Sunday, January 20, 2019

Keeper Of The Sacred Pipe

Keeper Of The Sacred Pipe
© Surazeus
2019 01 20

Marching before Lincoln Memorial,
Nathan Phillips, Elder of Omaha,
inspired by spirit of his wife Shoshana,
beats drum and chants the Spell of the Crow Fair
to lead his people in song of the Earth
that vibrates clear from land of Onatah.

Chanting, "We are the Spirit of the Earth,"
the Keeper of the Sacred Pipe stands tall
before the man who broke the chains of slaves,
and calls for equal rights of every human
who shares this country sea to shining sea,
together on our land of Onatah.

Gazing beyond time at the pure White Whole,
the strong warrior who fought in Vietnam
and Water Protector at Standing Rock,
leads the people of his heart to proclaim,
"We all dance together in sacred hills,
one human tribe on land of Onatah."

Gang of young Anglo boys wearing red hats,
that read Make America Great Again,
surround the Native American Elder
and chant enraged, "Build the wall! Build the wall!"
but he faces them with calm dignity,
wise Love Wizard for land of Onatah.

Standing before people of America,
Nathan says, "I sing for freedom of all,
though they shouted in my face, Build the wall,
for my people lived here ten thousand years
on sacred land with no prisons or walls,
united tribes on land of Onatah."

Spreading both hands to Eternal Blue Sky,
the Keeper of the Sacred Pipe proclaims,
"We take care of our elders and our children,
so I wish I could see energy of boys
channeled into making our country great,
for we all share this land of Onatah."

The angry boys who try to build high wall
enclosing sacred fields of Wakanta
flee into the shadows of their dark fears
while honest people of America
hold hands and follow Nathan in new prayer
to protect our shared land of Onatah.

Marching before Lincoln Memorial,
Nathan Phillips, Elder of Omaha,
inspired by spirit of his wife Shoshana,
beats drum and chants the Spell of the Crow Fair
to lead his people in song of the Earth
that vibrates clear from land of Onatah.

Saturday, January 19, 2019

Game Of Chess With Death

Game Of Chess With Death
© Surazeus
2019 01 19

The laughing tornado of happiness
follows closely the quick-eared cat of time
who leads me through the maze of mirror masks
to secret haven on the turtle shell
where we drink milk and watch the sun rise red
so I can play the game of chess with Death.

Blind children write their names on sheets of gold
though church bells ring the time for chanting spells
old as mountains where no angel returns
with flashing diamonds mined from ancient stars
falling bright red across the midnight sky
before I play the game of chess with Death.

The best minds of our generation sit
on couches in glass computerized homes
where angel-headed hipsters discuss facts
about strange forces of society
determined by genetics of our brains
although I play the game of chess with Death.

Transforming from the starry dynamo
that clatters with the machinery of night,
I dance alone in Stonehenge when bright stars
that crystalize matrix of diamond souls
reveal true nature of my secret mind
because I play the game of chess with Death.

I fly the turtle starship through vast web
of shimmering tendrils binding galaxies
in pulsing supercluster spinning wheels
that spiral outward from divine White Whole
to generate my conscious soul from coils
after I play the game of chess with Death.

We walk together on lone country road,
holding hands in timeless glow of the sun,
then I look down at you to see your eyes
gleaming blue as sky after the storm
that weaves lightning into your golden curls,
therefore I play the game of chess with Death.

We will find paradise beyond the ridge
enclosing arid waste land in hill ring
where fountain of youth flows with magic light
to sparkle clear in each cell of our brains
so we remember how each star was born
from hour I play the game of chess with Death.

I run with young Odysseus though dark woods
with spears we forged from cavern of lost souls
to hunt wild board and roast it over flames
then feast with friends in temple of blind pride
and celebrate wound it gouged in my heart,
not why I play the game of chess with Death.

One World We Create

One World We Create
© Surazeus
2019 01 19

Ten million aspects of the multiverse
fold on each other like propeller blades
that flash across the landscape of my mind
while I soar singing on tendrils of time
and merge into single plane of my eye
as they spiral into this planet now.

I walk along the river in the woods
while watching sunlight flicker on the water
and breathe cool wind that blows across the field
where flowers blossom under sparkling clouds,
then sit on cold gray stone and watch quick birds
swirl slowly in wide circles of vast time.

All bright fantasies of social success
are washed away from aching of my mind
by flashing laughter of the flowing stream
that washes clutter of my busy days
from hollow cavern of my anguished heart
till I sit empty in weird timeless glow.

Each foreign fragment of the multiverse
that reflects various possibilities
of what events could result from each action
all flow away and vanish in each raindrop
till nothing remains but what is real now,
so I can see who I am in this world.

