Old Telephone Of My Heart

Old Telephone Of My Heart
© Surazeus
2025 05 29

Old telephone of my heart never rings 
but I always seem to hear your true voice 
in cheerful chirp of invisible birds 
who bring me your letters on windy wings 
so, though your absence haunts me as your ghost, 
I feel not lonely in our empty home. 

Reverse psychology of cluttered words, 
which fail to analyze romantic choice, 
reformulates how I perceive new things 
which I record in dictionary tome 
before evening hour of the dinner roast 
when we discuss weak arrogance of kings. 

All day I wander shadows of our house 
to organize puzzle pieces of truth 
with hope to restore coherence of myth 
that underlies weird structure of belief 
on which we found ontology of faith 
based on ancestral memories of our brains. 

Face of Star Goddess on moon monolith, 
revealed by dream quest of messiah sleuth, 
mirrors fertile spirit of my true spouse 
who trusts me as we walk conceptual lanes 
on journey to embody cosmic wraith 
whose holy light assuages wounding grief. 

Old telephone of my heart flies away 
beyond enclosing walls of paradise 
as holy spirit of the mindless sun 
that guides my journey to the Promised Land 
where I found empire of the singing skull 
through which I prophesy what might occur. 

Running on bright beach with psychotic gun 
in vain attempt to evade paying the price 
of excess confidence in how I play, 
I wear sun-blazing mask of Jupiter 
to crash gates of Heaven on my white bull 
and build new world empire from Samarkand. 

All day I wander shadows of my mind 
to analyze how I perceive the world 
within framework of empirical thought 
which exposes artificial approach 
programmed by ancient Greek philosophy 
my brain employs to motivate my game. 

Transcending state as organic robot, 
I invent role as new world cosmic herald 
to expand world view that Plato designed 
where Idea Realm and Heaven share name 
that describes linguistic psychology, 
so I ride with Emily in her death coach.