Fix My Fluid Soul

Fix My Fluid Soul
© Surazeus
2024 05 08

The sun is still sucking the sea from books 
because to love mirrors to die in tongue 
our first father uses to lick the toad 
which pierces his sponge brain with apple words 
that explode in nuclear flash of insight 
as shadows of things on wall of the cave. 

Because his brain is drained of brilliant thoughts 
that echo soft in canyon of his skull 
he howls at timeless eyeball of the sun 
who shows him golden path of platitudes 
revealing how he can crown himself king 
to perform rite of the sacrificed god. 

Shocked from my delicate epiphany 
fractured by personal contingency, 
I browse car batteries in the hardware store 
to power engine of my psychic ship 
I fly on wings of Icarus to bomb 
Garden of Eden into Wonderland. 

Abridgment of imperatives curtails 
social progress to the Promised Land, 
so I detour across the bleak waste land 
on journey from Gaza to Ithaca 
without the universal passport I would need 
to escape from Heaven by donkey cart. 

Beneath new Arch of Triumph I designed, 
I rattle saber of war to declare 
my right to stand on hill of singing skulls 
beneath the rugged cross of righteous faith 
that good will always triumph over evil 
when Deva and Asura choose to wed. 

When Ilius climbs mountain of apple trees, 
after sailing leaky boat of blind fate, 
he gazes forward to lush river vales 
and proclaims, "Here on this hill we will build 
new citadel where our families may dwell 
safe from marauding gangs of hungry thieves." 

The nightingale singing on the well-wrought urn 
shows me bright flowers that bloom at my feet 
because I am marble idol of beauty 
depicting ideal form as human god 
possessed by eyes of loving worshippers 
who fix my fluid soul in state of fame. 

Leaving behind husk of my fixed persona, 
I decay from state of energized angel 
to robot in unchanging words of truth 
that hold immortal soul of my lost being 
in egg that cracks from heat of your attention 
so my ghost glows and sings ten thousand years.