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Thursday, April 9, 2026

Machines Of Potent Words

Machines Of Potent Words
© Surazeus
2026 04 09

Grim gargoyle shape of my expanding brain 
dodges succulent perfection of thirst 
through imperceptible questions he screams 
to imitate machines of potent words 
so we feel safe beside the lake of dreams 
where fish explain consecutive regrets. 

Since truth and beauty that our hearts desire 
are both illusions which our brains design, 
truth the real world we try to understand 
and beauty the dream world we would create, 
we walk together in stark field of flowers, 
inventing words to match what we perceive. 

Tenebrous beauty of the world we see 
sucks light of rainbows in vortex of gray 
so we mix flour and milk in bowl of hope 
to bake fresh bread that keeps our secret fears 
concealed in swelling loaf of urgent faith 
while nursing darkness of the spinless world. 

Rate of convection, when heat radiates, 
defends velocity of transient soul 
defined by wind chill factor of sweet words 
disguising curse of estimated flow 
when moving air disrupts my atmosphere 
though I breathe pure celestial dreams of love. 

We bundle fractured hearts with eglantine 
to stride with brave anxiety toward light 
illuminating maskless souls we mold 
from ringing bells that lure our seamless dance 
against continuous time through false doors 
to high-walled courtyard of lost paradise. 

Adjusting patient line of wounded souls 
through secret code of frantic telephones, 
we neither confirm nor deny concern 
for endless meditation angels play 
based on exoneration we must purchase 
to free our bodies from theology. 

Weird book in which I hide discarded tales 
floats faintly slow above my throbbing head 
to beam bewildered sentences of fate 
that stretch our bodies beyond bounds of hate 
so we glance casually at screaming ghost 
who offers faces of state suffering. 

Dazzled by hills of honest fortitude, 
I colonize my heart with twisted lust 
when I extract material wealth of words 
from hills that share lost treasures forged by light 
so we may dwell in tense peace of despair 
without care for indifference of Nature. 



1 comment:

  1. Orpheus translates every poem every written in history of humanity to the language of trees who sing our dreams billions of years after humans go extinct.

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