Tuesday, June 4, 2024

Words From All The Dead

Words From All The Dead
© Surazeus
2024 06 04

Flat on his back under the star-gold sky, 
the faceless soul inside my aching heart 
just feels the Earth spin slowly in the void 
while breathing gravity of naked stone 
that pulls him down toward center of the globe 
till he disintegrates to formless words. 

People are killing people in cruel wars 
in dozens of countries around the Earth, 
shooting bullets and bombs from metal tubes 
to blast bodies of strangers into words 
that dissipate in silence of mute wind 
so roots of trees and flowers drink their blood. 

People have been killing people in wars 
more than ten thousand years of history 
so mortal men who build empires on skulls 
declare themselves gods with power of death 
bestowed on them by the sun in the sky 
that bards record in legends built of words. 

My heart aches, for that killing never ends, 
and never will for ten thousand years more, 
so today I want to feast with my friends 
while deconstructing victorious lore, 
then I will scatter words from all the dead 
so children will sprout from their dragon teeth. 

Rising up from heaviness of despair, 
the faceless soul inside my pounding heart 
walks solemnly in woods of ancient myths 
where ghost of every person killed in war 
waits for me to record their tale in verse, 
so I sing to dispel mercurial curse. 

Climbing ten thousand years on winding trail 
to Parnassian grove on Takoma Mountain, 
I measure this land, sea to shining sea, 
to draw each road, paved by bones of the dead, 
my fathers blazed to find the Promised Land, 
while I map life of every human soul. 

Assembling each conceptual data point 
in puzzle to compose our new world view, 
I arrange thoughts in lines of magic spells 
that weave complex tapestry of our tale 
to form oneiric matrix of the mind 
from atoms that pulse in words I express. 

Removing mask of the bard from my face, 
after casting protective shield of light 
through spirit enchantment of holy spells, 
I return from Heaven Realm of Ideas 
to wake as mortal lump of fragile flesh 
till I disintegrate to singing dust. 


1 comment:

  1. Orpheus lies on his back and sings elegy for all the people killed in every war in history.

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