Where I Will Live Now
© Surazeus
2025 12 23

We have so many awkward ways to sing
about strange beauty of the broken heart,
for every lonely wanderer in the world
plays their own prophet till the end of time
by setting signs along the crooked road
to show which way nobody else should go.

Narrow wooden stairs frosted with stale dust
lure me to spacious room of cluttered shelves
with boxes of tattered novels and clothes
worn by college students decades before
who forgot to write their names on the wall,
so I think this is where I will live now.

Time to consider how cookies supply
nutritious hopes for passing with good grades
classes about creating homes with words
that shelter souls of nameless wanderers
who apply for jobs as plumbers or cooks
that serve the angelic community.

Maps conceal more about reality
than they reveal with features that present
changing landscape of my fantastic world
where gods bring justice to humanity
who always fights wars to maintain control
over who gets to breed children and eat.

Whatever origin of their lonely quest,
their father was enforcer for the mob,
or their mother spent years in her dream world
drugged and shocked inside mental hospitals,
they attend classes with calm attitude
to play their role in capitalist games.

Since I prefer apple cinnamon juice
that sparkles in the glass jar of my heart,
to cheap beer in bent aluminum cans,
I shall relax on front porch of the house
beside the busy road where joggers race
courageously against decay of death.

Since I wake up late from drinking all night,
I prompt artificial intelligence
to explain causes of the last world war
through social pressures that drive hemmed-in states
to fight till three huge empires rule them all,
then turn in my paper just before noon.

If Plato is right, that material shapes
emanate from forms in Realm of Ideas,
because all things I perceive are no more
than illusions my fearful brain invents,
then I will declare myself King of Earth
whether you acknowledge my rule or not.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus wanders the university campus, trying to remember where his classroom is, if he finished the assignment, and what the class is even about, then plays guitar under the ancient Tree of Life.

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