Ghosts Of Fake Words
© Surazeus
2025 05 16

Along bright beam-path of the lonely moon,
heart beating wild with dark misshapen wings,
I run toward glowing shadow-heart of hope
that winds out spiral-flight of honesty
for eye-swirl mist of harrowing desire
to aim my soul straight through eternity.

Accelerating leap of earnest faith
propels my soul across night-wide abyss
with fierce intent to reach infinity
on eager wings I bought from Icarus
who hides in cave of illusions to weave
expansive matrix of our mutual minds.

Enclosed within courageous form of faith,
that whirrs from tides of nothingness I feel,
my heart embraces time-strong vanity
to drive fate of my heart against harsh rules
restraining fierce aggression of my hope
to play competing game of arrogance.

Regret winds taut with anger self-control
by which I rein assertion of my rights
to manage flushing flow of energy
that fuels my mission to investigate
confines of caverns gleaming rich with wealth
I wish to extract with world-crafting hands.

Attained by bloated conceit of false faith,
through aggrandizement of bland boastful pride,
I glut my heart with insolence of praise,
disposed toward innocence of vacant nymphs
who feast on rumors swollen with grim tears
despite offensive charge of charity.

Each object pulsing with Solarian light
vibrates bright outlines of existing forms
beyond horizon of our consciousness
in mountains haunted by ghosts of fake words
whose hands caress my brain with pungent lust
for bitter juice of my sea-mirror soul.

Trapped by eternal glow of evening dusk
that challenges rich substance of my faith
with naked longing of my heart heart,
I exit pale of sacred temple hall
so I experience struggle to survive
till I return home with treasures of truth.

Trite manifestation of empty choirs,
when I paint mural of our tribal tale
with blood that oozes from my reckless mind,
deranges how my brain processes facts
now symbolized by divine characters
misconstrued as normal people we are.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/05/…

Orpheus directs choir of ten million poets to sing grand epic tale of human experience, then we all go out and eat plates of nachos with ground beef, cheese, and guacamole.

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