Blast Of Hateful Bombs © Surazeus 2025 06 18 These eyes that connect my mind to the world, once plump as grapes newly swelling from vines, wither and wrinkle in bright heat of truth so events I observe on stage of fear contract into fractured shards of lost faith which I assemble in puzzles of hope. Through crackled swirl of smoke from blasting bombs I see young woman with long tangled hair cry out for beauty of the shattered world to pursue shadows with freedom of light, but Parnia falls from Heaven on torn wings as dying star that sizzles in my heart. Bearing cinders of the angel with care, I trudge along the empty asphalt road, hoping to preserve flame of her lost soul long enough to help her reincarnate in soulless robot with computer brain programmed to calculate safe way of fate. Kneeling before giant mushroom of hope, I place fragile flame of angelic soul in egg that gleams before the moon-eyed toad, then chant occultic spells of ardency to channel psychic beams of energy refracting light through prism of my heart. Strange scarlet glow inside the pulsing egg congeals eclectic rays of ancient stars to fictile body molded from moist clay that transforms into angel with twelve wings who rises tall from rancid muck of Earth to soar on rainbow wings above storm clouds. Yet when I blink to clear view of my eyes, I see conceptual face of my soul mate as normal woman sitting at my side who glances up from book of poems she reads and asks me if I want something to eat, so I squeeze her hand and smile with delight. Though woman I love as queen of our home dwells safely in firm shelter of my care, thousands of women in far distant lands lie dead or wounded in rubble of faith, or wander traumatized in cluttered streets, because cruel men blast their world views with bombs. My wife and her best friends with sparkling eyes stroll together in long wind-fluttered gowns on white-sand beach beside blue shimmering sea, sweet vision of our secret paradise that vanishes at blast of hateful bombs which pierce my eyes with shrapnel of despair.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
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Wednesday, June 18, 2025
Blast Of Hateful Bombs
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Orpheus finds Ophelia gravely wounded in rubble of their home after the tyrant sends planes to bomb their town into rebellious submission.
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