Build Paradise After World War
© Surazeus
2018 10 23
My heart splits where the flowing stream divides,
for what I sing is from my dream alone
to flourish from excess of pulsing hope
smooth enough to hide bitter edge of fear
which fuels my rampage in temple of lies
to smash the statues of oppressive gods.
Should we so celebrate arrogant men
who enslaved people to generate wealth
so they can purchase positions of power
and judge our actions so they can decide
who gets to live and eat in paradise
and who labors in mines and factories?
Exhaust from smoke stacks of factories
hangs in thick smog that smudges the sun gray,
and seeps in frail bones of our skeletons
hopeless despair infected by lost love
so even flowers wither to ghosts of summer
who crawl shivering over roots of dead trees.
She leans over the fountain in town square
and pours water over her long smooth hair
then laughs, eyes sparkling with joy of the stars,
while I watch amazed her elegant grace
when she dances in wet dress on frail grass
to transform moon light into my new eyes.
Leaning close so her breath blusters sea wind,
she explains the secret of flight in riddles
while I arrange weird pieces of the puzzle
to see bright shadows of her ancient soul
revealed in petals spiraling from flowers
to become the flawed human I adore.
This civilization of dream machines
sprouting mushrooms from sponges of our brains
encompasses every cult of the world
in one soul-binding religion of truth
measured by tools to interpret code atoms
which formulate these bodies we inhabit.
The old blind man alone in the sea cave
chants weird spells in long-forgotten language
that no one speaks but ghosts of those who died
without generating children from genes,
then stacks stones in temples where we feast
on roast fish he caught with web of his thoughts.
He would tell us the true meaning of life
but its code only works to calculate
atomic reactions through human love
when we embrace with passionate desire
to kiss in rain falling from shattered eyes
since that meaning only works for his soul.
I crawl the ocean floor on fingered fins
toward exquisite beauty of glowing eye
who explains how I can reincarnate
soul again in flesh of my hungry hope
so we dance together in ring of stones
where all our ancestors dance with us bright.
Each ancestral soul tangled in my genes
gazes at our old world from my new eyes,
amazed when I drive the car on the road
as if magic power from beams of the sun
motivates quick speed of my time machine
when I zoom far around the spinning globe.
When you enter cathedral of my verse
to read riddles I paint on endless walls,
observe intricate lattice of concepts
that weaves vast tapestry of ancient tales
depicting heroes whose names we forgot
so we invent new heroes from the news.
She laughs so sweetly with angelic voice
I dream strange wisdom from her harmony
appearing clear in formulas of types
so I can calculate future events
that never happen on chess board of power
while I lounge on the river shore and sing.
When I pause in my chanting ancient spells
that conjure visions of all time at once
I stare amazed yet pleased in your strange eyes,
delighted to see you keep up with me
as we go dancing through the labyrinth
that constitutes temple of history.
Take some face from the ancient gallery
and wear it to channel through active play
spirit of the faceless god in one soul
so we comprehend how they viewed the world
through process of their quest for sacred truth
to reincarnate through flesh of our child.
Standing on starlit peak of Mount Takoma,
I gaze back along trail of my ancestors
to see where they once stood on Mount Parnassos
and together we watch drama unfold
where one thousand conquerors for one sage
bloody the world with greed instead of truth.
Now that I see all history with one eye
I cartograph its principles of change
to analyze strange concepts of desire
that tangle human destinies in webs
of aching conflict to reproduce souls
who may build paradise after world war.
© Surazeus
2018 10 23
My heart splits where the flowing stream divides,
for what I sing is from my dream alone
to flourish from excess of pulsing hope
smooth enough to hide bitter edge of fear
which fuels my rampage in temple of lies
to smash the statues of oppressive gods.
Should we so celebrate arrogant men
who enslaved people to generate wealth
so they can purchase positions of power
and judge our actions so they can decide
who gets to live and eat in paradise
and who labors in mines and factories?
Exhaust from smoke stacks of factories
hangs in thick smog that smudges the sun gray,
and seeps in frail bones of our skeletons
hopeless despair infected by lost love
so even flowers wither to ghosts of summer
who crawl shivering over roots of dead trees.
She leans over the fountain in town square
and pours water over her long smooth hair
then laughs, eyes sparkling with joy of the stars,
while I watch amazed her elegant grace
when she dances in wet dress on frail grass
to transform moon light into my new eyes.
Leaning close so her breath blusters sea wind,
she explains the secret of flight in riddles
while I arrange weird pieces of the puzzle
to see bright shadows of her ancient soul
revealed in petals spiraling from flowers
to become the flawed human I adore.
This civilization of dream machines
sprouting mushrooms from sponges of our brains
encompasses every cult of the world
in one soul-binding religion of truth
measured by tools to interpret code atoms
which formulate these bodies we inhabit.
The old blind man alone in the sea cave
chants weird spells in long-forgotten language
that no one speaks but ghosts of those who died
without generating children from genes,
then stacks stones in temples where we feast
on roast fish he caught with web of his thoughts.
He would tell us the true meaning of life
but its code only works to calculate
atomic reactions through human love
when we embrace with passionate desire
to kiss in rain falling from shattered eyes
since that meaning only works for his soul.
I crawl the ocean floor on fingered fins
toward exquisite beauty of glowing eye
who explains how I can reincarnate
soul again in flesh of my hungry hope
so we dance together in ring of stones
where all our ancestors dance with us bright.
Each ancestral soul tangled in my genes
gazes at our old world from my new eyes,
amazed when I drive the car on the road
as if magic power from beams of the sun
motivates quick speed of my time machine
when I zoom far around the spinning globe.
When you enter cathedral of my verse
to read riddles I paint on endless walls,
observe intricate lattice of concepts
that weaves vast tapestry of ancient tales
depicting heroes whose names we forgot
so we invent new heroes from the news.
She laughs so sweetly with angelic voice
I dream strange wisdom from her harmony
appearing clear in formulas of types
so I can calculate future events
that never happen on chess board of power
while I lounge on the river shore and sing.
When I pause in my chanting ancient spells
that conjure visions of all time at once
I stare amazed yet pleased in your strange eyes,
delighted to see you keep up with me
as we go dancing through the labyrinth
that constitutes temple of history.
Take some face from the ancient gallery
and wear it to channel through active play
spirit of the faceless god in one soul
so we comprehend how they viewed the world
through process of their quest for sacred truth
to reincarnate through flesh of our child.
Standing on starlit peak of Mount Takoma,
I gaze back along trail of my ancestors
to see where they once stood on Mount Parnassos
and together we watch drama unfold
where one thousand conquerors for one sage
bloody the world with greed instead of truth.
Now that I see all history with one eye
I cartograph its principles of change
to analyze strange concepts of desire
that tangle human destinies in webs
of aching conflict to reproduce souls
who may build paradise after world war.
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