Profits From Holiday Sales © Surazeus 2024 11 03 Softly thumps melody of river stones in harmony with sorrows of my heart which I deny to anyone who pries by imitating bees till clouds explode with tears of children maimed by falling bombs whose suffering dares not haunt the concert hall. Hidden behind the paper mask of pride, which the orphaned child paints with their tears, pulse aching hopes for shadows of false love that float as mist in meadows where sad crows analyze profits from holiday sales comparing sales of guns to magic wands. Wretched beauty purchased with loyalty distorts proportions of the traitless face pure as moon mirror hanging on the door which opens to the world between all worlds where nameless gods swim in echoless pools while Narcissus serves them cocktails and cheese. Laughter trapped in pageless book of dream codes radiates atomic vibes of psychic angst too honest for heart of the hammer-god who builds skyscrapers from rage-melted swords where kings disguised as corporate presidents conceal feudal slavery with capitalism. Distinctive feature, marking as unique darkness visible with arrogant respect, remains undetected by clever spies who sell classified secrets of star bombs to tyrants ruling oligarchic states eager to keep people under control. No declarations of disputed facts could fracture criterion of global fate except through our peculiar attributes too twisted into logical concepts to maintain balance of progressive drive which proves justice and liberty for all. Cracked foundation of our world nation-state exposes critical flaws in design approved to ensure equal rights for all, regardless of private identity which divides us into opposing camps till we break down walls to build one whole church. Reversed epiphany of awed insight inspires my cautious heart with bold purpose to legislate as universal law right of each person to control their body so we live as we will, if we harm none, in global party of the faceless god.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus arranges profits from holiday sales in the spreadsheet, alone in his cubicle long after midnight to meet the report deadline to avoid getting fired to keep health insurance for his sick wife.
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