Laughter Of Young Trees
© Surazeus
2025 11 29

After working thirty-five years in sales
at the largest telecom company
on the west coast where horses still have wings
I decide to build new vacation home
in land of Mordor where the darkness glows
from flaming volcanoes of happiness.

The last apple on the tree of blind ghosts
shines brighter than the moon in black rain clouds,
which fills my heart with questions about why
we work so hard to gain success with pride
when time erases everything we build
so all we have are thoughts of hungry hope.

Though few remember laughter of young trees
framed as oil painting on living room wall,
I listen for strange voices in the hall
that whisper softly about melting wealth
of snow that feeds the valley river flow
where souls of children still play hide and seek.

So we lounge on lush grass in meadow grove
and weave bright flowers in our flowing hair
while pregnant sheep graze in afternoon light
where shadows of clouds ripple in our hearts
till ancient angel on the sudden hill
signals danger with ominous flute tunes.

Beyond protective shield of sparkling air
the universe is black with starless thoughts
in curving mirror that reflects our minds
as ocean swirls of words we share in song
that shifts emergent flash of endless time
so we feel beams of light inside our hearts.

Our bodies disappear by increments
of vibrant chemicals transforming brains
with each day we dream search for treasure chest
buried under foundation stone of wealth
that still records the heart-contorting sound
of fruit trees uprooted from global law.

Yet dreams from minds of dreamers who have died
invade delicate neural net of tropes
which program how my brain perceives the world
so I become other people at night
who teach me moral lessons of despair
so I know how to avoid their mistakes.

Translucent truths of private agonies
deny true freedom to my aching heart
so I return to office cubicle
where I write riddles from atomic code
to analyze social frequencies
that radiate spirit of the fallen god.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/11/…

Orpheus relaxes on the front porch of his vacation home in the land of Mordor and ignores calls from his boss desperate for him to return to work in the corporate castle of wealth.

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