Forge The New World © Surazeus 2024 03 24 My ghost is strolling down the avenue, cheerfully waving to the faceless souls who buy plastic toys in corporate stores, because he wants to fall in love with you, then pilfer all your capitalist goals and sell them to blind angels in glass doors. Instead of working to conquer the world I prefer to stay in my cluttered home, drinking mead and playing video games, but I have to go play the cosmic herald after years when I would aimlessly roam on roads that lead nowhere in picture frames. Alone on pyramid of the One Eye that sees into dark heart of endless time, I preach salvation of the search for truth expressed with rites of science in the key that opens formulas through psychic rhyme which measure nothingness of the god wraith. Yet still I sail in river boat of faith that we incarnate from maternal womb four hundred million years to find out why how atoms work inspires messiah sleuth to find skull of Orpheus in the tomb where he still prophesies the Divine I. My ghost is typing words of magic spells that conjure visions of life-spinning Earth in minds of people born long since I die to program language charging our brain cells for when we gather at the global hearth to share stories while eating apple pie. Young woman in pink dress plays wood guitar and sings about the foolish man she loves who fails to understand her secret heart, then she explores the world in lonely car that glides winding highways past mountain coves till she gets lost in the puzzling star chart. Aware of how much more it costs these days to raise young children for lives of success, she places ancient Lyre of Mercury with Excalibur somewhere in the maze while wearing mask of the sly sorceress that everyone expects from comedy. Eating roast beef and drinking honey wine, alone in castle on the shining hill, I ponder why we rebels must destroy social structure of the old world design before we forge the new world with free will, like Rome was built new on ruins of Troy.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
No comments:
Post a Comment