Naked Laughter Of The Hurricane
© Surazeus
2018 10 10
The naked laughter of the hurricane
expresses how I feel about the world
of competition in state politics
where bold men abuse each other to prove
they are tough players in the game of power.
Leaning on the old bridge in the small town,
I look deeper in the heart of the river
to understand the flow of social change
that transforms gangsters into empire builders
who enslave the people for their own gain.
What weird angels dance in the sapphire sky
to smash the infrastructure of our pride
that we built with the anguish of our hands
by melting stone into steel skeletons
for glass towers where computers dream our worth.
How shall I dismantle wisdom of truth
to deconstruct assumptions of state power
that people always organize themselves
through strict hierarchies of authority
so we cooperate for the greater good?
On the road to success there are no shortcuts,
except when people who cling to illusion of power
twist election rules to favor their win
which prevents people from voicing their choice
for who will play god of the social state.
Our votes swirl thick and fast as snows that fall
on winter dawn when clouds and winds conspire
to blast the world with blizzard of snowflakes
which drift forever to shroud the whole world
from mountains to beaches where waves break wild.
The gushing river threads light through my heart
to bind my aching sorrow to this world
where people erect bridges over flow
of constant change to ground our pulsing souls
in harmony with anguish of desire.
Eye level with the flashing universe,
I gaze into blank mirror of the sky
where I see only my own consciousness
I misperceive as omnipotent god
who evolves itself into my frail mind.
Who thinks this blasting hurricane reveals
wrath of some angry god outside the sky
directing hostile force against mankind
for polluting the atmosphere with gas
billowing from engines of blind machines?
We write new scriptures, about origin
of this strange universe since the first flash,
with invisible ink on flashing brains
of people searching for mysterious key
to help us decode our genetic programs.
The bright eye of the mushroom dreams our souls
reflected in every raindrop that swirls
from mindless clouds to soak our sterile hearts
with aching passion to become the god
we invented as guide for how to live.
I wear the mask of the god of lost myths
who personifies each new hurricane
that howls magic spells of indifferent wind,
breathing eternal spirit of fake faith
to inspire my brain with visions of love.
We shall dance with death in the hurricane
that floods our towns with horror for the truth
so we can write our names with swirling rain
decoded by the intellectual sleuth
so we can reprogram the human brain.
When I stand on the sand of the broad beach
and feel enormous waves of roiling water
smash foundation of our civilization,
all petty competitions for state power
vanish in the indifferent wind of nature.
© Surazeus
2018 10 10
The naked laughter of the hurricane
expresses how I feel about the world
of competition in state politics
where bold men abuse each other to prove
they are tough players in the game of power.
Leaning on the old bridge in the small town,
I look deeper in the heart of the river
to understand the flow of social change
that transforms gangsters into empire builders
who enslave the people for their own gain.
What weird angels dance in the sapphire sky
to smash the infrastructure of our pride
that we built with the anguish of our hands
by melting stone into steel skeletons
for glass towers where computers dream our worth.
How shall I dismantle wisdom of truth
to deconstruct assumptions of state power
that people always organize themselves
through strict hierarchies of authority
so we cooperate for the greater good?
On the road to success there are no shortcuts,
except when people who cling to illusion of power
twist election rules to favor their win
which prevents people from voicing their choice
for who will play god of the social state.
Our votes swirl thick and fast as snows that fall
on winter dawn when clouds and winds conspire
to blast the world with blizzard of snowflakes
which drift forever to shroud the whole world
from mountains to beaches where waves break wild.
The gushing river threads light through my heart
to bind my aching sorrow to this world
where people erect bridges over flow
of constant change to ground our pulsing souls
in harmony with anguish of desire.
Eye level with the flashing universe,
I gaze into blank mirror of the sky
where I see only my own consciousness
I misperceive as omnipotent god
who evolves itself into my frail mind.
Who thinks this blasting hurricane reveals
wrath of some angry god outside the sky
directing hostile force against mankind
for polluting the atmosphere with gas
billowing from engines of blind machines?
We write new scriptures, about origin
of this strange universe since the first flash,
with invisible ink on flashing brains
of people searching for mysterious key
to help us decode our genetic programs.
The bright eye of the mushroom dreams our souls
reflected in every raindrop that swirls
from mindless clouds to soak our sterile hearts
with aching passion to become the god
we invented as guide for how to live.
I wear the mask of the god of lost myths
who personifies each new hurricane
that howls magic spells of indifferent wind,
breathing eternal spirit of fake faith
to inspire my brain with visions of love.
We shall dance with death in the hurricane
that floods our towns with horror for the truth
so we can write our names with swirling rain
decoded by the intellectual sleuth
so we can reprogram the human brain.
When I stand on the sand of the broad beach
and feel enormous waves of roiling water
smash foundation of our civilization,
all petty competitions for state power
vanish in the indifferent wind of nature.
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