Chronicle Weird Happenings © Surazeus 2025 12 25 If I cannot prevent my star-beam soul from falling into thick material pool so I get stuck animating this brain, then I shall dance naked on castle lawn till the mad king returns my angel wings so I can chronicle weird happenings. Quiet doubts slither with serpentine grace through unconscious mirror of earnestness though fear unsettles equilibrium between dual lives of wokeness and dream which filters theories with deceptive truths that leave me stranded on alternate paths. Conceptual happiness of noble pride through subconscious computers devils hide imply I sojourn with reflective faith in candle-lit cathedral built with math where I conceal strange version of the truth composed of summer dawns in ancient myth. No commonplace surroundings of blank skies allow my fractured brain to recognize amazing person with electric soul who plays with wonderment her special role against popular opinion of fate because we prefer to dwell on our boat. Contingent on what gods pretend to mean, our noble cause electrifies wild rain to urge complacent people with the sword who misperceive prophecies of the bard that foretell how our world empire will fall at slant of light in grand cathedral hall. Due to confident loneliness of hope when I drive too fast down the mountain slope I crash into wise tree of divine power, then crawl burning to consume the dream flower till I find myself stuck at blunt impasse between the locked door and the broken glass. Because everything that has ever been is only real because it has been seen, I hide sacred truths in brave heart of birds who scatter seeds of thought in humming words that bloom from graves of insignificance with transitory splendor of the fence. Soul veiled with shining aura of regret that I still love daughter of Baphomet, I sell private feelings in market stall derived from wisdom of the forest well so I inhabit all your different worlds with sadness that inspires me to live free.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Translate
Thursday, December 25, 2025
Chronicle Weird Happenings
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Orpheus brings basket of fruit to Baphomet, old woman in black lace dress, who beams with pleasure as he plays gothic melodies on the lyre of Mercury.
ReplyDelete