Golden Age Of Greed © Surazeus 2025 04 06 If alphabets eat our worm-writhing dreams, the faster way to find rebirth from silence might be to drive all night on desert roads while scattering apple seeds along the highway since wind knocks down every legible sign to lament faces of gods on the vine. Overwhelmed by thoughts no one dares to speak, I breathe excessive laughter of the moon in pursuit of profits bleeding from trees propelled by infinite hope for true love as humble contortion of endless tales disguised by optical freedom of whales. Catalyst of life with battery brain observing skeptical truths redesigned by carefully controlled sadism of faith, I wonder why my weird concept of life reflects reality no one else sees except for me with television eyes. Illusion of trampled dreams by the lake reveals exponential profit from hope extracted by screaming media that cheats with selfish luxury of swirling snow through insurance purchased from the blind king who tries to sell me his last broken wing. My mother tells me just before she dies that every spirit still remains alive until their name is uttered by the dead, but all I hear outside the fractured window is demons howling in the hungry rain so I keep doing the things that are vain. Returning from dark boundary of despair, I bring the golden fleece of nothingness as prize I stole from the sad mountain seer who throws our holy books in desert dust to prove wisdom topples idols of gods who scorn our worship from their seedless pods. Anger wild as ocean waves smashing stones insults the honest executioner sent to restore the golden age of greed betrayed at dawn by alligator clowns who scream at their faces in mirror time that we are angels who evolve from slime. Words I paint with blood on the stone church wall reflect pure splendor of the godless sky with consolation of the bleeding star while I repeat incantations of faith that Gilgamesh carves in clay of my heart so I can navigate life with my chart.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
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Sunday, April 6, 2025
Golden Age Of Greed
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Orpheus builds ten thousand car factories in the desert of alphabet dragons who eat televisions of religious faith.
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