Sunday, September 24, 2023

Road To Somewhere Else

Road To Somewhere Else
© Surazeus
2023 09 24

Between eternity and nevermore 
I walk long signless road to somewhere else, 
whistling tragic tunes from theater shows 
that only birds on phonelines understand. 
Milk glistens in glass cup in windowsill 
where seven sparrows talk about true love. 

While Sisyphus on the hotel front porch 
reads newspaper stories about world war 
his sister in the kitchen bakes peach pies 
as if the train whistle will never blow. 
Brown leaves float on silver waves of the lake 
where white-tailed deer talk about faith in rain. 

Beyond ruined walls of Heaven up north 
where car factories drink tears of hungry hope 
Sisyphus drives to Niagara Falls 
to find his daughter on the misty bridge. 
Gold sunrays seep across the office floor 
where two horned lizards talk about desire. 

Backward I walk unpaved road to my grave 
while glass eyes measure distance to the moon 
perfect for the man who designs our bridge 
to stare at his face on the silver screen. 
Soft lawn grass sighs with contentment of rage 
where clowns and dancers talk about the book. 

Photos upside down on gallery wall 
depict events in life of Sisyphus 
from hour he was born in cavern of ghosts 
till he stops pushing the boulder uphill. 
Soft breeze of sadness taps typewriter keys 
where river fairies talk about our death. 

Gaunt hands catch sunlight falling from the tree 
as if each move in our chess game reveals 
conceptual framework to base judgment calls 
on revolution we prepare with care. 
Sharp cracks of gunshots echo in church hall 
where faithful worshippers talk about lust. 

Behind invisible mask of my soul 
dark energy seethes from conceptual cave 
to trap our dream thoughts in pages of books 
that flutter raven wings for liberty. 
Smooth flow of water wears mountains to dunes 
where homeless girls talk about sacred wind. 

Bright shadows laugh from sorrow into being 
when millions of people drive cars to work 
though angels float above them in glass rain 
because I love how sensible they sound. 
Black raven wing of Sisyphus sparks joy 
where children paint our souls from nothingness. 


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