What Is This Puzzle
© Surazeus
2018 06 25
What is this wilderness of empty space
that stretches vast and strange between the walls
of buildings where we enter through glass doors
to dwell within weird hologram of truth?
What is this window of the laughing ghost
who gazes from the bubble of illusion
at patch of dirt where grass and insects thrive
outside holy bounds of society?
What would they think about me if I strip
the mask and costume of social convention
then walk back outside the walls of strict rules
to sit naked in splendor of the grass?
What strange illusions would my eyes perceive
were I to toss my glasses in the weeds
and crawl wordless in fuzzy shapes of color
to become one mind with the singing tree?
What meaningless name do you address me
to encase my wild being in category
of accepted social roles I once played
before I cut the puppet strings you wield?
What is this aching hunger of despair
which claws at frail fruit of my throbbing heart
with anguish at the notion that our life
is slow but relentless decay of lust?
What is this concept these verses convey
from my teeming brain on signals of thought
broadcast through beams of words our tongues express
to conjure illusions of naked truth?
What is this crumbling of frail flesh we wear
to sustain bold vibrations of our brains
when emptiness of horror that is death
consumes chemical sparkles of our cells?
What is this honest world view I prefer
presenting fact that we are clump of atoms
which generates consciousness from our brains
and will disintegrate to nothing at death?
What is this bridge, forged from rainbows and steel,
arching over lethal River of Dreams
with wires that vibrate like strings of the lyre
so we sing hegemony of our empire?
What are these prophecies of broken poems
that blind prophets once howled at the blank sky
and now lie gasping in anthologies
of famous poets no one ever reads?
What is this puzzle of our nation-state
assembled from tribes all over the world
to forge new global rule of human rights
which nurtures liberty of differences?
What is this mirror that reflects my soul,
presenting memories I never dreamed,
so I invent new person I now play
on crowded stage of history till death?
What is this character I now portray
which formed from pain of my experience
to motivate aggressive play for power
in chess game of the self-important clowns?
What is this laurel crown I now must wear
to validate success of my creation
when dream spells of sentences I compose
flash hallucinations through conscious eyes?
What is this agony of ecstasy
that spirals galaxies of singing gods
through maze of memories I write in spells
to reincarnate my genes in new child?
© Surazeus
2018 06 25
What is this wilderness of empty space
that stretches vast and strange between the walls
of buildings where we enter through glass doors
to dwell within weird hologram of truth?
What is this window of the laughing ghost
who gazes from the bubble of illusion
at patch of dirt where grass and insects thrive
outside holy bounds of society?
What would they think about me if I strip
the mask and costume of social convention
then walk back outside the walls of strict rules
to sit naked in splendor of the grass?
What strange illusions would my eyes perceive
were I to toss my glasses in the weeds
and crawl wordless in fuzzy shapes of color
to become one mind with the singing tree?
What meaningless name do you address me
to encase my wild being in category
of accepted social roles I once played
before I cut the puppet strings you wield?
What is this aching hunger of despair
which claws at frail fruit of my throbbing heart
with anguish at the notion that our life
is slow but relentless decay of lust?
What is this concept these verses convey
from my teeming brain on signals of thought
broadcast through beams of words our tongues express
to conjure illusions of naked truth?
What is this crumbling of frail flesh we wear
to sustain bold vibrations of our brains
when emptiness of horror that is death
consumes chemical sparkles of our cells?
What is this honest world view I prefer
presenting fact that we are clump of atoms
which generates consciousness from our brains
and will disintegrate to nothing at death?
What is this bridge, forged from rainbows and steel,
arching over lethal River of Dreams
with wires that vibrate like strings of the lyre
so we sing hegemony of our empire?
What are these prophecies of broken poems
that blind prophets once howled at the blank sky
and now lie gasping in anthologies
of famous poets no one ever reads?
What is this puzzle of our nation-state
assembled from tribes all over the world
to forge new global rule of human rights
which nurtures liberty of differences?
What is this mirror that reflects my soul,
presenting memories I never dreamed,
so I invent new person I now play
on crowded stage of history till death?
What is this character I now portray
which formed from pain of my experience
to motivate aggressive play for power
in chess game of the self-important clowns?
What is this laurel crown I now must wear
to validate success of my creation
when dream spells of sentences I compose
flash hallucinations through conscious eyes?
What is this agony of ecstasy
that spirals galaxies of singing gods
through maze of memories I write in spells
to reincarnate my genes in new child?
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