War-Bruised Heart © Surazeus 2024 10 04 What temple I could build from all my ruins may shelter me from hostile arrogance of indifferent bullets in mouths of tyrants who decree they own the dreams people hide in this crowded world of war without end where only the most brutal crown themselves gods. Strange metaphors that serve the ruling class preserve the sledgehammer kings wield to build empires of the poor who work for their wage, yet cheer the tragic loser on the stage whose monologues analyze the zeitgeist with hidden fears that motivate their prayers. This three-eyed demon of the weeping tree, whom I conceive in ecstasy of gloom, decides to run in the Olympic race to outwit Hercules before the world, then sells his gold medal to King of Lies to found World Institute of Honest Spies. With angry chaos of the social scene blind sons of psychologists discuss art, then lurk together in the haunted night to find origin of the human race in secret cave down by the singing sea which mimics aloneness of the soul womb. Inspired by visions of the Holy Grail, Bambi paints portraits of mad movie stars as gods incarnate in her studio, then displays paintings at the gallery which burns down when lightning strikes, so she jumps off the balcony after killing Juliet. If I choose to worship with war-bruised heart gorgeous deity of America, that barbarous vixen of the wilderness, I may discover the last pot of gold over the rainbow from the land of Oz where I ask Dorothy to marry me. Because she owns the house of many windows on lecherous bank of the River Styx, Hera hires me to play jazz piano tunes at parties she hosts on Saturday nights, so I ask Richard Cory whom he loves, but he mumbles that the bell tolls for him. The Axolotl fish with feathered gills, that once transformed into enormous dragons, smiles brightly at me with its pink-moon face and eyes that know the stars of outer space, so I place huge skull of the dinosaur as god in temple I build from my ruins.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus sings eerie melody of the sea to heal our war-wounded hearts with empathy and love.
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