House Where Angels Live
© Surazeus
2026 01 02

Our dead ocean that fills my mind with ghosts
proves my soul is no bigger than the Earth
though my body swells huge as galaxies
that nurture conscious brains with twinkling eyes
because they watch my life from the night skies
as if they see the real me in my mask.

Existing whole between Never and Now
that bridges eternity through unsleep,
I leap over silence between loud words
to measure sense of crashing consciousness
that lets me escape meaning gods invent
to trap humans in mute worshipful trance.

Though I would save the butterfly of fate,
I feel confidence of the rolling stone
that I will never save the broken world,
so I will record the forgotten name
of every breath-conscious organic being
who ever wakes from nothingness of light.

Yet when I write the holy book of truth
in vain attempt to save the spinning world,
I will sing till dream words explode in flames
that freeze into the house where angels live
that might preserve strange stories never told,
then hang out at the Pegasus Cafe.

When Phoebus strums guitar of naked joy,
free Venus dances in the apple grove,
Mars hunts dream demons in the jungle hills,
Beowulf works in the car factory,
and Thor erects office tower of steel
where Zeus presides over his global bank.

They built the empire I see fall today,
so I find no ruins in the waste land
where I could shore my fragments of fake truth,
yet every photograph ever preserved
is flash of light in timeless cyberspace
that together form the global God Face.

Since innocence of death shines in our eyes
till we are born from seaweed of the mind,
we linger on the endless road back home
through speculation of the mindless sun
who seems indifferent to our bitter pain,
yet nourishes our bodies with fresh fruit.

My reverent kiss of loyal clemency
may bring the waveless ocean back to life,
so I will name each faceless ghost of hope
who deigns appear from dream-unspooling words
trapped in the holy book no one dares read,
except the girl who was born before light.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus plays architect of the human soul as he designs the house where angels live that replicates itself billions of times around the Earth.

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