Questions Worth Answering © Surazeus 2024 11 04 In the process of becoming Unself I hear brand new songs of the unborn stars so I sell fruit of laughter on the street to strangers who visit city of dust where hungry people who are almost gods throw their dreams into the mourning sea. Life asks me no questions worth answering because I twist the grammar of false facts with stubborn cleverness of the bored fool he thinks he is wiser than the fruit trees that give up trying to teach him how to choose which pathway to take in garden of lies. Hidden inside language of relationships, which traps emotions in jokes I should think, my faith in goodness of humanity cracks fragile egg of conventional rules so serpent of my heart rises on wings of resurrection purchased by false hope. Effect of sentimental silence sparks questions about shocking experience erosive with contempt of honest fear though I glimpse my future on the star map that signals new romantic tragedy I must endure while sitting by the lake. The more I plainly speak about the truth the more distortions of variable facts dismeasure architecture of despair with fluid nonchalance of unread thoughts so we misunderstand how we could connect our bodies and minds to generate life. With grim concern for princess of the lake, baptized by the demon in the black suit, I vow to protect all women from harm by saving myself from obsessive hope through artful performance as the white knight rusted into robot of factory work. Underground language of silence retrieves my disoriented Unself from wild dance to carry baskets of fruit on the road to the market stall where housekeepers browse dreams I harvested from tree of life to keep our fragile souls from shattering. Adjusting order of particulars that sprout from sunlight of arrogant pride, I dig my fingers in soil of the Earth, composed of bones from dinosaurs and gods, and families slaughtered in the genocide, then step into the booth to vote for truth.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus writes questions worth answering in book of riddles that sits unread in the library three thousand years before Ophelia reads it and cries as she gathers herbs by the river.
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