Howling Wind of Woe © Surazeus 2026 09 07 When sunset screams in silent ecstasy through frantic spirals of flashing rainbows that glitter eyes of the hypnotic toad whose song creates the multiverse of worlds, I breathe ghost of fertility and sing in harmony with howling wind of woe. I try to talk about my family vibe in pristine tale of pop psychology about my parental relationships that root my heart in doorless hall of time, but I hear cries of children in the rain entangling me with howling wind of woe. With threads of memories drawn from my brain as gleaming strings of tangled honesty, I sew new tapestry of ancient tales depicting Oedipus and Icarus as brave brothers watching the world cup game that channels rage with howling wind of woe. Through hawk eyes Prometheus steals for me I try to read silver calligraphy my ship writes on the seething waves of change, but time erases story of my heart when cold indifferent storm blows me back home where I dance weird with howling wind of woe. Eternal mask of our electric moon obscures intentions of my divine mind to resurrect the dead in words of songs though their bodies rot in mud of bomb blasts that wake blind angel in tomb of the church battered to shards by howling wind of woe. Investigating clues about the crime committed by the man with hands of gold, I find Idol of Helen with red hair buried under ruins of the White House where she blesses children killed by clean guns that imitate their howling wind of woe. When church bells scream in agony of prayer, casting curses of doom on thieves and liars, mute woman who knows why the caged bird sings stares at God Face in gleaming pool of fate that knows every secret she dares not hide, cast as torn books in howling wind of woe. Abandoned in the field of tangled wire where rainbow skeletons dance in red rain, white horse of wisdom teaches me new code for logging my soul in the world wide web for which I translate psychic formulas that measure words in howling wind of woe.
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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Monday, September 7, 2026
Howling Wind of Woe
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Orpheus designs machine that can translate secret messages hidden in the howling wind of woe that angel blind angels can hear on a normal day.
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