Explore Our Crazy World
© Surazeus
2025 03 07

I have become the gold cloud in the sky
with eager laughter of the running horse
through passion to explore our crazy world
before they blow it up with greedy bombs
so only mute trees grow where empires thrived,
transforming our bones into juicy fruit.

My eyes consume light trapped in shapes of hope
composed of secrets people throw away
while trapped in tangled tongues of wordlessness
with angry penitence of futile faith
born from confusing trees of honest rocks
that tumble haughtily in gruesome streams.

When ghost of God possesses my frail body
I impersonate that strange deity
with professional parody of faith
which channels subconscious angst of desire
to be light that fractures galaxies
with spinning obsolescence we exchange.

While mapping bold catastrophe of hope,
the ecstatic pessimist of fake Mars
contrives to imitate electric time
when he drives truck of curiosity
while Bastet rests her paw on his right hand
to guide their journey across the waste land.

Though Sirius plants the tangerine tree
on what he thinks is last day of the world,
he walks backward to unspool road of time
past all the people rising up from death
to find the first tree that grew from the Earth
one hundred forty million years ago.

Since he thinks greenness is one kind of grief
that transforms wounds of sorrow into blooms,
he decides he is not going to grow old
while building walls of stone with bleeding hands
so no one else can eat fruit of his tree
which gives us the magic power of speech.

I see the planet Jupiter gleam white
beside silver joy of the crescent moon,
both lights reflected into the surly pool
that cleanses my spirit with evening glow
hidden in pages of never-read books
to preserve memories I share with no one.

Gesturing his hands to control the waves,
Sirius chants spell based on ocean song
so no one can now recognize his face
abandoned in dim shadows of lost days
to become gold clouds in the morning sky
which transforms juicy fruit into his bones.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus strolls among the fruit trees of his orchard on the dew-wet hillside while Ophelia attends the Association of Writers and Writing Programs conference.

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