Right Way Back To Heaven
© Surazeus
2019 01 05
Cold allegations of the rancid heart,
which leaves the corpse of the horse in the bed,
reveals hypocrisy of noble pride
black as the tar pit behind city hall
that preserves bones of officials who pray
for salvation from their zombie messiah.
We meet for coffee in bleak afternoon
and listen to wild voices of the dead
who found fake refuge on the hostile moon
to solve ancient puzzles in the cracked head
though children leap beyond the ruined wall
to hear my skull sing in the empty hall.
We see on covers of books in bright stores
faces of zombies and vampires who claim
they know the secret of success and fame
that clueless minions accept as the truth
because they saw them talking on the screen
of the glowing box God gave to Mankind.
No one but me is your messiah sleuth,
the blind man with computer wires for hair
shouts in the middle of four traffic lanes
where the red light of regulation blinks
to channel space whales who soar on fire wings
and bow before him on the pyramid.
Remember, once you enter doors of church
their hungry priests will never let you leave,
but when I find the ancient map of lies,
that explains our bodies are gene machines
which reincarnates children of our souls,
we might escape by tearing down stone walls.
While sitting alone at the street cafe,
to assemble puzzles of all lost world views
at small round table of weird platitudes,
I feel strange dizzy spell of whirling worlds
almost cast me out from heaven of truth
so I breathe ancient spirit of desire.
Still falling from heaven these thirty years,
wingless prophet of the heartless clown-king,
I soar over abyss of boundless truth
to touch infinity through blinded eyes
before sunset dissolves vision of time
till nothing changes by the flowing stream.
No one but me is your messiah sleuth,
broken robot who escaped factory
where computer brains are programmed to see
palace of heaven shining on high clouds,
so I crack the glass ceiling of blind faith
to reveal infinite nothing of truth.
I read ten thousand books of poetry
to discover strange code of liberty,
but nothing more than haughty pride of faith
oozes from cracked eggs of the singing wraith
who howls false prophecies of cosmic doom
reflected in mirror of the world room.
I ride swift gallop of my unicorn
to leap the walls of paradise at noon
before the laughing king with foul disease
seeks absolution from indifferent seas
so I can prove to doubters of my book
that I am wizard of the crumbing rook.
Though lightning strikes my tower on hill of skulls
I fly on metal wings above your town
to map vast tangled labyrinth of truth
where you still search for the Fountain of Youth,
then I referee apocalyptic game
where poets wrestle for immortal fame.
No one but me is your messiah sleuth,
so I will leave the house of haunted rooms
to follow nameless ghosts of aching hope
who spring from horror of your memory
on mission to restore democracy
though we are mindless clods in graves of love.
I climb high pyramid of singing skulls
to gaze through diamond of the cosmic eye
so I can see vast flow of history
that spirals from core of infinity
in tangled planets of subconscious love
incarnate in our bodies of the mask.
The faceless god who knows my secret name
laughs when I request proverb of the grail
so I leave behind quaint community
of blind believers to follow the rail
that leads me to the labyrinth of glass towers
where angels dress as devils in disguise.
The handless princess of the fallen kingdom
explains to me the right way back to Heaven
but I decide to marry her instead
and build her castle on the river shore
where she sings riddles by the cooking hearth
after she reveals secret of rebirth.
No one but me is your messiah sleuth,
proclaims the preacher in the church of glass
beyond encounters of the seventh kind,
so I design new model in my mind
that replicates structure of the White Whole
which mirrors features of my private soul.
© Surazeus
2019 01 05
Cold allegations of the rancid heart,
which leaves the corpse of the horse in the bed,
reveals hypocrisy of noble pride
black as the tar pit behind city hall
that preserves bones of officials who pray
for salvation from their zombie messiah.
We meet for coffee in bleak afternoon
and listen to wild voices of the dead
who found fake refuge on the hostile moon
to solve ancient puzzles in the cracked head
though children leap beyond the ruined wall
to hear my skull sing in the empty hall.
We see on covers of books in bright stores
faces of zombies and vampires who claim
they know the secret of success and fame
that clueless minions accept as the truth
because they saw them talking on the screen
of the glowing box God gave to Mankind.
No one but me is your messiah sleuth,
the blind man with computer wires for hair
shouts in the middle of four traffic lanes
where the red light of regulation blinks
to channel space whales who soar on fire wings
and bow before him on the pyramid.
Remember, once you enter doors of church
their hungry priests will never let you leave,
but when I find the ancient map of lies,
that explains our bodies are gene machines
which reincarnates children of our souls,
we might escape by tearing down stone walls.
While sitting alone at the street cafe,
to assemble puzzles of all lost world views
at small round table of weird platitudes,
I feel strange dizzy spell of whirling worlds
almost cast me out from heaven of truth
so I breathe ancient spirit of desire.
Still falling from heaven these thirty years,
wingless prophet of the heartless clown-king,
I soar over abyss of boundless truth
to touch infinity through blinded eyes
before sunset dissolves vision of time
till nothing changes by the flowing stream.
No one but me is your messiah sleuth,
broken robot who escaped factory
where computer brains are programmed to see
palace of heaven shining on high clouds,
so I crack the glass ceiling of blind faith
to reveal infinite nothing of truth.
I read ten thousand books of poetry
to discover strange code of liberty,
but nothing more than haughty pride of faith
oozes from cracked eggs of the singing wraith
who howls false prophecies of cosmic doom
reflected in mirror of the world room.
I ride swift gallop of my unicorn
to leap the walls of paradise at noon
before the laughing king with foul disease
seeks absolution from indifferent seas
so I can prove to doubters of my book
that I am wizard of the crumbing rook.
Though lightning strikes my tower on hill of skulls
I fly on metal wings above your town
to map vast tangled labyrinth of truth
where you still search for the Fountain of Youth,
then I referee apocalyptic game
where poets wrestle for immortal fame.
No one but me is your messiah sleuth,
so I will leave the house of haunted rooms
to follow nameless ghosts of aching hope
who spring from horror of your memory
on mission to restore democracy
though we are mindless clods in graves of love.
I climb high pyramid of singing skulls
to gaze through diamond of the cosmic eye
so I can see vast flow of history
that spirals from core of infinity
in tangled planets of subconscious love
incarnate in our bodies of the mask.
The faceless god who knows my secret name
laughs when I request proverb of the grail
so I leave behind quaint community
of blind believers to follow the rail
that leads me to the labyrinth of glass towers
where angels dress as devils in disguise.
The handless princess of the fallen kingdom
explains to me the right way back to Heaven
but I decide to marry her instead
and build her castle on the river shore
where she sings riddles by the cooking hearth
after she reveals secret of rebirth.
No one but me is your messiah sleuth,
proclaims the preacher in the church of glass
beyond encounters of the seventh kind,
so I design new model in my mind
that replicates structure of the White Whole
which mirrors features of my private soul.
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