Ocean Of Lost Words © Surazeus 2026 08 02 When I emerge from shadow of my house, which I build in your ocean of lost words, I drink ever-flowing rivers of dreams that swirl from fountains of our pulsing brains, so we become one spirit of the Earth when you bury me in my turtle shell. Annoyed by law of fluid abstinence, I walk along gold silence of the beach, because my dreaming brain has been designed by tongue of the toad that heals wounded hearts with madness of wisdom no one can buy, therefore we sit on sand of nothingness. Another war between gangs of mind thieves shakes frail foundation of our global state, so we ride buses to new factories where we process hopes into fantasies that people buy in plastic packages to fund their timeshares to the Afterlife. Though I emerge from trench of global war with crown of shrapnel gleaming on my head, the people of the world cheer my success when idol of Jesus with diamond eyes proclaims me vicar of his soul on Earth, so I bless you and give you wine to drink. I want to stand with reverence of faith on every bridge that spans river of time in every city sprawling from the cave where the fisherman contemplates our fate so I can understand how people feel when they walk toward the golden cloud of hope. Love flows in current of the river flash where people gather flowers of false faith to lay on graves behind the ruined church where fathers and mothers dream of the moon since Heaven shines as palace of fake words that crumbles into paychecks we receive. I dig dirt from heart of the spinning world and mold its seething passion in machines that calculate how much profit we earn in frantic game to accumulate wealth that helps our children take over the world to found dynastic gang of power thieves. Time laughs at my attempts to found new church based on one universal human law that every person breathing air of hope has right to live free from oppressive greed so we hold hands and sing of global peace while bombs deconstruct our sacred world view.
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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Sunday, August 2, 2026
Ocean Of Lost Words
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Orpheus finds Hesiod sitting on the beach so they talk about why the big country is invading the small country to control the ocean port city of wealth.
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