Fight To Live Free © Surazeus 2025 08 13 Electrified by terror of the word that redefines stature of the absurd, I ask the old clown by the twisted tree why most humans never fight to live free, but he just laughs and gives me juice to drink, so I sit on statue of Phoebus to think. Astonished by reluctance of despair that modifies direction of the stair, I climb Death Mountain to Heaven at dawn then lie naked on the lush castle lawn while people wearing fancy clothes object to ontology of my globe map project. Disturbed by happiness children express by joining ranks of fame-obsessive press, I write reports on how wealthy gods cheat to conquer lush land with exploring fleet so refugees from war can build new homes in bleak wilderness where the jester roams. Surprised by earnest passion of the fool, I paint murals of heroes on the school so children can learn about national heroes who smile bravely in spite of their dark sorrows then choose which mask of god they wear to play eternal chess games on the golden way. Desired by faceless ghosts on ocean shores who call me secret name in global cores, the Sad Librarian gives me ancient book that maps world empire of the honest cook so I can understand his sincere heart by redrawing fortune of my star chart. Deprived by liberty of dream resource through years of discipline in the Mind Force, I resurrect maternal ghost of fate to rechannel aggressive force of hate in project to transform our fractured state to global empire of the caliphate. Concerned by sudden blast of fervid light that shrouds vast city maze in veil of fright, I shelter crone of wisdom with my pride against stammered tirade I try to hide till twitching arm of my ghost self decides to cage my demon spirit in sweet brides. Detached from cantos of the holy cage where angels prance obscenely on glass stage, I linger patiently on library stairs, unwilling to burn books on country fairs where farmers gather to celebrate life in tense peace after patriotic strife.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus finds bodies of Jesus and Sad Librarian in bombed house as it crumbles into wild waves of the rising sea.
ReplyDelete