Horror Of Being Alive © Surazeus 2024 01 30 The splintered sun still wants to tell me why dead angels stuck in brains of human beings crawl naked walls of anguish to escape beautiful hymns of peace in glass church hall which floats above vast maze of restless cars to make peace with horror of being alive. The spinning door in stone castle of ghosts delights in holding bruised fruit of the heart because beauty kills more beautiful things despite suspicious formulas of faith we hide in boxes on shelves in dank cells along with photos of people we love. The crashing clock of meticulous time reveals no problem I would dare to solve when I crawl on broken hands of desire up stairway to Heaven above abyss that smiles at me with horror of fake truth when I fall backward in the hungry sea. The heaving island of the night before throws me into cruel world of broken bones, enslaved by image of my pretty face that shines in mirror of ten thousand eyes as quaint display in mausoleum hall where children insult my idol with names. The blasting shadow of arrogant books divides my world view into sacred myths describing how my soul was formed from slime that slithers up dark river flow of words toward lonely tree that weeps by lake of eyes where I think about your face till I die. The screaming cavern of reluctant gods protects blind prophet of the bleeding orange from profit margin of the market hand who snatches treasure from my pounding heart that soars away on eagle wings of fame to find plane Minerva crashed in the sea. The howling owl for twenty thousand years still reigns as emperor on gold pyramid with silent judgment jesters write on scrolls recording who wins his chess games with Death while slaves escape in mists of Avalon to flee safe jeweled walls of paradise. The singing sky remembers why the Earth erupts hot lava from chaotic lust to form firm mountains of my confidence so as son of the Seraph with three eyes I comprehend true nature of the light to make peace with horror of being alive.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Tuesday, January 30, 2024
Horror Of Being Alive
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