Roaring Waves Of Change
© Surazeus
2025 03 04

Yellow egg splats on linoleum floor
to illustrate process of life and death
with voiceless agony of daily hope
when roaring waves of change wash over us
with frothing teeth of hunger for the free
as we swim to the bottom of the sea.

Thin black wolves lurk in old Victorian house,
trotting up and down solid oakwood stairs,
eyes gleaming gold as ancient burned-out stars,
so we hang portraits of ghosts on blank walls
and give our melancholy children names
our ancestors wore to play psychic games.

Stacking classic books of weird poetry
on lace-covered table with glass of wine,
cloth-covered notebook, and brass fountain pen,
I photograph conceptual dramaty,
then post it on my social media sites
with snarky comment about pious kites.

Late winter sunlight glares on window panes
while Ellen turns soil in her garden plot,
preparing to plant carrots, melons, corn,
and tomatoes in land her father bought,
then wipes her brow and gazes at the sky
as she wonders what happens when we die.

Ghosts of five children she birthed and raised up
swarm around her soul in the empty house,
and voices of their secret thoughts still echo
in shadows behind each half-open door,
so she closes her eyes to morning gleam
and sips coffee as she savors their dream.

I cannot go back in process of time
to rearrange furniture of our hearts
so we could better adjust cordial clocks
to interact through accurate respect
with cold honor toward cunning deathly ploys
which tends to erase our sorrows and joys.

Painting landscapes with her house among trees
surrounded by shadows of faceless beasts
that emanate from hearts of human beings,
Ellen searches for ways to perceive truth
beyond self-blinding surfaces of things,
and sighs at sudden flutter of finch wings.

Hiding her useless memories in books,
Ellen encodes strong opinions about life
in clever fairy tales of lonely girls
who seek truth in forests of nameless ghosts
which children in libraries like to read,
as her rotting corpse nurtures apple seed.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus visits the grave of his grandmother Ellen, and wipes away leaves that buried the headstone in sorrow of passing time.

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