God Turtle In The Pond
© Surazeus
2025 06 03

Startled by how fast light creates my brain,
I hide in the temple where the wolf rests
so children dancing in the field of skulls
become ghosts in the television screen
that grows so huge it swallows the whole world
and crawls across the stars on turtle wings.

People keep telling me about the war
where the powerful country with more faith
tries to conquer the weak country with guns,
so I become god turtle in the pond
whose shell Mercury uses to invent
the lyre poets play when they tell tall tales.

I wonder why, as I stand on the bridge
and watch cars with bright yellow headlights glide
below me on secret missions from God,
cars look like turtles with round metal shells
and diamond eyes that prophesy events
that never happen except in fairy tales.

How awkward this acknowledgement of pain
that I record in the county courthouse,
notarized by the blind prophet of love
when Tiresias places in my hand
psychic certificate that verifies
conceptual nonexistence of my soul.

Kneeling in small shack on the river shore
under round lamp that glows with gentle grace,
I hum in harmony with cricket song
as moon rays stream through limbs of cherry trees,
then, with horse-hair brush dipped in dragon blood,
I write short verse expressing lonely joy.

If the old man with long gray beard, and eyes
that saw his family shot by guns of hate,
plays violin by cement ghetto wall,
he might find salvation in songs of sorrow
that make people cry without knowing why
though their sons are the boys who killed his clan.

Instead of killing each other with hate
the people of nations who fight cruel wars
should invent new religion of one faith
then marry each other in hall of mirrors
so their children become one holy state,
but no one likes his idea that much.

Because I am god turtle in the pond,
awake with divine consciousness of water,
I fail to ignore all the suffering
that humans endure with their fragile bodies
animated by temporary soul
of moon rays stream through limbs of cherry trees.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/06/…

Orpheus walks in the Holy Land, preaching the new world religion of tribal intermarriage that merges all nations into one global family, till nationalists shoots him dead.

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