My Consciousness Is God © Surazeus 2025 07 08 Though my childhood faith is the fairy tale that deludes billions of people with lies, I throw it in mud of the river shore where it sprouts tall into the Tree of Knowledge from which I eat the fruit of ancient wisdom which poisons fools but strengthens me with truth. Ice skating on vast mirror of the mind in final journey of the curious fool, he glides with grace of curiosity to catch the rainbow writhing in the sky with serpentine subtleness of surprise that discounts charges of false modesty. Death is the greatest adventure of all so I walk silent in the falling snow to count the footprints of demons and ghosts till I realize with unironic smirk they are mine I leave in labored largesse to marshal module of the metaverse. With long-expired passport of my bruised heart I wield rudimentary ability to guard gas station of the wilderness constrained by subtle strangeness of regret till I can prove my consciousness is God invented by the blind frog in the swamp. Disheveled angelically cute at dawn, she grins at me from tangled mane of hair despite forlorn state of her ocean mind while tossing petals on her empty grave to caress marble urn of wilted roses, fidgety with angst of global success. Though beautiful dust of my rotting corpse comprises fertile soil of farming fields, I testily remark on how great heroes cling to their pride with terrified despair till atheist scorpion of the lake returns to preach with passion about suicide. Domestic certitude of sewing machines considers pleasure of daily routines in harmony with cicadas at sunset revealing demons hiding in the well reborn as children who play hide and seek while quoting magic spells of the mind freak. Orphaned before the falling of the wall, she asks for payment in credit or cash based on poised preview of physical prayer by joining franchise of the holy clown at sudden exposition of her fortune when she eats gourmet food in the glass house.
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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Tuesday, July 8, 2025
My Consciousness Is God
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Orpheus tries to break out of the conceptual rut to transform his train into an airplane so he can find Heaven among the clouds.
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