Seething Ghosts Of Energy © Surazeus 2019 03 12 I preserve my sorrows in the cool fridge so I can eat them when my hungry soul aches for proverbial wisdom of friendship, then every word we speak in confidence I bury in the backyard of lost hopes to publish pithy phrases for respect. Instant grammar of the twisted concern for passionate embrace in silver light of the moon that laughs at our sacred love still calculates how many likes we earn for every poem we post on instagram in desperate hope our wisdom is no scam. The sweet illusion of my gentle self I paint on social media hides the mask I design from those humorous anecdotes I tell everyone at the dinner party to share our precious stories of survival as true citizen of America. From each migroaggression I create honest identity as the oppressed which I play on social stage of state power to earn credits of loyal love from strangers who apply admiration of respect which paints idol of my good character. With choir of social justice warriors I tweet coded phrases to earn salvation in the paradise of good reputation which flickers as shadow on the cave wall where we preserve delusions of grandeur while burning violators at the stake. We strip away sarcasm of intent to expose raw nerves of humiliation when angry mobs of vigilantes crowd court of public opinion to condemn those who dare to entertain nuanced views which explain strange complexity of life. We are engaged in a great civil war where, instead of wild gangs of angry boys shooting each other with guns of despair, fierce gangs of social justice warriors attack each other with sarcastic jibes and dox new victims to destroy their lives. What strange adrenaline rush of desire can energize our bodies with contempt to drink delusion of unquestioned right and howl at strangers, drunk with argument that proves they are evil and should be killed in brutal battle to define the state. People entrenched in ideology on both sides of the partisan divide shoot sarcastic jokes of hostile contempt to bomb opposing groups into submission by accusing souls on the other side of wishing to enforce rules of behavior. People always contest for power to write new narrative of truth that will define good and evil characters in our play of national history as struggle to live by presenting players on the public stage as god or devil in the war for truth. Whoever wins the struggle for control writes the story of who is right or wrong, though the wisest ones will sing the weird song about evolution from the White Whole that accounts for contest to reproduce, for we are seething ghosts of energy. The Earth generated our souls from slime so we consume each other to survive, evolving forms to match environment on constant progress to replicate soul as we dance laughing over deep abyss on bridge of ambition to become God.
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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