Sparkling Pool Of Narcissus
© Surazeus
2019 01 18
The singer floating face-down in the pool
of moonlit blood knows why the soul requires
quaint formulas of magic spells to sing
electric passion which resurrects truth
from rotting corpses of our ancient gods
who suck our blood while we sing hymns in church.
The Raven King who rises from the dead
floats from the pool of tears with glowing eyes
to stand on stage before the roaring crowd
and twang vibrating strings of ancient lyre
Orpheus used to lead souls back from Hell,
and sings about painting the red door black.
Wild wizards of the wind on rolling stones
rumble across the island of bright mist
to follow the Raven King to Stonehenge
where elves and fairies now disguised as humans
dance in the moonlight of their aching hearts
to beam energy of love through their minds.
Stuck in the tangled wires of Cyberspace,
I fly the world wide web of ancient myths
to search libraries of the Neitherlands,
wandering with ghosts in Wood between the Worlds,
then dive down deep in portal pool of truth
to explore the multiverse of our dreams.
While wandering Wilderness of Wailing Wights,
I find the Raven King in ancient tree
that grows alone on roadless plain of Nowhere
who flutters wings and gazes in my heart
with eyes dark as lightless stars called black holes,
then weaves light-threads in neurons of my brain.
Weaving beams of light forged in ancient stars
in tapestry of visions of my brain,
the Raven King reveals process of change
transforming one-eyed sperm of sparkling seas
into wingless angels of human beings,
motivated by love to reincarnate.
Extracting from my breast my beating heart,
the Raven King molds its impulse to fly
from throbbing hammer into frail guitar
so I strum vibrant strings of jangling nerves
and chant programming spells of writhing words
that flash bright visions in your dreaming minds.
The Witch of Water leads the Raven King
dancing in Stonehenge to weave rays of light
in shimmering veil of skin for me to wear
so I wrap rancid flesh in crystal mask
and crawl from Cave of Shadows on sharp claws
then fly over cities with Earendil.
What message for mankind shall I declare,
I ask the Raven King who smiles at me
through flashing mirror of the multiverse,
then gives me book of visions with black quill,
but pages in the book are blank as clouds,
so I dip quill in my hot blood and write.
Draped in his long black cloak of raven feathers,
I stand before congregations in church
and open book of scriptures I compose
to sing new legends of old cultural heroes
who built foundation of our temple mind
and taught us how to dream the universe.
Now resurrected from the dream of death,
I am the Raven King in Tree of Life
giving ripe apples to the hungry hordes
who wander mute in wild Waste Land of Words
and sing weird visions of their dreaming eyes
in global choir of sorrow-blooming souls.
In sparkling pool of Narcissus I dive
to float in shimmering waves of star-born light
where atoms pulsing with immortal love
compose this temporary body of hope
so I live this one wild and precious life
chanting visions of the White Whole I dream.
© Surazeus
2019 01 18
The singer floating face-down in the pool
of moonlit blood knows why the soul requires
quaint formulas of magic spells to sing
electric passion which resurrects truth
from rotting corpses of our ancient gods
who suck our blood while we sing hymns in church.
The Raven King who rises from the dead
floats from the pool of tears with glowing eyes
to stand on stage before the roaring crowd
and twang vibrating strings of ancient lyre
Orpheus used to lead souls back from Hell,
and sings about painting the red door black.
Wild wizards of the wind on rolling stones
rumble across the island of bright mist
to follow the Raven King to Stonehenge
where elves and fairies now disguised as humans
dance in the moonlight of their aching hearts
to beam energy of love through their minds.
Stuck in the tangled wires of Cyberspace,
I fly the world wide web of ancient myths
to search libraries of the Neitherlands,
wandering with ghosts in Wood between the Worlds,
then dive down deep in portal pool of truth
to explore the multiverse of our dreams.
While wandering Wilderness of Wailing Wights,
I find the Raven King in ancient tree
that grows alone on roadless plain of Nowhere
who flutters wings and gazes in my heart
with eyes dark as lightless stars called black holes,
then weaves light-threads in neurons of my brain.
Weaving beams of light forged in ancient stars
in tapestry of visions of my brain,
the Raven King reveals process of change
transforming one-eyed sperm of sparkling seas
into wingless angels of human beings,
motivated by love to reincarnate.
Extracting from my breast my beating heart,
the Raven King molds its impulse to fly
from throbbing hammer into frail guitar
so I strum vibrant strings of jangling nerves
and chant programming spells of writhing words
that flash bright visions in your dreaming minds.
The Witch of Water leads the Raven King
dancing in Stonehenge to weave rays of light
in shimmering veil of skin for me to wear
so I wrap rancid flesh in crystal mask
and crawl from Cave of Shadows on sharp claws
then fly over cities with Earendil.
What message for mankind shall I declare,
I ask the Raven King who smiles at me
through flashing mirror of the multiverse,
then gives me book of visions with black quill,
but pages in the book are blank as clouds,
so I dip quill in my hot blood and write.
Draped in his long black cloak of raven feathers,
I stand before congregations in church
and open book of scriptures I compose
to sing new legends of old cultural heroes
who built foundation of our temple mind
and taught us how to dream the universe.
Now resurrected from the dream of death,
I am the Raven King in Tree of Life
giving ripe apples to the hungry hordes
who wander mute in wild Waste Land of Words
and sing weird visions of their dreaming eyes
in global choir of sorrow-blooming souls.
In sparkling pool of Narcissus I dive
to float in shimmering waves of star-born light
where atoms pulsing with immortal love
compose this temporary body of hope
so I live this one wild and precious life
chanting visions of the White Whole I dream.
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