Friday, November 16, 2018

Before Our World Is Born

Before Our World Is Born
© Surazeus
2018 11 16

Alone at black grand piano of truth
which defines patriotism as strange words
I bomb tanks and hotels of journalists
each key I strike to harmonize harsh cry
through havoc of war for meadow control
since strangers play chess with grim Death disguised.

Through singularity of sound my voice
from single speaker on broad stage of power
contributes angst for unique inner life
based on false premise of my broken heart
where language intends to go beyond lies
buried in coffin of your silent book.

Each letter on keyboard I press softly
I shoot another missile to destroy
ancient ideology that cages minds
within bars of assumptions that our race
reigns supreme with right to conquer the world
and breed new generation of lithe gods.

Consider nature of chemical bodies
that generates selfish mind so I am
hungry to consume energy of atoms
sparkling in fruit that weeps when I devour
pregnant roundness that nurtures its tree seeds
which sprout forests from my sponge-pungent brain.

Asymmetry of love we share to cut
piece of wood for constructing robot house
while humming radio tunes to celebrate
how we inhabit this house full of heat
our bodies imprint on paper to capture
photograph of elusive soul we name.

The girl running for school bus in green dusk
nestles in alcove to draw pictures whole
as fractured window to contain one eye
connecting net of veins beneath thin skin
armored by throbbing faith in loyal love
alone as black spider on ice-wet glass.

Rising from my eyes the infinite road
looks in my heart to reveal hazy tiers
of houses on hills where people invent
backstory about small-town origins
so I hitchhike to house where they grew up
and bring back the book they lost in the yard.

I am the juniper tree you perceive
always still in your front yard dressed in snow
of lace nightgown to welcome three white wolves
who soothe my fear of cloud-obscuring sky
to give new name to each stranger I meet
who accepts fake stereotype without question.

When I was twelve I changed into a woman
to understand concepts of naked horror
related to how serpents sing in trees
because I want to eat the Eden Apple
before you return home from jungle war
to release your ghosts in my bleeding mouth.

The rotten wood frame crumbles from cracked glass
exposing secrets of my sweet chimera
who knows sacred shadow of ancient buildings
where skeletons dance to rock and roll music
unspooling threads of galactic desire
where sparrows on phone wires steal our lost dreams.

Subliminal bees ask shadow of me
if I want to live forever as flower
which cracks cement sidewalks of empire open
to let divine light of sublime truth in
our hollow hearts aching to drink love tears
and create new ocean where life first blooms.

I am green dragonfly on Walden Pond
hovering between moon shadow and star light
from hazel wand spiraling on frail wings
to drink tea on dunes where blind angel sings
spells to free mute girls from slavery who dance
on river shore before our world is born.

No comments:

Post a Comment