What You Leave Undone © Surazeus 2026 07 21 You fix the hinges on the broken door to frame strange beauty of quiet sunlight through fraught ideology based on facts that measures consequence of mindless cause when you remember what you leave undone with deliberate grace of the figured sun. You leave your sorrows in the puzzle box on stretch of open country devils map with solid ambience of unclean thoughts constrained by brain-programming buzz of words defined by apparition of your soul that flaps as tattered star-flag on the pole. You offer whiskey to the zombie king who feeds three-headed dog of hungry hope fantastic dreams you discard in hot sand because you swagger on the desert road toward ghost town under burnished sky of dread that groans with bones of demons in your head. You stroll with ardent vigor of blind gods to play brave guardian angel of your Hell where blandished apparitions steal your cake with calm intensity of humble thieves who drive west to the last town of your heart where swift coyotes steal your fateful chart. You drive through dust storm of your vacant clock past humming fences of barbed-wire to steal torn cloak of death with tragic sense of greed by selling hope of paradise to fools who cling with faith of homeless refugees to Afterlife with holy apple trees. You kneel in pain by highway of despair as dreamless ghost to scrawl in swirling sand tale of your victimhood through suffering abuse from people who cannot see you as noble person worthy of respect, tricked to believe your soul will resurrect. You ask for how the Cosmic Architect, who drives your rusty truck of gratitude on long indifferent highway of the dead, could build grand temple from cracked skulls of gods to celebrate your life and death on Earth with solemn elegies of bitter mirth. You stare at mask of your immortal face reflected in mirror of Our World Mind, but you are stranger to your inner self who nurses wounds of guilt from your cruel deeds because you violate sacred rule of Zeus to welcome immigrants into your home.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
Translate
Tuesday, July 21, 2026
What You Leave Undone
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Orpheus polishes mirror of Our World Mind with soft cloth dipped in olive oil from the tree of Athena that still grows inside the abandoned Parthenon.
ReplyDelete