Crippled Hands Of Hope
© Surazeus
2026 05 02

I try to figure out the secret way
to have the world, that vanishes in mist
at flash of sunset over distant hills,
preserved in frame of fragile words I chew
to chronicle strange journey of my soul
since hour I first begin to hear birds speak.

Head tilted so I see beyond dark sky,
I listen to sunlight explain dream flight
through thought-vibration spiraling from fear
that makes my brain itch, stark with eagerness
to seek dark mountain cave where rain is born
with thirst to drink honey before I die.

Harsh pulse of love still urges I expand
tone of my heart enough to conceal gloom
through frequent repetition wind contrives
when I tear roots of sorrow from my heart
against sweet wretchedness of innocence
designed to trap my brain in cage of truth.

Yet deep in eastern sky of bleeding stars
I hear the faceless men of everywhere
jingle keys of duty when they explore
permission to endure another day,
though wealth they grasp with crippled hands of hope
still tumbles worthless in trash bins of fate.

Soon sizzling shadow sharing depth of light
winds threads of anguish, born from molecules
by shocking sounds of long-forgotten art,
around my fragile body by the sea
that shivers from excessive strike of wind
when I predict the future no one wins.

So much to wish for without memory
leaks from cracked skull of my atrophied clone
against triumphant applause police sell
to prove our weightless brains assert free will
which never counts commercial gain of fate,
yet translates desperation back to wealth.

Sorrow stuck in consular envelopes
requires admission of my primal birth
on secret island where no god is born,
who strains to bend electric bow of power,
though fanged with ambition to rule the world,
forever wandering in waste land of truth.

I am no arrow suspended in flight
toward secret destination no one maps,
yet I transform from happy naive fool
to weathered wizard wise in ways of weird
when I design Puzzle Technology
to resurrect my father through my son.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/05/…

Orpheus lingers on wild shore of the roaring sea where Oceanus teaches new generation of village children how to catch and roast fish on crackling fire.

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