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.
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 13, 2026
Fields Of Singing Skulls
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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.
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