Literary Swamp Of Truth © Surazeus 2026 10 25 My body undulates with grace of change, emerging from green slime of solitude to dance with laughter on cracked skull of God mistaken as foundation stone of fate on which priests build religions of regret to claim vibe of salvation with false prayer. I catch the cannonball of psychic fear fired from political mouth of greed that reassembles houses of blind souls who gather diamonds from angelic graves so we can prove our right to eat old books dredged from the literary swamp of truth. Yet iron frog of wisdom crawls from screen of screaming television to adjust stark focus of our minds on eyeless clocks that tick in breasts of mermaids who recall halcyon days in dark Seattle streets where twisted jesters cheat naive bank clerks. My brother climbs fake pyramid of gold to ask the ghost of telephones why fate chooses some to be true face of the times while others labor in obscurity with humble commitment to noble truth which tricks their hearts with illusion of fame. Still undefeated by bland mockery that time hurls at glass faces of sad seers, I dare express defiant words to show wreck of my life, on highway of concern, reveals that spinning wheels fortune designs trick sirens to rescue my soul from books. Stuck in the literary swamp of truth, I pave ten thousand roads between small towns where fairies play banjos in grocery stores with noble purpose of the iceberg queen who fishes sorrow from polluted pools till we lean against brick walls without cause. If you have nothing better to do now, meet me at the book bazar in the park so we can tear the ghosts of bitter fools from fairy tales of arrogant dismay before blind senators can legislate how we may use our bodies to know love. When old man on the beach of lonely waves asks why do we live and why do we die, I take two cigarettes out of his hand and give him apple that I bought from Eve so we can know strange pleasure of the heart expanding scope of truth beyond the swamp.
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, October 25, 2026
Literary Swamp Of Truth
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Orpheus wades through the literary swamp of truth, dredging up books of prophets from the past, then hanging them on telephone lines of ambitious lust for fame.
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