City Bombed By Hate © Surazeus 2024 11 09 Across soul-fractured window of my eye white spider crawls from frenzied swirl of why to weave vast web of memories from my heart which children use as navigation chart to sail sea of emotions whipped by fear toward secret island of the gadgeteer. With each eccentric strum of the star chord contorting fierce aggression of the sword I twirl in martial dance of self-defense to shore up ruins with grim confidence that I can rebuild city bombed by hate when I defy court order of blind Fate. Each tower crumbling in blast of world war inspires my passion to record lost lore describing tales of nameless people killed whose worth cannot be valued by weregild assessed by bankers calculating wealth to control food and medicine through stealth. Now that our country has been bought and sold by greedy oligarchs snatching all gold, we sing sweet hymns that we will never yield while toiling all day in the sun-baked field, so they fly to the moon in rocket ships by crushing our dissent with legal whips. Though gangsters and their minions seize control over every government office role to pilfer taxes we pay in good faith, all evil tyrants haunted by the wraith fall down to Pandemonium in Hell and drown in justice of the Wishing Well. Though our civilization may collapse because we blunder trustfully in traps they set to trick us with glamorous lies, we gain salvation when courageous spies hack their cruel system of social control to break their monopoly on the whole. I build my house on rock of solid truth forged from facts verified by messiah sleuth to protect my precious family from harm by mapping network of the data farm which helps me analyze profit and loss bast on flight patterns of the albatross. Each ghost contrived from terror of the light guides me with glowing eyes in dark of night through maze of myths where idols of gods dream apocalypse hosted by divine team of angels with automatic machine guns who marry daughters of innocent nuns.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus paints visions of the city bombed by hate to remember how paradise looked like before the tyrant crowned himself dictator of life.
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