Born As Adventist © Surazeus 2026 05 27 Awake in endless desert forged from bones, designed by swirls of agony and joy in storm of sensation that blooms as trees from urgency of faith in what is real, I feel my body transform from weird words that mold mirror mask over my flesh face. Struck by epiphany of curling roots that provide general guidelines in dream code for submission of desire to world peace, my mind expands from adventurous seed to borrow wings of Icarus with pride so I can fly above my memory maze. Beneath wild sea of calm anxiety, where angels invent mental telephones from writhing tendrils of demonic clowns, my family swims in swirls of holy hymns through false argument of glib poverty, constrained by social rules of hungry hope. Lush meadow on credible sunlit moors lures my enchanted heart to settle down in vain attempt at prayer with humble trees to buy salvation from the fractured stone who still repeats forged riddle of despair at taste of honey oozing from my tongue. Born as Adventist in small prairie house, composed of pine logs from dark Raven Wood, I stare at glowing clouds of fearful faith to watch for Phoebus Christ on beating wings who may descend from palace in the sky to cast all evil tyrants in hot hell. Witness to turbulent eddies of change, which surge from energetic hearts of souls ambitious to assert bold right to dwell by azure pond where honest demons lurk with divine grace in morbid field of thoughts, I lounge on porch of my cabin and laugh. Not deep enough to shield my wounded heart, too eager to escape dutiful play, our secret pond conceals my naked mind from privileged arrogance of stolen wealth so I build houses on the roadless plain for wanderers to dwell in tense accord. Death carries me across the codeless plain and lays my fragile soul on dire lake shore where brave blue heron shields my humble hearth with tender wings of innocent respect, so I compose in secret book of lies my fake memoir with blood of gods as ink.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
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Wednesday, May 27, 2026
Born As Adventist
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Orpheus teaches me how to play lyre of Mercury and chant hymns of wisdom that teach lost souls how to invent some kind of meaning for their life to create rather than destroy.
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