Obvious State Of Nothingness
© Surazeus
2025 12 06

If silence is paper money of hope,
worth less that words of desire people speak,
then I will hold illusions in my hands
and give them to strangers on sun-bright streets
who leave their wishes hanging in fruit trees
above the graves of long-unworshipped gods.

Words I write on blank pages of dream books
function as linguistic barometers
that measure emotions of citizens
who ignore harbingers of social change
encoded as puzzles in magazines
that scholars read in libraries at dawn.

They would be wise to listen with deep care
of honest attention through active faith
that requires isolation of the heart
to spark conceptual wattage of respect
through search for solace in the doorless room
far from the crowded church of holy hymns.

Today I do not record words of pain
that bomb-mangled children attempt to sing
while lost in ancient forest of mad birds
that share secret proverbs of hungry seas
slashed by startled scimitar of the moon
which gleams incarnadine in apple brains.

Each strawberry I dig from crystal snow
reveals radiant beauty of everywhere
that mirrors unpublished records of crimes
committed by people desperate for wealth
while dancing dizzy on telephone lines
as they consume ripe apples of the tomb.

Atonement drawn from fractured stone of faith
programs instincts of alert cautiousness
that fuels progressive thrum of thought cadence
while scanning dark expanse of hammered breath,
obscured by grim summation of true love
shared by parents and children without fear.

Inspired by social duties to exchange
value for products from fresh rivulets,
I polish metal wings of patient flight
when I attend to tales blind ghosts relate,
though sorrow erupts from sealed heart of love
which refracts words from immortalized stars.

Whatever side of history we choose
in brutal war of state ontologies,
I maintain stance for global liberty
based on strict endlessness of social change
in play nourished by brave naivete
which we perform in orchard of dead gods.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2025/12/…

Orpheus teaches history of humanity at the University of Zarathia, then goes to the Globe Cafe where he eats hamburger and writes poetry in blank book of obscure riddles.

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