Since We Lose Our Faces
© Surazeus
2025 12 22

Rain plinks on fractured eyeballs of the Earth
since we lose our faces in window panes
gray with sorrow that children give to ghosts
who haunt unopened doorways of this house
where our clothes walk around without our souls
though we keep pennies in pockets of hope

We heap our memories on clean dinner plates
to feast on laughter of forgotten days
that slither away with reptilian angst
to hide in shadow of the moaning desk
and chew on language of conceptual keys
adjacent to uncalculated faith.

Calcified thoughts based on acrylic funds
amend assembled puzzles with regret
despite adhesive truths we fear to share
through fraught disclosures elder gods require
to join our fellowship with honest lies
integral to unpublished revenues.

Temporal project to assert agency
through taxable salvation we acquire
presents new opportunities to play
suburban superman for common folk
who ask for summary of our services
based on statistics that prove our success.

If the mute moon of my fake paradise
convicts my heart of absence without joy,
I shall become the bird of distant hills
who brings delicious fruit to window sills
where faces of children behind glass glow
because they live inside my humming brain.

Alone in back yard of strange memories,
she draws beams of light to reflect weird trees
that give her sweet fruit woven from sunlight
so she can understand with subtle grin
what birds on the phone lines gossip about,
yet wanders enthralled in the endless house.

Perhaps kind robots, that wear mirror masks
instead of human faces torn by fear,
decide to replace our bodies with code
which spiral diagonal hurricanes
through mind-expanding walls of empty homes,
or else we could never play chess with Death.

Our homes float high on restless wind of truth,
disentangled from roads that lead nowhere
because we forget to number each door
which prevents ghosts from haunting our lone hours
sitting alone at tables without books
that preserve faces we try to reclaim.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus walks around the world and knocks on every door to return the faces people lost so they can start to live as their real selves again.

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