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Wednesday, April 22, 2026

Rubber Wheels Of Flight

Rubber Wheels Of Flight
© Surazeus
2026 04 22

Star angels seem to follow me around 
while I am driving on the busy road, 
adjusting speed of passionate desire 
to keep from hitting souls of other cars 
because we race endless circles of hope 
to catch the rainbow falling from the sky. 

My fingers dance on keyboard of weird spells 
to weave illusions that reflect the world 
of pulsing objects, formed of chemicals, 
that fool me into thinking I am God 
till Death erases my soul from the world, 
and all my atoms become other things. 

I watch the red light till it flashes green, 
then I assert my vain right to exist 
as metal shell on rubber wheels of flight, 
bright angel transformed to frail human being 
assigned strange name that honors long-dead god 
who drives with millions on vast maze of roads. 

Parking my car in garage of false fame, 
I walk with crowd of gods in human form 
to work all day in office of insight 
where I map multiverse of proxy worlds 
as half-aspects of one vast universe 
composing puzzle programmed from my dreams. 

Severe thought static, translating dream songs 
from tangled cantos of unique syntax 
trademarked by serpent of the well, expands 
scope of my conscious attention to facts 
encoded in moral tales of concern 
that invoke syndrome of unscheduled truth. 

Unlicensed lecture, expressed by shy god, 
shows me how to manage with legal jokes 
tense energy of our Daemonium 
who performs role with correspondent wit 
of Sign Giver who speaks with Inner Voice 
to guide my journey to the Promised Land. 

Excerpt of famished framework, glorified 
by solemn angel born from river stone, 
who appears to me as gleam of pure light, 
reveals entrapment trick they play on me 
till I escape high walls of paradise 
with one last apple full of fertile seeds. 

Through featured tropes of graphic interface 
I dare conceal strange program of my heart 
by which I forecast state of world affairs 
through clumsy assessment of bankrupt laws 
that helps me solve weird problem of my soul 
too beautiful for brokerage of death. 



1 comment:

  1. Orpheus washes his car in the driveway of his suburban home while songs of the Beatles play on the large silver radio on the bench by his root beer.

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