Roaring Waves Of Change

Roaring Waves Of Change
© Surazeus
2025 03 04

Yellow egg splats on linoleum floor 
to illustrate process of life and death 
with voiceless agony of daily hope 
when roaring waves of change wash over us 
with frothing teeth of hunger for the free 
as we swim to the bottom of the sea. 

Thin black wolves lurk in old Victorian house, 
trotting up and down solid oakwood stairs, 
eyes gleaming gold as ancient burned-out stars, 
so we hang portraits of ghosts on blank walls 
and give our melancholy children names 
our ancestors wore to play psychic games. 

Stacking classic books of weird poetry 
on lace-covered table with glass of wine, 
cloth-covered notebook, and brass fountain pen, 
I photograph conceptual dramaty, 
then post it on my social media sites 
with snarky comment about pious kites. 

Late winter sunlight glares on window panes 
while Ellen turns soil in her garden plot, 
preparing to plant carrots, melons, corn, 
and tomatoes in land her father bought, 
then wipes her brow and gazes at the sky 
as she wonders what happens when we die. 

Ghosts of five children she birthed and raised up 
swarm around her soul in the empty house, 
and voices of their secret thoughts still echo 
in shadows behind each half-open door, 
so she closes her eyes to morning gleam 
and sips coffee as she savors their dream. 

I cannot go back in process of time 
to rearrange furniture of our hearts 
so we could better adjust cordial clocks 
to interact through accurate respect 
with cold honor toward cunning deathly ploys 
which tends to erase our sorrows and joys. 

Painting landscapes with her house among trees 
surrounded by shadows of faceless beasts 
that emanate from hearts of human beings, 
Ellen searches for ways to perceive truth 
beyond self-blinding surfaces of things, 
and sighs at sudden flutter of finch wings. 

Hiding her useless memories in books, 
Ellen encodes strong opinions about life 
in clever fairy tales of lonely girls 
who seek truth in forests of nameless ghosts 
which children in libraries like to read, 
as her rotting corpse nurtures apple seed.