into global enterprise of craft shops.
Though our nation seems to fall into chaos
through contention of opposing world views,
efficient engine of democracy
rededicates morals of good and bad
based on acts of construction or destruction
so we feast on the river shore of hope.
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