Room Of Somethingness
© Surazeus
2025 03 20

In dreamless nothing of the star-black mind
I search for meaning to invent with words
which I breathe from gush of the water stream
that shouts loud at my face with mocking faith
as I lean close to catch the darting fish
so I can roast it on the crackling flame.

Still dreamless in the realm of mystery,
I gather fearful flowers from lush fields
to untangle regret from roots of herbs
that cannot clear confusion of the fog
with flash of sunlight through its veil of hope
that pierces my heart with anguish of faith.

Twisting spines of books from aggressive trees,
while I somersault bitter sea of joy,
I build expanding house with countless rooms
with brooding horror of the stinging rain
that mocks my attempt to shelter my heart
from haunted normalcy of restless wind.

Stuck in perpetual wakefulness of faith,
delicate eyes still dissolving to rain,
I move through unconfirmed shadows of time
to hide in cavern of fake innocence
in nowhere rampant with sorrow denied
by urgent quietude of still-locked doors.

To each adjacent room of somethingness,
half-stuck inside books of weird fairy tales
disgusting as slime of the seaside harbor,
I progress backward through stark formulas
designed to calculate abundant fear
collapsing in the future we abhor.

Tomorrow never comes from fog of war
framed by basement window of the stained heart
that runs with feral attitude of pride
to catch moonbeams encased in angel wings
offensive to the man who claims as his
everything that exists on this mud world.

I hear no clocks chime hour of broken hearts
at sudden intervals of falling pears
despite the radio signal no one hears
crackling in tangled wires of my glass brain
with zealous passion for social ideals
consistent with how castle walls reverse.

For every door I knock on with respect
ten doors are locked against kind prejudice
that disabuses how horizons shape
fraught ontology of cathedral hymns
which children assemble from puzzle shards
so I can claim I know who I should be.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus tries to fix the clocks of broken hearts with wires woven from shadows stuck in the room of somethingness.

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