Bomb-Mangled Bodies © Surazeus 2025 10 06 Against collapsed wall of our old world view she leans exhausted spirit of desire with faint hope that new trees of fruit will sprout from bomb-mangled bodies of faceless children whose ghosts haunt cyberspace as photographs that highlight their bright smiles and starry eyes. Across the desert of unspoken words she walks toward unimagined nothingness with secret blueprints for bridges and homes that she intends to build from broken bones for people who have lost their history to crashing thunder of the holy book. Inside the mountain cave of lonely thoughts skull of our first mother sings lullabies two million years while empires rise and fall for starlight trapped in diamond of her brain so we dance round bonfire of vanities to celebrate our victory in world war. Beside the horse of wind on wings of hope she runs beyond horizon of blind fear to find our bodies floating in the pool, so she constructs new aviation school to teach us how to fly on angel wings though we are stuck in elevator cage. With children dancing on the river shore she washes blood and sorrow from her face to protect ancestral language of faith entangled in false alphabets of truth which heal our existential wounds with words that flood vast maze of myths with honest doubts. Along with phantoms of the broken mind she walks the lonely road of anywhere without concern for national politics fought hard between central authority and local managers of social games constrained by fear-wrought laws of liberty. Beneath grand arch of triumph people wait to speak in forum of calm argument despite demented tirade of contempt that mad King Midas screams at faceless ghosts, so they all turn their backs in silent faith till he falls exhausted from frantic fear. Outside my heart weird angels cry in rain so I construct stone walls of paradise to protect my wife and children from harm, safe haven for private theology from which I build empire of honest truth which requires no energy to maintain.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Orpheus works for Minerva at the think tank to devise new strategies that sustain democratic institutions against autocratic oligarchs who would exploit the people for their private gain.
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