Catch Me If You Can
© Surazeus
2018 08 11
He wanders so deep in the labyrinth
of illusions that no one can tell how
fast the flowers blossom from his cracked skull
shiny as the mirror in hall where kings
judged and executed wise heretics
who talked to the God who does not exist.
So Hippolytus stops into the bookstore
and spends three hours looking at picture books
of horses that still live wild in lush meadows
till bankers develop new shopping malls
for people to purchase paintings and statues
of horses galloping with the west wind.
Artemis presides over the lagoon
on soft-sand beach by the star-sparkling sea,
that thunders with aching beat of horse hooves
when Phaedra races chariot of brass wheels
flashing in moonlight, silver as her eyes,
beyond the far horizon of my hopes.
Even the clearest sign on the highway,
revealing where the treasure was concealed,
will never tell you, based on tattered chart,
where he now walks in labyrinth of mirrors
because you can only see your real face
if you try to follow him through the maze.
He remembers every thought in your mind
that ever wafted on waterfall breeze,
and tried to suppress with embarrassed grin,
because his brain receives your dream transmissions
on cosmic radio waves of soul perception
each time he captures your thoughts in weird riddles.
The blind-folded Muse in the long pink gown
extends six arms on each side of her shoulders,
pretending to be Icarus the Sky-Walker,
then explains to me with algebra riddles
secret process of vision conjuration
so I can see how we reincarnate our genes.
While Hippolytus rides through misty woods
I visit Phaedra in glass castle of skulls
who explain in ten thousand languages
how countless worlds spiral from the White Whole
to generate conscious spirits of water
since we are alone on our fragile sphere.
So catch me if you can while I dance wild
with spirit of Bacchus that shines again
after wandering around mountains ten years
gathering ancient scrolls of forgotten tales
which explicate heroic deeds of great men
who now rot under roots of apple trees.
© Surazeus
2018 08 11
He wanders so deep in the labyrinth
of illusions that no one can tell how
fast the flowers blossom from his cracked skull
shiny as the mirror in hall where kings
judged and executed wise heretics
who talked to the God who does not exist.
So Hippolytus stops into the bookstore
and spends three hours looking at picture books
of horses that still live wild in lush meadows
till bankers develop new shopping malls
for people to purchase paintings and statues
of horses galloping with the west wind.
Artemis presides over the lagoon
on soft-sand beach by the star-sparkling sea,
that thunders with aching beat of horse hooves
when Phaedra races chariot of brass wheels
flashing in moonlight, silver as her eyes,
beyond the far horizon of my hopes.
Even the clearest sign on the highway,
revealing where the treasure was concealed,
will never tell you, based on tattered chart,
where he now walks in labyrinth of mirrors
because you can only see your real face
if you try to follow him through the maze.
He remembers every thought in your mind
that ever wafted on waterfall breeze,
and tried to suppress with embarrassed grin,
because his brain receives your dream transmissions
on cosmic radio waves of soul perception
each time he captures your thoughts in weird riddles.
The blind-folded Muse in the long pink gown
extends six arms on each side of her shoulders,
pretending to be Icarus the Sky-Walker,
then explains to me with algebra riddles
secret process of vision conjuration
so I can see how we reincarnate our genes.
While Hippolytus rides through misty woods
I visit Phaedra in glass castle of skulls
who explain in ten thousand languages
how countless worlds spiral from the White Whole
to generate conscious spirits of water
since we are alone on our fragile sphere.
So catch me if you can while I dance wild
with spirit of Bacchus that shines again
after wandering around mountains ten years
gathering ancient scrolls of forgotten tales
which explicate heroic deeds of great men
who now rot under roots of apple trees.
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