Mind Machinery Of Heaven
© Surazeus
2026 07 05

When mind machinery of Heaven programs
my brain to perceive world of seething forms,
cluttered with people searching for their souls,
I wander trapped by hush of evening skies
where dead star tries to teach me how to shine,
but I steal the last apple from the snake.

When I hear the wind whisper secret names
I laugh as the river answers with jokes,
though gloom spills across rooftops of despair,
tangled in telephone wires of regret,
and into mouths of strangers without books
who wait for bus to Hell that never comes.

When weird river of eternity sings
about the suffering of war refugees,
I watch one reckless star of fate break free
from machinery of heaven to convert
my heart to faith in blind witch of true love
because light survives its own loneliness.

When Evening that wears gown of silver mist
hangs black pomegranate of urgent faith
above the crowded graveyard of dead gods,
new star of wisdom opens wounded heart
as fountain flowing with honey and milk
that could heal spirits of the traumatized.

When Tree of Knowledge drops another branch,
that represents how close relationships
could be severed by words of bitter fear,
I attribute fracture of honest hearts
to wordless mathematics of regret
which realigns our quest for paradise.

When turbulent concern of ardent hope
unspools established legacy of trust,
I wander lost in cluttered field of lies
with lamp some old philosopher gave me
that casts uncanny rays of false insight
on faces twisted with uncertainty.

When I hide in cathedral of glass masks,
where light rays slant against logical sense,
I gather fragments of discarded tales
and puzzle them in vast collage of truths
which almost forms coherent view of life
till wind blows leaves of grass in lake of dreams.

When horse of sorrow on the signless road
reveals weird secret of building dream worlds,
I populate Garden of Eden with ghosts
of innocent people killed in cruel wars
so I can pretend they live happily
in perfect Heaven of my fantasy.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/07/…

Orpheus plucks the black pomegranate and gives it to Ophelia so they lounge under the Tree of Knowledge by the River Styx and eat the sorrows of humanity.

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