How We Survive World Wars © Surazeus 2023 05 21 When I spring from my American life, after being nailed to the train boxcar where I hang for ninety-seven years, I will sing about everything I see while traveling mute from sea to shining sea so you can dream how we survive world wars. I chant my sick country from its deathbed while plucking strings of my sun-warped guitar to mock tyranny of the bitter king who leads gangs of angry men with hot guns to oppose justice of democracy while I sing folk songs on the network show. With dull tongues of Cerberus I expose tyrants wearing business suits and red ties who impose system of plutocracy to implement authoritarian state that hands the wealthy reins to subjugate we the people who labor for their greed. With wings of devils tangled in my heart I leap into bright mirror of world mind to fly with flashing eyes in maze of myths so I can find the laughing skull of Zeus whose spirit wakes in anguish of my heart as fierce warrior who rules my tribe with love. I start weird alchemy of melting clocks to program visions of subjective brains with universal truths of psychic laws defined by scientists through formulas that describe physical functions of love which operate our life chemical machine. Conceived through grief of my arrogant faith, I rise in monstrous form of swirling smoke from bright explosion of Plutonian ghosts which measure slow decay of endless time in terms of sea waves swirling in my eyes that open bright in moon sphere of my brain. We lie embraced in flashing rays of light that flicker through reticulated leaves connecting topology of our dreams in clustered ethernet of angel brains that weave our bodies with genetic coils so we become the other beyond death. Though my heart beats inside stone of the land with swirling shadow of the glorious face I peer into heart of darkness that glows with heart-aching passion to dominate crowded stage on the ziggurat of power where Ishtar teaches us how to sing truth.
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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