Lush Gardens Of Byzantium
© Surazeus
2026 06 25

Safe in lush gardens of Byzantium
where sunlight molds our bodies into souls,
I name the secret children of the world
to honor faceless ghosts of nevertime
who play among the apple trees till dusk
when they return to sleep in blackened stones.

Trapped in epiphany of timeless truth,
I walk into dark forest of my heart
to gather memories kind people lost
and store them in glass treasure house of fate
so wanderers may choose which ones to buy
when silver fish explain the trick of why.

Gold sun glimmers sweetly through gentle trees
to highlight reasons for the dead to dance
though some prefer to scream into the void
while others laugh with bitter joy at death
to prove we know why television tubes
provide base for Buddha to meditate.

Relaxed on fractured stone of pulchritude,
I analyze each diachronic change
in argument structure of mental verbs
composing process of determined hope
based on weird coding patterns of concern
through cognitive mechanisms of faith.

Engaged in the transformation workshop,
I focus fierce attention of my brain
on staging solemn ritual of despair
that mocks obsessive theory of concern
devised to widen scope of consciousness
since death circles back with formal technique.

I never understand words people say
when they express concepts of ocean waves
that murmur softly over golden sand
when all peaceful beings of the world unite
as rainbow family in the national park
where preachers and jesters compete for power.

No one may judge my skill at flattery
since I lounge languidly on wood-ship deck
with passionate respect for mindless breeze
that fills aching emptiness of my heart
with factual statements about faceless gods
who laugh embarrassed I do not believe.

Thus I fill chalice of our global heart
with pungent liquor of sweet petrichor
which melts taut stiffness of my mental state
enough to shelter lonely refugees
who share fake memories stored in new books
that lead our journey to where blind devils live.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/06/…

Orpheus sells books of false memories to people who attend his poetry readings in university bookstores across the land as he searches for Minerva.

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