Riddles Of The Why
© Surazeus
2026 05 30

I like to float on wordless breath of thought
as I pretend my soul cannot be bought,
though children chasing shadows in the woods
leave broken dreams in doorless neighborhoods,
so I lie prone on couch of innocence
to plot new revolution of good sense.

I take my face off when the moon returns
to look for lost book among rain-wet ferns
since elevators drop me to my day
because I still refuse the right to pray
with fervent faith to no one in the sky
who never answers riddles of the why.

I want to make Sarmatia great again
but I cannot find my gold fountain pen
to write about how Queen Amage fought
invaders with the sword her wisdom wrought
that gleams invisible inside my heart
with love for Alba and her apple cart.

My heart resides in hills of Avalon
though I was born in vale of Oregon
so I hitchhike back east on signless road
that leads me to dark lake of the God Toad
who teaches me to play the Hermean lyre
that channels energy of soul desire.

When I row boat across the sloshing sea
to forest where the white crow with glass key
reveals strange secret of the golden flower
that blooms from sorrow in the doorless tower,
I legislate the sacred right to vote
for global savior on the floating boat.

We struggle to survive since hour of birth
through strategic fight to control the Earth
by constructing food-production machine
designed to favor all by Melusine
who guides my heart with riddles of the why
so I project my god face at blue sky.

My global revolution of good sense
inspires brave souls still stuck in reticence
to risk calm state of their healthy life style
by tricking Satan with the clever guile
concerning strict obedience to the law
though we try to evade the lethal jaw.

Desire to live beyond death of the soul
drives fierce fanatics to attain this goal
by grasping vainly at ethereal wind
that misdirects the greedy king who sinned
by smashing palace where First Ladies dwell
so I throw snake runes in the dreamless well.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus manages reconstruction of the East Wing of the White House from crystal bones of beautiful angels fallen from Heaven that does not exist.

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