Underworld Of Happy Clowns

Underworld Of Happy Clowns
© Surazeus
2026 05 17

Stuck in dark underworld of happy clowns, 
Achilles buys soda from time machine 
that always asks him if he feels all right 
because blind ballerina never frowns 
though arrogant Ares is always mean 
about taxing us for using sunlight. 

Amid mounting evidence of regret, 
Achilles rides the happy dinosaur 
to temple of radiant uranium 
while he plays keyboard with fake alphabet 
so we remember long-forgotten lore 
by selling us land in Elysium. 

Stuck in happily-ever-after land, 
Achilles wears strange uniform of pride 
to prove negotiation skills are good 
when ships wreck on the wild Oregon strand 
through infinite laugh on the playground slide 
since foxes play chase in the misty wood. 

Latest fashion of potential success, 
Achilles ponders with fire of his mind, 
prevents sweet summer romance of despair 
to stop his thunderstorm of happiness 
from cracking stone walls Apollo designed 
with arguments for why God does not care. 

Stuck in refrigerator of brave faith, 
Achilles augurs no calamity 
through leagues of silent forest, canopied 
by steel beams welded into web of truth, 
to sell confusion based on vanity 
though he pretends to know the Nicene Creed. 

Voluminous brain vital for regrowth, 
Achilles claims Cleopatra conceals 
when bankers buy our foreclosed properties, 
shapes its own fate with inaudible oath 
based on cognizance of electric wheels 
that disavow empire atrocities. 

Stuck with bland ultimatum Death decrees, 
Achilles catches snowflakes with bruised hands 
to dance with glee at permanence of death, 
contrived by speedometer of glass bees 
so he can use his psychedelic glands 
to free Sibyl from cage of wordless breath. 

Vague outlines of clouds that imagine us, 
Achilles sketches in sand with cracked bones, 
express consistent energy of joy 
because we choose to ride Hadean bus 
from Oslo to Paris with rolling stones 
though my ghost still dwells in palace of Troy.