Flood Of Divine Truth

Flood Of Divine Truth
© Surazeus
2025 03 01

Sleepless in cluttered room of memories, 
I lose interest in conundrums of faith 
devised by weak abusive control-freaks 
to keep me dependent on their false creeds, 
so I throw their books up into the air 
where they turn into crows with bloody beaks. 

Unlocking paragraphs of bitter words 
that flutter on limbs of arrogant trees, 
I turn the corner to the crowded street 
where blind people wear masks of movie stars 
to scatter apple seeds on cracked sidewalks 
while bobbing their heads to the engine beat. 

When I speak works that I am told to say 
to entertain bored people of the world, 
I leave my self-mask broken on the stage 
so when people throw tomatoes at me 
I take them home to eat with omelets, 
then hide my sorrows on the bleeding page. 

Through diagnosis of the pristine curse 
I analyze omen carved on the door 
by trembling hand of the shy oracle 
who hurries away with hammer of flame 
through loud disquiet of ineptitude 
to sail Loch Ness in hide-bound coracle. 

That face I see in cracked mirror of time 
smiles back and calls me on the telephone, 
so I wear mask of Jesus Jupiter 
to play his character in world dreamtime 
erased by winners who write history books 
which prove I must be son of Lucifer. 

Born sixty years ago in Oregon, 
I journey with guitar on signless road 
without my mask from sea to shining sea 
because we humans, hungry to be loved, 
are actively dying as we transcend 
nothing except pretense that we are free. 

When I find your sorrows on the wet ground 
as fragments of verse on the tattered sheet, 
I record the sad dreams you threw away 
with wry obsession of the desert saint 
who thinks neglecting our bodily needs 
will transform their bodies the way gods pray. 

Exhaustible resource of empathy 
limits expression of my broken heart 
based on prerequisite puzzle of fate 
because love multiplies when freely expressed 
and flows from infinite well of faith 
till we drown in the flood of divine truth.