Absent Moon Calls Me © Surazeus 2024 12 19 If absent moon calls me out of my mind one demon star swells larger than my heart, yet I sway dizzy from vastness of time when I rise from bed in cold predawn gloom as whisper of your church dress fills the room with shadows of thoughts no one ever shares. Though spin of timeless fantasy unspools reflective phonemes woven into spells, I mispronounce secret name in my heart to glide over boundaries of ancient truths which separate boundless domains of faith in precious gardens where wild children fly. In rooms of white paper where windows cry my eyes bloom lavenders of humble hope to twist Me with We in spiraling loops which still conflate strange personalities with standard characters in romance tales who become ghosts in television screens. I beam rays of consciousness from my eyes as radio signals seeking to transmit conceptual vision of my weird world view across soft silence of snow-frosted fields, so I calmly claim I am the bold farmer who transforms the waste land into lush Eden. I take for granted the concept of land defining space of dirt where I alone have right to dwell in harmony with Nature who churns fresh cow milk into honey butter we spread on bread of arrogant dismay when flap of butterfly wings changes fate. Absence must be fierce desire of my heart to join the circus and travel the world so I can find the faceless mate I love who waits for me in the lace-quiet room while my ghost plays soothing piano tunes that swirl into the television screen. Leaning over Bridge of Forgetfulness, I almost hear whispers of faceless ghosts who laugh at how I try to understand constant motion of water in the brain which animates our universe of forms incarnate in children who invent names. I try to meditate with calm discourse, but swelling pulse of sweet anxiety explodes in verses writhing serpent-wild when I wrap tentacles of mental demons in variant bundles of conceptual truth for hungry people to eat psychic cake.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Thursday, December 19, 2024
Absent Moon Calls Me
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Orpheus serves psychic cake to refugees from war who followed beacon of Liberty across the waste land to gather in the temple of broken masks.
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