Fake Words On The Ground
© Surazeus
2026 05 23

Alert to shadow of death in tall trees,
Celestine scatters fake words on the ground
and pries thorns of happiness from her heart,
then browses dresses in the chic boutique
to purchase trend of upscale edginess
tailored for the refined lady of faith.

Exclusive demon lurking in tall grass
decides to customize costume she wears
with meticulous concern for cracked eyes,
so Celestine dons brown jacket at dawn
and sips coffee by the Venice canal
where empty gondolas float in gold mist.

Stopping in the middle of the glass bridge
that spans the silent river of despair,
Celestine wonders where she has come from
and where she will go before the sun blinks
with stunning insight of sorrow defied,
or if she should entertain hope of death.

With careful lines of elegant intent,
Celestine divides fragments of lost time
to measure wasted hours of earnest hope
framed by parables of social respect
in portraits that present uncanny scenes
where nobody seems to know what they want.

Staring at the clock in trunk of the oak,
Celestine plans routine of lettered play,
shattered by contempt for logical tricks,
to puzzle formulas of bitter love,
which proves her comfort zone is much too small
to protect her heart from blind parasites.

Now circumspect about her future path,
Celestine neglects to seek twisted code,
starved for new opportunities to tame
fierce appetite for solving data traps
through lurid analysis time presents
as theories that explain why all brains die.

If light hurts her eyes with bearable truth,
Celestine waits by boulder of lost names
for red raven to bring ribbon of ruth
with furtive urgency of social power,
designed to replicate our hearts of clay
which guardian angels fold into false masks.

Abated susurration of dead brains
amplifies individual spells of faith
that drip from wounded mouths of cautious clones
despite knowledge that wave frequencies change
relative to observer wearing mask
with telescope embedded in her brain.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus and Celestine browse the Royal Library of Belgium where they stare entranced at the Fall of the Rebel Angels that Pieter painted for her.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism