Hear The Satellite Sing
© Surazeus
2026 06 23

I can almost hear the satellite sing
each time I walk the crowded city street
where thousands of people with secret names
flow in tides regulated by the moon
because each brain, designed by hungry hope,
is animated by one burned-out star.

Every time I hear the satellite sing
hymns of Orpheus to some long-dead god,
I stop inside glass orthopedic frame
to measure vastness of the spotless mind
that blooms from serpent tooth of earnest faith,
contrary to attentive cloud of fear.

If I choose to hear the satellite sing
while floating in bright pool of time-blind ghosts,
my heart may sprout excessive wings of lust
for dancing without care in field of dreams
with brave defiance of my tragic fate
that conjures the future from each past choice.

Reluctant to hear the satellite sing
about financial slavery of the poor,
I walk up and down Bridge of Memories
to find the weird moment in my childhood
when I first saw her starless eyes of love
black as the New Moon no one ever sees.

Surprised I can hear the satellite sing
time-fractured formulas of ardency,
my wife designs new mask for me to wear
when I drive our car to the Promised Land
so she and our children play by the lake
where faceless demons haunt the sunlit deep.

Entranced when I hear the satellite sing
fairy tale about the woman I love,
I tell the world she is my Sky God Girl
because her honest kiss makes my head swirl
with tense obsession for the way trees dance
since crows invent the language humans speak.

I should never hear the satellite sing
about lucidity my heart requires
to overcome the weakness of my flesh
till I become the hapless Superman
who saves American from tyranny
when I do nothing but sit on my porch.

Inspired that I hear the satellite sing
about sincerity of my brave love
for the charming Princess of Aquitaine,
I dance with her among the hawthorn trees,
shellacked with sleet of the ethereal storm,
to eat our bread with butter and peach jam.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus tinkers with the satellite till he repairs its artificial intelligence with a new brain programmed by pastoral poetry of the English Renaissance.

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