Runes On Bones Of God
© Surazeus
2025 06 20

When my heart aches with the sorrow of loss,
remembering souls of people killed by bombs,
I carve their names with runes on bones of God
to preserve spirit of courage and hope
though their conscious minds dissipate in wind
so their voices sing when I play the flute.

Recording variants of the human soul
with measured templates of precise details,
I draw beauty with runes on bones of God,
trimmed by the flawless angst of earnest hope
with twirling blocks that should align all time
with savage moment of our holy kiss.

Forgetting sorrows that drip from wet leaves
as bitter rain long tangled in sly knots,
I smear passion with runes on bones of God
to raze enormous castles of blind greed
that levels playing field for social game
when merchants sell wishes to haughty fools.

Because the future still changes the past
despite intensive force of happiness,
I weave stories with runes on bones of God
that highlight guilt of the vulnerable heart
who plays charade of romance for the crowd
when angels execute the lonely queen.

With blessed assurance of the endless game
adjusting harmony of urgent speed,
I recalculate runes on bones of God
past far horizon of the happy horse
who shows me where our words in silence drown
at startled recognition of the clown.

Soft petals of mulberry violets
sprout from stone idol of the Buddha skull
each time I scribble runes on bones of God
no matter how long devils meditate
in vain attempt to transcend human needs
for us betrayed by weakness of the flesh.

When fierce Athena gazes down at me
with eyes that flash bright lightning bolts of love,
I kiss her lips with runes on bones of God
to show how deeply I adore her soul
through signs that indicate alternatives
to sharp equation of her wedding dress.

When she wears mask of luminous concern
to face unfiltered light of cosmic truth,
I map the trail with runes on bones of God
where she wears sacred artifact of faith
as white lace dress iconic from her art
to show me wisdom at the cliff of time.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/06/…

Orpheus eats apple pie baked by Emily Dickinson who shyly plucks strings on the lyre of Mercury and asks if he will teach her how to play and sing spells of truth.

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