Trample My Flowered Grave
© Surazeus
2026 07 31

Heart-aching sorrow of unwritten tales,
that depict the suffering people endure
as they are destroyed by indifferent Nature,
smears scarlet despair across empty skies
that wakes vain hope in broken hearts of souls
who chase glow of Heaven into their grave.

Thus I shall linger calmly on this shore,
relaxed among jagged rocks of desire,
face veiled by drifting mist of unconcern,
to wait with blithe assurance of blank death
for time to weave my body from mute light
so I will glow with joy in my dark grave.

If I join army of hope-righteous fools
to fight in vain against cruel tyranny,
I may find freedom to live as I will
while striding boldly along mountain streams
where no grim soldiers with weapons of death
could hurl my body in lost unmarked grave.

Strange stars that I have never seen before
flicker through tangled web of wind-tossed limbs
so I cannot now navigate by gleam
of canon-regulated creeds to follow
path of my faith to secret Promised Land
that preserves small space for my special grave.

Confined to hollow dale of silent winds
that ruffle strange emotions of my heart
across ice-black water of moss-framed pool,
I pluck blackberries from long tangled vines
to find sweet memories of my childhood days
when I played free around my undug grave.

Still awake long into dark evening gloom,
I hear red-breasted Robins in thick Rowans
sing delicate warbling tunes of regret
which sparks fierce passion in my aching heart
to haughtily endure the bitter storms
when men with guns trample my flowered grave.

Sweet summer days when we were free to roam
fairy-haunted vales among rugged hills
have vanished with huge cloudy palaces
that shimmer bright as guide for wanderers
when strict armies of greedy men invade
valley of skulls that sing in secret graves.

Concerned civilization will collapse
again because politicians violate
sacred Jovian law of hospitality
bound to ensure social stability,
I bring cart of apples to castle hall
where ghosts of my ancestors fill my grave.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus dances around my grave in the foothills of the Alps where I lived for ten thousand years building a great empire from hunger for paradise.

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