Wednesday, June 11, 2025

Mother With Nine Hands

Mother With Nine Hands
© Surazeus
2025 06 11

Awake from nothingness of verity, 
I read the burning book. Nobody calls 
the secret name my mother with nine hands 
writes on water. Wings of birds expand keys 
designed to lock library of contempt 
where turtles hide our sorrows in fake words. 

Searching time for the never-open door 
of Now Here by the alabaster sea, 
I toss my skull in the well. The red egg 
concealing my immortal soul of genes 
laughs with aching heart. The key in the book 
flies on butterfly wings back to the moon. 

She turns around with endless rectitude 
to catch the writhing serpent of my heart 
with feather hand. I will not hesitate 
to catch sunlight exploding seeds of words. 
Nobody wears the mask of dreams I carve 
so I pause. My face cracks mirror of truth. 

With sudden shock of rancid puberty 
I remember why my name slips away. 
My sister Minerva calls the gold owl 
whose heart contains the book of dreams I write 
despite how Zero glows. As I walk home 
the faceless soldier shoots me in the heart. 

The key in my heart will unlock the egg 
where the wingless horse waits for me. Sunlight 
stabs pages of the book I never write 
which bleeds my new name Sirius on white sand. 
I wear the mask I stole from the blind god 
who laughs. I build countless churches from books. 

While waiting where the train crosses the road, 
I see face of Electra in blue glass 
so I cry. She teaches me how to read 
deprogrammed code of eyeless stars. Time curls 
flowers from corpse of my ancestral brain 
every noon. Son of Lucifer I am. 

Nobody tells me why the sky is blue 
so I float breathless on the sea of books 
which nurture wings of sorrow from my brain 
till Death returns. No one knocks on my door 
as if time twists back never fate replaced. 
I lie on book shelf where evil cats lurk. 

Pages of books flutter at silent screams 
from ghosts who dwell in houses of respect. 
I taste sweet nothingness of endless time 
preserved in apple pie of fortitude 
we share with wine. The key inside my brain 
unlocks tranquility of nothingness. 



1 comment:

  1. Orpheus repairs books in the library of laughing ghosts to ensure knowledge of Death is preserved in tales of social heroes with secret names.

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