Since I Am Godot
© Surazeus
2018 11 13
If you want to wait by dead Tree of Life
for Godot who has the key to the door
I will disguise myself as lonely waif
when I set out on world-wide singing tour.
Godot said he had some present for me
that he found inside coffin of his heart
but I would rather dance deep in the sea
then help him build another hilltop fort.
After eating mushrooms from cave of dreams,
I strip naked to sing on stale church lawn
ancient prophecies about fate of seems
while the blind witch crowns me on Stone of Scone.
Though he taught me algebra to design
world view where people rise again from death
I strove hard to believe that lie in vain
but break free to dance wild on windy heath.
When I come back from desolate paradise
I tell Godot resurrection is false
so he offers to invent my new face
if I will star in his weird Broadway farce.
I marry the girl who wears black lace dress
and dance in moonlight to savor the truth
that empires are constructed on money base
when messiah is replaced by the sleuth.
Now that we are friends again after war
to end all wars, Godot and I fly kite
to photograph spinning of the Earth core
that flashes with souls of angels in flight.
You know what I sing makes no sense at all
because we find faces in swirling clouds
lost in epiphany of waterfall
after I name all our forgotten roads.
Late evening alone on dark country road,
I photograph timeless heart-aching sky,
calculating faith of the social code
till I realize Godot is the true I.
Gray clouds drip rain on frail tree canopies
when I search Seattle neighborhood streets
for secret of fame in hot apple pies
so I chant spells like blind prophetic Beats.
I dream star light sparkling in forest stream
with taste of steel towers licking my glass eye
that forms spider web into crystal dome
where I walk in wind by indifferent sea.
The daughter of Godot, princess I love,
requests I compose epic poem to prove
I am the wizard of the moonlit cove
who gathers honey from the tree beehive.
Since no one knows I am Emperor of Earth
I perform my reign without doing a thing
except sit each evening by the warm hearth
to compose poems that no one hears me sing.
Each tale recounts the way of one woke soul
who wanders lost in vast labyrinth of lies,
savoring the strange journey and not the goal
when Godot leads me to my next growth phase.
While you are waiting for Godot in vain
he teaches me Kung Fu of martial arts,
stoic self-control through strict discipline
by mapping history on new global charts.
The people I knew thirty years ago
became strangers in winding woof of time
with strands I weave in new mask for my soul
since I am Godot who will never rhyme.
© Surazeus
2018 11 13
If you want to wait by dead Tree of Life
for Godot who has the key to the door
I will disguise myself as lonely waif
when I set out on world-wide singing tour.
Godot said he had some present for me
that he found inside coffin of his heart
but I would rather dance deep in the sea
then help him build another hilltop fort.
After eating mushrooms from cave of dreams,
I strip naked to sing on stale church lawn
ancient prophecies about fate of seems
while the blind witch crowns me on Stone of Scone.
Though he taught me algebra to design
world view where people rise again from death
I strove hard to believe that lie in vain
but break free to dance wild on windy heath.
When I come back from desolate paradise
I tell Godot resurrection is false
so he offers to invent my new face
if I will star in his weird Broadway farce.
I marry the girl who wears black lace dress
and dance in moonlight to savor the truth
that empires are constructed on money base
when messiah is replaced by the sleuth.
Now that we are friends again after war
to end all wars, Godot and I fly kite
to photograph spinning of the Earth core
that flashes with souls of angels in flight.
You know what I sing makes no sense at all
because we find faces in swirling clouds
lost in epiphany of waterfall
after I name all our forgotten roads.
Late evening alone on dark country road,
I photograph timeless heart-aching sky,
calculating faith of the social code
till I realize Godot is the true I.
Gray clouds drip rain on frail tree canopies
when I search Seattle neighborhood streets
for secret of fame in hot apple pies
so I chant spells like blind prophetic Beats.
I dream star light sparkling in forest stream
with taste of steel towers licking my glass eye
that forms spider web into crystal dome
where I walk in wind by indifferent sea.
The daughter of Godot, princess I love,
requests I compose epic poem to prove
I am the wizard of the moonlit cove
who gathers honey from the tree beehive.
Since no one knows I am Emperor of Earth
I perform my reign without doing a thing
except sit each evening by the warm hearth
to compose poems that no one hears me sing.
Each tale recounts the way of one woke soul
who wanders lost in vast labyrinth of lies,
savoring the strange journey and not the goal
when Godot leads me to my next growth phase.
While you are waiting for Godot in vain
he teaches me Kung Fu of martial arts,
stoic self-control through strict discipline
by mapping history on new global charts.
The people I knew thirty years ago
became strangers in winding woof of time
with strands I weave in new mask for my soul
since I am Godot who will never rhyme.
No comments:
Post a Comment