Motionless Now Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 01 03

Never quite as faithful as river stones,
my tongue expresses language slippages
with slither-frantic agony of truth
through automatic rainbow laughter flight
to swim across sea of unconsciousness
till I stand stunned on island of blind ghosts.

Dark bottom of the river shimmers clear
with brackish hunger for ironic fear
burnt by aggressive flames of deepest gloom
that bloom assertive fragments of weird tales
with unrestraint respect from tangled bones
that surface from garden soil of brave faith.

My compact body of attentive grasp
breathes dear forgotten details of old plans
because we gather soil onto our masks
while turning over and over in graves,
warped by celebrity of accursed fame
that devours our brains with lust for fake love.

Together bound by constant hope for truth,
we climb more mountains than exist on Earth
to find the sacred garden of the world
where everyone who suffers daily pain
longs to hide bodies behind modesty
though flowers consume our electric brains.

Still waiting in motionless now of fate
with scattered pieces of fake memories,
I slowly assemble puzzle of time
from every story ever told by mouths
that breathe possible theories of desire,
contrived by indifferent god of the sun.

Extracted from landscape of yesterday
by shocking words of comatose contempt,
I note surprising beauty of each truth
that crawls from relentless swamp of desire
to calculate endless nowhere of hope
since we are stranded in Eden at dawn.

Because our ever-watching eyes die first
as tears seep through cracked wall of ardency,
you steal sweet coconuts with crippled hands
from angels stuck in storybooks of gods
while I pretend to play king of the Earth
so I can tend our stable horse with care.

Couched in convoluted space of star light,
I brew wine of sorrow from emptiness
so faith ferments with adorable jokes
till we betray our sacred principles
by throwing river stones in desert sand
then herding cows that will never come home.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/01/…

Orpheus measures how fast motionless now spins in harmony with zillions of atoms that spiral swiftly onward into galaxies of gods.

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