Never Take Us Home
© Surazeus
2025 03 15

Though I could try to believe anything
I prefer to measure reality
with objective words I steal from the moon
by speaking thoughts the trees breathe out as air
which translates firmament of crystal eyes
to furrowed fields where wheat sprouts from our skin.

Strange stories we bake in memory bread
contain sufficient formulas to cheat
how fast we drive on lonely country roads
that never take us home to that weird place
where we fool ourselves we may still belong
till radios scream conspiracy theories.

Regret for how my arrows pierce my back
blinds me to snide disdain of river stones
who declare with loud laughter of dark waves
that the world will end in both fire and ice
though we tell the old television set
why we want to drive to the waterfall.

Shocked in candle-lit room of oblivion,
I pretend I have never been awake
enough to taste the phosphorescent bulb
that floats above my castle built of sand
despite waves of distraction that confuse
people who think their dreams never come true.

Yet I will climb the ladder to the sky
so I can find palace of crystal eyes
where God sits on fake throne of dragon skulls
watching me bumble along my life path
with no direction home beyond the bus
till I fall asleep under apple boughs.

I refuse to rub strangeness from my sight
since I break the fragile plate of smeared ice
by talking to the bashful river naiad
whose star eyes magnify my mushroom mind
with vital flecks of hungry apple seeds
while I trace shadows of falling asleep.

This land of river vales was never mine
but I have always belonged to the land
wherever I have walked ten thousand years
so I possess the lonely apple tree
to earn salvation of the baptized clown
because I think I am the star-blind seer.

I find no salvation of holy truth
while walking signless road across the land
to build the shining city on the hill
that must be Camelot of glamored myths
where my ancestors danced each summer eve
to bind their bodies with red thread of fate.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/03/…

Orpheus drives the station wagon on the country road in West Virginia that takes him home to the place where he belongs.

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