Chaos Of Electric Rain

Chaos Of Electric Rain
© Surazeus
2025 10 13

Though iron gate of sorrow never opens, 
illustrious clouds gleam in the boundless sky 
so I float on assertive gust of wind 
at shocking grumble of engines in cars 
which must precipitate the sudden gloom 
that blooms from anguish of the shattered heart. 

Each silver mackerel in the restless river 
breathes vanished chaos of electric rain 
that cracks enormous fissure in my eye 
so I see tumbling change of history 
expressed in bodies pulsing with desire 
who play god in aggressive games of power. 

No half-blind angel regulating thoughts 
through morbid quest for life experiences 
remembers tranquil shock of nothingness 
while floating on cerulean ocean tide 
with frantic anguish of the stringless kite 
which dances wildly on demonic laughter. 

Through pre-historic times of endless hunts 
my brain explores vast spinning globe of saints 
down endless paths in villages of wheat 
where ageless spirit trapped by mask of god 
invents new names for children of the sea 
who give each other dreams they steal from time. 

Across untangled bridge of angel bones 
Orpheus strolls with Muse of apple trees 
to share their secret kiss of honesty 
with lightning flash of soul anatomy 
preserved in hollow skulls of absent gods 
who would inhabit crackling radios. 

Regret cannot reveal the magic portrait 
which frames conceptual person of my brain 
so I pause in grand gallery of truth 
to scrutinize each sacred work of art 
when I converse with spirits of the dead 
who never answer ringing telephones. 

Abrupt regression of the slippery truth 
defines resentment of unspoken shame 
the homeless feel when walking signless roads 
with anger-sharpened dagger of concern 
to hide in shifting shadows built by signs 
twisted by endurance through chastity. 

Though clouds of social arrogance collapse 
through inevitable grandeur of respect, 
we feed each other tales of fruitful faith 
to cleanse abusive wrath of loneliness 
so we live happily in tombs of fate 
where clocks in tree trunks record how we die.