Ghost In My Heart
© Surazeus
2018 10 20
This strange night, hidden as ghost in my heart,
where mist conceals whispered thoughts of desire,
pubescent planet reproducing spirits
fragile as porcelain ice, naked wind
open to new concepts long buried deep
inside glass tube that translates beams of light
into images of people on silver screens
so long dead their bones were ground into dust
where seeds sprout into long raspberry vines,
still wrapped in large box with pretty silk bow
of feminine future, since our hormones
blind our eyes to ambition for great art,
so this strange night I hold you in my arms
and kiss the fantasy of you I want.
Rabulous radicles of hungry trees
pervade soil of my pulsing heart to play
role of the narcomancer who reveals
secrets of the future to speculate
events that will never occur at all
because once I envision how they happen
factors of fortune reprogram our actions
so we grow into the stale stereotype
our parents escaped when they attained role
wanting to follow wafture of our souls
since I transform, with baculus of faith,
vigorous viduity of our hearts
into wise courage for dire dromomania
which is why I leave home many times.
What will be found on the plain by the river
somewhere far beyond land surveyors map
when the boy who left home, running on foot,
returns home to the grove of apple trees
as head of the army of wandering souls
since he promised them land of milk and honey
when they invade garden of paradise
and trample grapes of wrath, demanding justice
though my eyes were blurred by tachistoscope
of glasses shattered to reveal strange truth
about torsibility through tosh totient
that tosticates the totem of my tribe,
flushed by dioptric argument for truth
which is why I stand in the same doorway.
This strange night, flowers blooming in cement cracks
to destroy thousand prisons of silent rooms
releasing mute souls, as we stare at light
to see invisible puzzle of sects
connected by common tales of lost heroes,
although each face who sees me with glass eyes
knows unspoken name branded on my head,
since nature heals the ancient weary spirit,
so here we glide along highways of dreams
which haunt our steps when we try to escape
heaven where we live forever frozen blank,
which is when I find my name carved on stone
I play chess with Death, who redeems my brain
to play light, hidden as ghost in my heart.
© Surazeus
2018 10 20
This strange night, hidden as ghost in my heart,
where mist conceals whispered thoughts of desire,
pubescent planet reproducing spirits
fragile as porcelain ice, naked wind
open to new concepts long buried deep
inside glass tube that translates beams of light
into images of people on silver screens
so long dead their bones were ground into dust
where seeds sprout into long raspberry vines,
still wrapped in large box with pretty silk bow
of feminine future, since our hormones
blind our eyes to ambition for great art,
so this strange night I hold you in my arms
and kiss the fantasy of you I want.
Rabulous radicles of hungry trees
pervade soil of my pulsing heart to play
role of the narcomancer who reveals
secrets of the future to speculate
events that will never occur at all
because once I envision how they happen
factors of fortune reprogram our actions
so we grow into the stale stereotype
our parents escaped when they attained role
wanting to follow wafture of our souls
since I transform, with baculus of faith,
vigorous viduity of our hearts
into wise courage for dire dromomania
which is why I leave home many times.
What will be found on the plain by the river
somewhere far beyond land surveyors map
when the boy who left home, running on foot,
returns home to the grove of apple trees
as head of the army of wandering souls
since he promised them land of milk and honey
when they invade garden of paradise
and trample grapes of wrath, demanding justice
though my eyes were blurred by tachistoscope
of glasses shattered to reveal strange truth
about torsibility through tosh totient
that tosticates the totem of my tribe,
flushed by dioptric argument for truth
which is why I stand in the same doorway.
This strange night, flowers blooming in cement cracks
to destroy thousand prisons of silent rooms
releasing mute souls, as we stare at light
to see invisible puzzle of sects
connected by common tales of lost heroes,
although each face who sees me with glass eyes
knows unspoken name branded on my head,
since nature heals the ancient weary spirit,
so here we glide along highways of dreams
which haunt our steps when we try to escape
heaven where we live forever frozen blank,
which is when I find my name carved on stone
I play chess with Death, who redeems my brain
to play light, hidden as ghost in my heart.
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