Recognize My Own Ghost © Surazeus 2023 06 02 If I could just recognize my own ghost who rambles wearing clothes I threw away, then I could count the days of broken lutes I retrieve from fox tracks in silent woods because I fall in love with the blind queen who waits alone in the garden of dreams. But all that sorrow is long in the past in trembling hands of brides who cannot pray so I pull on my leather working boots to measure and map all the signless roads till empty temple of dead gods is clean for mothers breastfeeding by weeping streams. As lonely pilgrim on the desert trail, I feel strange holy light glow on my face, so I look for Heaven of timeless truth through magical eye of the telescope, but all I see are planets in the void teeming with creatures who fight wars to eat. I drink zinfadel from the silver grail and ponder history of the human race who never listens to messiah sleuth though his weird riddles teach us how to cope with horror of death when the wise android imitates our most emotional feat. The mystical isness of my thought ghost, defined by secret code my brain designs, grants me access to treasure chest of keys which I employ to operate with my mind unseen time machine to psychically jump through all my fake selves in the multiverse. Escaping dream maze on the storm-wracked coast to swim immiscible sea where hope shines, I stand with reverent awe in swarm of bees while lost on hopeless quest of faith to find blind queen cooking meals in the migrant camp who comprehends our clockwork universe. After I finish reading every book ever written by hands of desperate gods I bear Doom Scroll of adverse prophecies to the blind queen sitting on iron throne who commands I liberate every slave from chains of debt forged by arrogant pride. So I choose to marry ambitious cook who has no time for deceivers or frauds while I draft social program policies to build paradise in the twilight zone while dreaming of you in the jeweled cave before global empires of wealth collide.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Friday, June 2, 2023
Recognize My Own Ghost
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment