Courage Of The Rolling Stone © Surazeus 2024 08 27 Dodging bullets as I strut down the street, I rap to tragic beauty of the beat when people leap past the moon on their feet since we attempt to program our own fate though our naked bodies have become bait to trap the monster of greed twisted straight. Evading bombs that blast the hill of bone, I race with courage of the rolling stone, that Sisyphus transforms into the phone, to Temple of Dagon on Gaza plain, demolished by the blind warrior of pain who woos Shalash to marry him in vain. Dancing with demons in the bleak waste land, I rule over Eden with red right hand on pyramid of skulls where angels stand ready to obey One-Eyed God of Death who chants nightly news of the shibboleth about divine truth of the holy breath. Casting my vote in election for God, I kneel to pray and eat beer-battered cod, then join crusade of the Justice Squad that Minerva leads to catch criminals, who would cheat and defraud gullible fools, for equal rights of individuals. Leaping time portals of the multiverse, I search for planet of the Loving Nurse, whose gentle words heal us from the hate curse, with joyful passion of the broken heart which inspires me to compose new star chart for the lost girl pulling her apple cart. Knocking on door to Heaven with despair, I ask Queen of Beauty if she could share answers to prophecies of the cave bear, but she knits my soul into coil of yarn in futile attempt of true love to darn damaged matrix of the lost valley barn. Riding the white cow of Zeus by the sea, I ponder what principle makes us free because we bear in our pocket the key we use to unlock the home of our cage where I play my role on the family stage as predicted in the last torn-out page. Catching bullet of hate fired at my mind by the tyrant our arrogance designed, I search for temple where Truth lies enshrined, crucified body wrapped in bloody shroud that crumbles to dust under the Glow Cloud while I wander mute in the weeping crowd.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus documents every bullet fired in the revolution that was not televised.
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