Thursday, January 31, 2019

How My Brain Contemplates Words

How My Brain Contemplates Words
© Surazeus
2019 01 31

Breathing in and out air of sizzling brains,
to hear immortal spirits underground
crawling through thick doom of forgotten truth,
I touch trunks of trees that curl tangled roots
around my rotting heart, then wear clean mask
carved from wood of the last faith-eating tree.

Deeper inward to where lost memories rot
in rancid logic of teachable action,
we study themes of music compositions
to understand each pause of naked silence
that sparks our leaps up levels of desire
so my belief reprises in your eyes.

Brittle words frozen on tip of my tongue
ignore frugal stairway of somewhere else
when ghosts mutter secrets bought from blind sage
sideways through pretend melody of love
linked to out-spiraling spindles of genes
which design how my brain contemplates words.

New chords of angst twanging lyre of my heart
explain long division of endless quest
to count every tree that sprouts from mute hills
unfolding stairs in case of falling tower
where revolving princess of unfree passion
connects distant worlds with ladder of faith.

These alternate lives we play on glass stage
of myriad genders with paper snow flakes
key tones so our minds drift backward to island
of laughing walls where centennial rings
glimpse twilight in my eyes of rare obsession
to sail quick slipstream of time past fake Heaven.

Depthless across fathoms of rented truth
disastrous streams of light on feather wings
descend from Realm of Ideas on beams
that window clear through core of my sponge brain
to drip blood squeezed from orange of my Pole Star
so we can sail straight home to paradise.

From stars on flashing wings Polaris flies
to stand before wood mask of my new face
and rotates immortal soul of my brain
on clanging axis of cracked mental heart
which mirrors conscious deity of light
who dreams me alive from galactic core.

I dream empty rooms where we can dream rooms
of ancient lives our ancestors expressed
in shadow puppets of strange memories
we know are not ours but are ours for real
from signs woven by winds that rustle books
on cluttered desk in ruined tower of truth.

Birds in writhing trees who disguise my soul
sing in chorus of memories that curl tight
shadows of people I love on lush bank
of naked river where vanishing walls
converge through untouchable door of water
till I cradle snake eggs on garden path.

Intention to rise outward from cracked skull
urges my attempt to become sea wind
satisfied at rebirth of nameless souls
born on silent mountain of jolting change
who proclaim emptiness of sorrow king
of present intimacy hidden by shadows.

Secret codes hidden in fur of deaf fox
reveal struck passion of lightning star
through my night messenger who designs words
depicting shape of hills to indicate
why shadow of my soul encloses light
from countless stars trapped inside molecules.

Cylinders of rockets glow cold lamp light
crackling on long lines of telephone wires
to collect progressive proverbs we paint
on every door locked in labyrinth of hope
which reveals intense scale of prophecy
bound in essence of this imagined house.

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