Heroic Exploits Defeating Death
© Surazeus
2019 01 22
The snow that never falls on southern hills
conceals strange interactions that occur
between strangers and lovers every day
in plays never recorded by machines.
Dramatic moments in history of man
flash sparks from conflict of opposing wills
when different groups fight with weapons and words
to control narrative of their success.
Before the temple of the stone-faced god
who gazes blindly at human events
people gather to proclaim their desires
and protest injustice against their cause.
The statue of the man who freed the slaves
towers above mortal humans who chant
assertion to perform their roles in life
pursuing happiness through liberty.
The sun that never shines on northern hills
reveals weird interactions that connect
strangers as lovers in game of desire
to replicate immortal soul of genes.
If we are pawns in vast chess game of power
we wonder who plays king and queen of truth
manipulating how we act each day
to maintain ritual of producing food.
I kneel in soil to tend fruit trees and herbs
that flourish in sparkles of sun and rain
which shimmer silver song in maze of homes
where children play in quiet river towns.
Empires of institutions run by gods
are built on strong backs of farmers and craftsmen
who generate goods from soil of the Earth
while greedy men fight to control that soil.
The rain that never falls on western hills
exposes lost ruins of religious cults
so seekers dig up statues of dead gods
who once enslaved our people to their will.
I stand on mountain of the laughing god
who shows me constant warfare to control
narrative for who has the right to rule,
as skulls of kings crumble in cave of shadows.
Walking everywhere across curving land,
I measure distances with marking rule
then map the contours of our seething minds
to navigate maze of opposing ideas.
The winners of endless contests for power
outwit each other in landscape maneuvers
to win the hearts of people with grand tales
of their heroic exploits defeating death.
The wind that never blows on eastern hills
buries computer towers of steel and glass
as spinning Earth consumes cities of men
to erase our grand monuments from time.
The endless winds of change sweeping the globe
will erase even the huge pyramids
by eroding atoms of sturdy hope
till all palaces of power disappear.
What ancient monuments dinosaurs built
lie buried deep under apple-lush hills
where lovers meet to make love in warm light
and teach their children how to sing new tales?
I play my part in game of terran history,
mapping human progress across the globe,
and chanting epic tales of noble heroes,
though all will vanish with the turning world.
© Surazeus
2019 01 22
The snow that never falls on southern hills
conceals strange interactions that occur
between strangers and lovers every day
in plays never recorded by machines.
Dramatic moments in history of man
flash sparks from conflict of opposing wills
when different groups fight with weapons and words
to control narrative of their success.
Before the temple of the stone-faced god
who gazes blindly at human events
people gather to proclaim their desires
and protest injustice against their cause.
The statue of the man who freed the slaves
towers above mortal humans who chant
assertion to perform their roles in life
pursuing happiness through liberty.
The sun that never shines on northern hills
reveals weird interactions that connect
strangers as lovers in game of desire
to replicate immortal soul of genes.
If we are pawns in vast chess game of power
we wonder who plays king and queen of truth
manipulating how we act each day
to maintain ritual of producing food.
I kneel in soil to tend fruit trees and herbs
that flourish in sparkles of sun and rain
which shimmer silver song in maze of homes
where children play in quiet river towns.
Empires of institutions run by gods
are built on strong backs of farmers and craftsmen
who generate goods from soil of the Earth
while greedy men fight to control that soil.
The rain that never falls on western hills
exposes lost ruins of religious cults
so seekers dig up statues of dead gods
who once enslaved our people to their will.
I stand on mountain of the laughing god
who shows me constant warfare to control
narrative for who has the right to rule,
as skulls of kings crumble in cave of shadows.
Walking everywhere across curving land,
I measure distances with marking rule
then map the contours of our seething minds
to navigate maze of opposing ideas.
The winners of endless contests for power
outwit each other in landscape maneuvers
to win the hearts of people with grand tales
of their heroic exploits defeating death.
The wind that never blows on eastern hills
buries computer towers of steel and glass
as spinning Earth consumes cities of men
to erase our grand monuments from time.
The endless winds of change sweeping the globe
will erase even the huge pyramids
by eroding atoms of sturdy hope
till all palaces of power disappear.
What ancient monuments dinosaurs built
lie buried deep under apple-lush hills
where lovers meet to make love in warm light
and teach their children how to sing new tales?
I play my part in game of terran history,
mapping human progress across the globe,
and chanting epic tales of noble heroes,
though all will vanish with the turning world.
No comments:
Post a Comment