Singing Angel Of Death © Surazeus 2024 04 29 I follow the amethyst butterfly through ghastly forest of obsolete faith to grotesque candor of infernal cave where dreams of every soul who ever lives flicker long scenes on television screens that form ommateum of the spider queen. Macabre alarm of the orgulous spell clangs loudly through excessive halls of steel where faceless people run in frantic haste, endlessly lost in changing maze of myths, to find grand temple of the singing skull that morphs into egg of the weeping witch. Stuck in the cold white room of nothing else, mouth stuffed full of pages from ancient books that bleed ominous words from sponge-wet brains which transform into golem with pearl eyes flashing with bewildered visions of fear, I wait for the singing angel of death. Dark shadow of my traumatizing hope looms over corpse of my dismembered mind at whistling wonder of the falling bombs that shatter mirror-blanked ghosts of the dead who linger near explosive tombs of truth enwrapped in wretched laughter of insight. Instead of wailing with gnashing of teeth in broken-hearted horror as you die from body-crushing accident of trust, I will sing enchanting psalm of despair to soothe your journey to the otherworld as your soul vanishes after you die. Through devastating awkwardness of love based on brutal regret of honest speech I climb bizarre walls of paradise lost to wander moonlit ruins without books in dreadful temple of the laughing god while searching for soul of America. Yet still glass telephone on the wall rings with menacing calm of insistent hope, so I reach out my hand across the void with trepidatious calm of reckless faith which bonds our hearts with romantic rapport strong enough to save our souls when we drown. When I find the amethyst butterfly slowly fanning her wings of arrogance on my secret Book of Life by the rose, I sip sweet pungent wine of holy blood from grail I fashioned from skull of Orpheus who weeps for Ophelia in lake of eyes.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Monday, April 29, 2024
Singing Angel Of Death
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