Silence Of Fake Words
© Surazeus
2026 02 23

Down here in dirty cavern of my heart,
I slouch with passive passion for this life,
half-awake beneath surface of grim fear,
wondering if could crawl back up from Hell
so I can jump off high cliff of despair
and float on wings of Icarus nowhere.

Unseen in shadow of the faceless god
who stands as grand idol above the crowd,
I mumble spells that no one ever hears
through troubling hum of my interior self
that vanishes in silence of fake words
when you listen close to understand fear.

Shocked at moment of terrible insight
by self-exploration of wordless despair,
I wear mask of self-awareness to hide
demonic storm of hate that writhes with lust
in pulsing passion of my hungry heart
when I fail to analyze psychic noise.

Startled by clanging bells of dire alarms
that rattle fire-station walls with woke jokes,
I scream at portraits of ghosts on the wall
who threaten to devour my apple heart,
so I lie on my back on marble floor
to let gallery viewers trample me.

Crawling drunk on country dirt-road of faith,
I tremble paralyzed by divine light
when God approaches in the starless night
as glaring headlights of the semitruck
that crushes my perspective into dust
though I photograph piston-engine guts.

Head bowed in contemplation of regret
from vain attempt to untwist moral laws
with blunt authority of bitter gods,
I empower embrace of naked Death
in frantic avoidance of mental angst
that beams image of my soul in the mirror.

Haughty with genius of performance tricks,
I fall in love with image of my Self
which I invent from psychotic remains
of famous word wizards who sang love spells
which lures attention from inner turmoil
concealed by surface mask of conscious breath.

Blind shadow of all my ancestors lurks
in hollow shimmer of my doorless room
so I displace my god-bright consciousness
in flashing television screen of dreams
that urges me to leap in toxic pool
with gritty influx of irreverent faith.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/02/…

Orpheus carries the drunk poet along the streets of New Orleans till he turns into a raven and flies into the swamp.

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