Garden Of The Broken Gate © Surazeus 2019 03 12 This war that rages all around my head is nothing more than illusions of words billowing as smoke from mouths of the dead who follow each other in howling herds. We shoot each other with sarcastic jibes to prove that we are right and they are wrong then go about our boring daily lives to eat despair and suppress the weird song. We encode dreams to calculate fate so we can navigate vast maze of lies while dodging volleys of aggressive hate that splatter ideologies through eyes. This civil war we fight to define truth destroys delusions of our noble state so every soul becomes messiah sleuth as we contest right to investigate. We crucify god on telephone pole who reigned as our tyrant in the White House so we interview who will play king role to overthrow messiah of blind clowns. The triumvirate of three emperors who rule world empire of national pride vanishes in clear light of honest mirrors where the new queen of the world will abide. When Mother Amen on first pyramid reveals creation of our universe how we evolved from the first phoronid she heals our wounded hearts as psychic nurse. When illusion of empire falls apart we dance in ring of stones to celebrate then design and create new worldview chart that leads from garden of the broken gate.
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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