Find My Empty Grave
© Surazeus
2026 01 20

Faster than excited laughter of rain
that drenches my brain with thunderous good cheer,
thoughts about how to survive rage of death
swirl wildly in waves over sharp river rocks,
yet I forget why I am still alive
as I crouch on smooth stone of bitter faith.

Tall idol that emanates from my brain
projects grand myth of the hero with pride
whose jagged mind of arrogant respect
scrapes the night sky with hunger from despair
based on myopic archive of lost fears
which I initiate through monuments.

Based firmly on conceptual stone of truth
deep in vortex of psychic energy,
I carve names of great heroes on stone cliff
who contribute noble deeds without fear
to sustain momentum of discrete growth
through progress of polite chastity.

Ensconced with courage on top the cracked slab,
inherent in mind-spiraled modesty
with selfless performance to defy death,
I balance scales between epic concern
and intimate sorrow which maintains trust
through different keys of the same global play.

Shocked by peaceful arrival of blind fear,
I watch the blue butterfly of despair
teach existential quandary of the word
that melts contractual elements of truth
with each explosion of soft water waves
that shake foundation of my self-esteem.

I sing molecular music of life
vibrating from cells composing my soul
with colorful ghosts of attentive faith
through legendary laugh of eagerness
to share this time and space of lavender
with strangers trapped by random innocence.

Because I am the learned Astronomer
who calculates fate from choices we make,
I feel stars wink at me with sparking shots
as bright demonic eyes of solitude
who know where I am in the maze of myth
but laugh at me when I ask where I am.

Wind chimes of dizzy hope wake me from death
though I fold leaves in wings of alphabets
that shine as lantern of my naked heart
so I convince fine shadow of the boat
to bear my withered spirit far from time
so laughter cannot find my empty grave.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus stops digging his grave and runs from one hundred screaming girl fans who tear off his head and throw it in the sea where Sappho retrieves it and sets it on the library shelf so he may sing forever tales of epic heroes.

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