White Horse In The Stone
© Surazeus
2026 07 15

The way we dance about the broken tree
of knowledge, where three angels gamble souls
against electric solitude of fate,
reveals conceptual jaggedness of fear
by which we prove our noble manliness
with psychic levels of testosterone.

Trapped in grim ritual of the shopping spree
to buy masks and costumes for our new roles,
I scrub our television screens of hate
on holy mission from the Puppeteer
who questions origin of happiness
invented by the white horse in the stone.

The way we gather at the flash of dawn
in ring of stones, that angels call Stonehenge,
to sing electric hymn of shocking truth,
inspires the eyeless aliens from Zar
to teach us humans how to colonize
the waste land with water pipes of desire.

In every life I always play the pawn
trained by Minerva to unpeel the orange
as heartfelt gift to world messiah sleuth
who rules United States of Zathamar
through hidden network of innocent spies
who sing about Orpheus in the choir.

The way we weep with anguish of respect
for people who die unfairly each day,
because our souls dwell in no afterlife,
exposes fraud of preachers who declare
our wounded bodies will rise from the dead
because our brains pulse with ancestral ghosts.

Unnerved by riddles of the brain defect
which fool me into thinking I must pray
with plan to learn lessons from mental strife,
I emerge dripping from swamp of despair
to parade with jeweled crown on my head
on global stage where I play Lord of Hosts.

The way we type our thoughts in fractured verse
in vain attempt to describe what is real,
contrary to lies of religious creeds,
expands scope of my conscious sense of self
beyond strict bounds of righteous lethargy
based on canon law of the vampire god.

Inspired to wear bright mask of Lucifer,
designed by my mother with glass and steel,
I study potent vibrancy of seeds
that bloom from footsteps of the daring elf
whose kiss sparks my heart with dream energy
which helps me code the formula for fraud.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus and Jesus debate in the auditorium at the University of Zarathia over whether or not souls persist after the death of this fragile body of hope.

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