Tangled Web Of Tales

Tangled Web Of Tales
© Surazeus
2025 07 09

Striated currents of strange memories 
stamp my face with token of swaddled luck 
consistent with self-knowledge of mute rain 
based on analysis of fractured facts 
collected by angelic satellites 
to map asynoptic patterns in charts. 

Retributive disguise my ghost contrives 
teaches me how to prepare for the hour 
when I will stand before tribune with pride 
to challenge angels wielding swords of flame 
with cultured grace of pretentious contempt 
based on indifference of nature I code. 

Old-fashioned beauty hidden in her heart 
exposes glorious passion for the truth 
which still inspires lethargic clowns to fight 
for equal opportunities to work 
after we testify in court of power 
about adventures to the Promised Land. 

Eager to channel psychic energy 
through tangled roots of simulated words 
designed to imitate the albatross 
as symbol that must designate free will, 
I lift weight of my ardent soul to prove 
spiritual breath fuels engine of the brain. 

Somewhere in sunburnt pastures of lost hope 
my heart explores vicinity of fear 
to empty hollow arrogance of faith 
from forgotten traumatic memories 
contained by powerlines on ice-cracked poles 
that weave our hearts in tangled web of tales. 

Ophelia sweeps dry leaves in piles of souls 
who whisper sorrows with windchimes of whimsy 
which urges me to wake from lethargy 
and speak of crimes that oligarchs commit 
which contains their destructive force of hate 
within bright apparition of some god. 

Unnoticed by strangers in our strange land, 
I build new city of sadness and laughter 
to show our doubts are insignificant 
compared by formulas for mental states 
invented by the woman with twelve wings 
who bids me record for posterity. 

Since I am able to write from the grave 
about objective things with words I love, 
I hold my sweetheart in protective arms, 
then gaze with curiosity of trust 
in mirror eyes black as the midnight moon 
to see real beauty of her inner soul.