Fueled By Atomic Flares
© Surazeus
2025 03 08

When I hear the sharp chirping of the bird
I think it might be perched inside the tree,
but when I look at cloud of limbs and leaves
I see shadows and beams of striped sunlight,
for my eyes cannot discern the feathered fiend
that cheers my heart with territorial claims.

While I am sitting in the living room
before the television on the floor,
I wave my plastic sword with martial pride
and declare I want to sail my wood ship
as eager Viking to conquer the world
and bring strange treasures to my fjord-safe home.

Arranging puzzle pieces on the table
to match photo on cover of its box,
that shows the horse grazing in the lush meadow
beside the apple tree on the lake shore
framed by the snowy range of jagged peaks,
I create the world where I want to live.

To design world map from my memory
that accurately depicts the world that is,
I generalize points, lines, and polygons
to symbolize landscape of hills and lakes
with rivers winding in meadows of flowers,
then color each thing with their psychic tone.

Though every map I make depicting Earth
presents rich landscape of buildings and plants,
the human beings who move around its space
in quick routines of performative drama
cannot be fixed at any point in time
for we are flames that glow, then flicker out.

If I could fix each flaming soul of life,
fueled by atomic flares of beaming hope,
their ever-changing forms of psychic being
would momentarily freeze into masks
that I could hang on bare museum wall
in vast Temple of the Many-Faced God.

This photo of my temporary face,
posted as profile picture on my page,
affixed by static flash of timeless growth,
which drafts stereotype of me you prefer,
contains assertive pulse of energy
that flashes in every cell of my being.

As fake persona speaking with plain words,
I represent every human on Earth
who wears the face their ancestors designed
by choosing soulmate in romantic hope
as we evolve four hundred million years
to wingless angels searching for true love.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus takes off his mask and grins at all the ghosts in Hell, then puts it back and takes a selfie with Persephone as she sticks out her tongue.

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