Bodies Float In Sorrow
© Surazeus
2025 07 31

Oblique contention of the laureate
sprays words in conversations of desire
to spin the mind in harmony with waves
which stream our sorrows on flashing lines
depicted as ancient paintings in caves
observed by wanderers on signless roads.

The oak tree sprawling on the rocky dale,
connected by stone walls on either side,
remains safe haven of my aching heart
where I lounge lonely in embracing limbs
far from the teeming market of desire
where jesting troubadours mock royalty.

Holding map of the heavens in my heart,
shimmering matrix woven with starlight,
I listen to cicadas sing at dawn
about strange beauty of the faceless wind,
then carve my name on bottom of the jar
before I bake it in the kiln of hope.

Our voices whisper in tall sycamores
to wake electric sense of sudden storm
that traces absence of my hungry heart
swollen with heaviness of eager hope
so, though we tremble at loud roar of faith,
our bodies float in sorrow of respect.

Each word still missing from resonant spell
reveals confusion of the ink-wet hill
trapped deep in grimy clouds of innocence
uprooted from sharp jangle of safe words
which will evaporate through flash of thought
though we lie silent on the shifting dune.

Glass spiders weave the silver bridge of truth
across abyss of vernal emptiness
where copse of pear trees rattles at my breath
despite solutions burgeoning from books
through resolution of the faceless clown
who knows where everybody wants to live.

No asphodel with tears of pungent wine
contends with arrogance of cheerful fate
since flowers bloom from awful cracks of Hell
with fading memories nameless lovers share
when we decide we love our fateful flaws
because we smell soft colors of fake words.

My heart remembers lake of subtle light
where turtles with aggressive angel wings
float cyber-swift above the singing crowd
because the tree keeps growing from the dirt
despite scars seared by frost and fire of time
by reaching roots in darkness of the mind.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/07/…

Orpheus records magic spells witches recite at sacred ritual of the howling book while Apollo plays electric guitar.

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