Translate

Wednesday, May 13, 2026

Fields Of Singing Skulls

Fields Of Singing Skulls
© Surazeus
2026 05 13

I want to dance in fields of singing skulls 
who tell me about how the world could be 
so much better in how people may thrive 
with joyful passion of pleasure from pain 
even in the sorrow of freezing rain 
that makes the ugly Earth more beautiful. 

I stumble lost in fields of singing skulls 
who tell me about the glorious war 
when glamorous Satan with serpent eyes 
rebels against grim tyrant on gold throne 
yet strives to crown himself king of the world 
as architect of his own suffering. 

I exercise in fields of singing skulls 
to transcend limitations of this flesh 
so I can gaze in mirror of my mind 
and see the glorious god I could become 
if I strive hard to overcome weak faith 
though I may fall from heights of false success. 

I meditate in fields of singing skulls 
about the state of Limbo where I dwell 
in wretched circumstance of endless strife 
because I know with faith that I deserve 
to dwell in Paradise of peaceful grace 
forever inaccessible to me. 

I strut with pride in fields of singing skulls 
to climb great mountain of assertive will 
that purges weakness from my noble frame, 
proud my attempt to reach the height of fame 
proves I deserve rewards I cannot win 
that valorize my failure to achieve. 

I lounge with grace in fields of singing skulls 
to fetishize my longing as my goal 
since fruitful Heaven is beyond my reach 
therefore my journey to the Promised Land 
is all that matters to my wounded heart 
that beats torn wings against cage of despair. 

I drift forlorn in fields of singing skulls 
while I design grand world inside my head 
that matches splendor of my divine heart 
though efforts to attain this paradise 
are doomed to failure of my vague desire 
when I remake this world in my own image. 

I play guitar in fields of singing skulls 
to channel weird mercurial vibe of faith 
through haunting wail of untuned honesty 
in total acceptance of punishment 
inflicted on me by indifferent Nature 
who provides apples I can never reach. 



1 comment:

  1. Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and sings psalms that David wrote to refugees of war who gather at the river that flows by the throne of Godin.

    ReplyDelete