Mother With Nine Hands
Mother With Nine Hands
© Surazeus
2025 06 11
Awake from nothingness of verity,
I read the burning book. Nobody calls
the secret name my mother with nine hands
writes on water. Wings of birds expand keys
designed to lock library of contempt
where turtles hide our sorrows in fake words.
Searching time for the never-open door
of Now Here by the alabaster sea,
I toss my skull in the well. The red egg
concealing my immortal soul of genes
laughs with aching heart. The key in the book
flies on butterfly wings back to the moon.
She turns around with endless rectitude
to catch the writhing serpent of my heart
with feather hand. I will not hesitate
to catch sunlight exploding seeds of words.
Nobody wears the mask of dreams I carve
so I pause. My face cracks mirror of truth.
With sudden shock of rancid puberty
I remember why my name slips away.
My sister Minerva calls the gold owl
whose heart contains the book of dreams I write
despite how Zero glows. As I walk home
the faceless soldier shoots me in the heart.
The key in my heart will unlock the egg
where the wingless horse waits for me. Sunlight
stabs pages of the book I never write
which bleeds my new name Sirius on white sand.
I wear the mask I stole from the blind god
who laughs. I build countless churches from books.
While waiting where the train crosses the road,
I see face of Electra in blue glass
so I cry. She teaches me how to read
deprogrammed code of eyeless stars. Time curls
flowers from corpse of my ancestral brain
every noon. Son of Lucifer I am.
Nobody tells me why the sky is blue
so I float breathless on the sea of books
which nurture wings of sorrow from my brain
till Death returns. No one knocks on my door
as if time twists back never fate replaced.
I lie on book shelf where evil cats lurk.
Pages of books flutter at silent screams
from ghosts who dwell in houses of respect.
I taste sweet nothingness of endless time
preserved in apple pie of fortitude
we share with wine. The key inside my brain
unlocks tranquility of nothingness.
surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/06/…
Orpheus repairs books in the library of laughing ghosts to ensure knowledge of Death is preserved in tales of social heroes with secret names.
#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism