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Friday, February 28, 2025

Fairy Tales Of Why

Fairy Tales Of Why
© Surazeus
2025 02 28

Conceptual difference between falling rain 
and stone walls human hands erect with fear 
divides my mind with ocular respect, 
so I rejoice in spinning of the Earth 
that tangles my heart in telephone lines 
till I grow fraught wings from my wounded heart. 

If we consider the best way to start 
chanting magic spells the blind crow defines, 
we might discover that each soul is worth 
more than our visual looks or intellect, 
as if we cannot feel the ghost glow near 
enough to vibrate in tune with our pain. 

Stark vision billowing from exhaust pipes 
of cars rumbling down snow-encrusted roads 
glows bright with faces of long-dead monarchs 
who ruled their empires with insight and rage 
in cruel relentless chess game with blind death 
who always wins every humanized game. 

Every year I invent myself new name 
so I can speak through my old mask with breath 
that shadows spirit of the fox on stage 
who runs with elegant grace in state parks, 
then guides lost pilgrims to pond of wise toads 
where immortal grandson of Hamlet types. 

Yet smiling nurse in clinic by the lake 
tenderly cares for children without souls 
who ask with innocent voice of despair 
if they will be able to live long and well 
so she howls with sorrow in stormy wind 
at unfair randomness of mindless fate. 

When we explore our wild deserted state, 
while wearing dresses dead grandmothers send, 
I smile that brittlebush blossoms in hell, 
which does not prove that Jesus might care 
to gather brickleberries in clay bowls 
with noble intention to bake us cake. 

Tall ocotillo that knows why I cry 
comforts me with song of the cactus wren 
who refuses to accept lame excuse 
I offer that I cannot love myself 
because my mother harshly judged my lack 
of common sense with bitter words of love. 

I turn my face up to Heaven above 
where I see nothing but clouds in huge stack 
of contemptuous disdain for my bookshelf 
that bears books about both Jesus and Zeus, 
so I replace them all with poems about Zen 
which should explicate Fairy Tales of Why. 


1 comment:

  1. Orpheus finds Ophelia crying by the ocotillo, so he hugs her and they stroll together among the blooming brittlebush by the river.

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