Bougainvillea Of My Heart © Surazeus 2026 03 11 Lost in harsh waste land of the modern world, I find bougainvillea of my heart thriving through resilience of suffering with cool menace of eye-enchanting flowers concealing unnoticed thorns of despair with treacherous allure of sirenic beauty. Enduring legacy of my grandmothers, within bougainvillea of my heart, thrives with fragile compassion of respect connecting my body with my ancestors as scarlet flowers shroud crumbling tombstones with persistent beauty in ruined homes. Flourishing in vast cement maze of myths, vital bougainvillea of my heart conquers the world with scarlet privilege through nostalgia for lost time of ripe oranges that drip with blood of angels on my lips when I consume resources of the Earth. Flower-crowned mask of my delicate nymph, who tends bougainvillea of my heart with nurturing hands of innocent faith, reflects divine face of wise Mother Earth, reborn each generation from her womb through brave extension of life after death. Vibrant beauty of resilient strength, that blooms bougainvillea of my heart, veils shattered ruins of democracy where skeletons dance with bears in red rain with the grateful dead of our burning land as immigrants displaced by endless wars. Kneeling in hilly jungle of Brazil to sketch bougainvillea of my heart, Jeanne Baret studies its delicate leaves that hide treacherous thorns of bitterness, amazed at how it flourishes in ash as deep pink gash of death-defying beauty. Both beautiful and dreadful, fragile blossoms that mask bougainvillea of my heart, sprout from roots that curl deep into hard soil, gripping rocks of mountains with angel hands which suppresses depression with fierce joy of urgent passion to live beyond death. Tangled in excessive tendrils of faith, wired from bougainvillea of my heart, I struggle against bounds of time and space to expand scope of curious consciousness broad enough to enclose every lost soul who attends show in garden of blind ghosts.
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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Wednesday, March 11, 2026
Bougainvillea Of My Heart
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Orpheus attempts to rip huge tangled vines of bougainvillea from walls of the Garden of Eden, but their thorny tendrils trap him in anguish of paradise.
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