Yet Still I Row My Boat © Surazeus 2026 10 04 Glass bridge of laughter questions Game of If where nameless people wander distant shores with plans to steal new souls from grocery stores who vanish in strict mirror of the cliff, yet still I row my boat past paradise because important things should have no price. Electric lightbulb of the smiling sun sends garbage trucks to take lost memories discarded by housewives with broken keys who seek salvation of the holy gun, yet still I row my boat past Eden tress where angels give math books to chimpanzees. Life is the angel wearing mirror mask to work for advertising companies with clients selling psychic clarities to robots who refuse to do the task, yet still I row my boat past libraries where demons work for social charities. Brave butterflies of pencils with nine brains flock merrily around sly Mercury who teaches jesters art of jollity who prance at midnight in honey-gold rains, yet still I row my boat past empty church where Cinderella continues vain search. Trapped by strict duties of proud happiness, where horses of the king eat grass of gold, my father shows me how to dream-unfold airplane wings above Sea of Nothingness, yet still I row my boat past apple groves where wives of senators slave at hot stoves. Despite sincerity of obvious love that cripples crow of Heaven with false faith, I formulate how God is stellar wraith that conjures worlds with psychometric shove, yet still I row my boat past matrix schools to learn how primates invent farming tools. Since fatal geographies of state power provide framework for tyrants to play god, brave blacksmiths disarticulate the fraud with guidance from Rapunzel in her tower, yet still I row my boat past bombed-out homes to watch gods wrestle in glass thunder domes. Conceptual language of the creditor reframes the meaning of life we employ to reconstruct the sacred halls of Troy based on project designed by Lucifer, yet still I row my boat past gates of Hell to gather dream runes from the serpent well.
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 4, 2026
Yet Still I Row My Boat
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Orpheus rows his boat past the White House where King Midas screams in rage that prophet of the woke is invading his house that sinks into the waters of the sea.
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