All possible worlds that could have been real
vanish to nothing each moment time flows
with each impulse of flashing molecules
that spiral tight around each other now
from constant motion of cause and effect
so all multiverses blend one real world.

I turn and see you walking in sunlight
to sit beside me on the cold gray rock,
then kiss me as our eyes connect our souls
to weave our multiverses in one world,
the only universe where I want to be,
now here with you in one world we create.

Friday, January 18, 2019

Volatile Waves Of Emotions

Volatile Waves Of Emotions
© Surazeus
2019 01 18

Savor those volatile waves of emotions
that hurl you laughing at abyss of death
for we must ride these anxious tides of hope
that carry us far from womb of desire.

Each wave of passion that spews from your heart
will carry you closer to your paradise
with seething joy from sorrowing despair
that makes you feel so alive with sweet love.

Intense compassion for each living soul
motivates progress over sea of death
so laugh with joy at each wild undulation
that lifts our minds high toward ecstatic truth.

Harsh buzz of anxiety jolts through brains
of weird perceptions to reveal strange truth
that lust for pleasure burns from fear of death
to animate our joyful song for life.

Savor those waves of volatile emotions
that propel us singing on sea of death
to channel passion of arrogant faith
which animates our play on stage of fame.

I walk around silent trees in dark forest,
to chase rainbow wind of volatile faith,
who reach out fingers of timeless compassion
that jolt my spirit awake with weird truth.

While walking with hot crowd of nameless strangers
I feel psychic energy from each brain
tangle my vision with one thousand voices
through fractured cacophony of false faith.

Through spells of action I hum into words,
I harmonize opposing thoughts of faith
to weave new world view in sweet melody
that merges ambition with selfless love.

Savor those waves of volatile emotions
which spin propellers of exploding hearts
to channel passion of elaborate truth
in holy scripture of my testament.

When I was unsure of my place in life,
I looked away from dominating eyes
then talked to trees about human desire
to breed children who devour fruit from trees.

I write my visions on water of rivers
that flow in cycles of aquatic change
through revelation of new testament
that I compose from molecules of truth.

When I feel anxious from despair of death
I flush its energy through my frail body,
then navigate new way through maze of lust
to give fruit from my tree to every soul.

Make Love With The Sun

Make Love With The Sun
© Surazeus
2019 01 18

The sun beams rays which penetrate the Earth,
piercing thick abyss of the swirling sea
to activate rings of carbon that weave
coils of genes which spiral into small cells
sparked by light to open clear eye of love
who dreams the universe from the White Whole.

Evolving huge from fish to mouse to human,
I sit outside the building where I work
after eating lunch of sandwich and juice
to gaze at the sun that shimmers pale gold
at the crotch of thick rain clouds in the sky,
and feel desire to make love with the sun.

I want to embrace warm breast of the sun
and penetrate her womb of flashing light
to fertilize huge egg of conscious life
so blazing sphere of helium bulges pregnant
with ten thousand planets teeming with life
of organic creatures woven from carbon.

How arrogant I am, frail human soul,
desiring to fertilize our sun goddess
who beams particles of light from hot lust
and weaves our world from quick spiraling waves
with flashing atoms which pulse in my brain
so I can dream this humorous blasphemy.

I am small fragile flare of the great sun,
glowing for my brief hour on spinning globe
that spirals recklessly on flashing wings
through boundless void of possibility
to merge mirror multiverse in one mind
who always wakes vast inside my pea brain.

So though I sit here, small inside frail flesh,
I feel affinity with our sun goddess
who always watches me through her bright eye
with indifferent love for fleeting success
past my failure to become the whole world
though I spew spell-wording songs in her wind.

My brain spews seeds of visions in word songs
that sprout from humorous soil of dreaming brains
and bloom flowers of truth in fields of world views
so sun-sparked bees brew honey from their spells
which propagate concepts of surreal faith
to flash beacon of truth over sea of fear.

Our heads flash as beacons of our weird truths
so we follow each other across sea
of aching despair to find paradise
we design from waste land of tangled hopes,
then sit together under Tree of Life
and share our experience of the White Whole.

Ripples On The Water

Ripples On The Water
© Surazeus
2019 01 18

Why should I lament that after I die
I will be forgotten by dreaming minds,
and my name, unrecorded in the books
of chronicles about heroes and fools,
will vanish in breath of indifferent wind
to sing my thoughts as ripples on the water?

Weird darkness of horror at flash of death,
that demolishes the dreams of our minds,
shimmers under our daily happiness
of busy actions when we produce food
we share with friends at the table of tales,
and tell each our our hopes for success.

We gather every day at this round table
and tell each other how we walked the way
of obligation to sustain fierce love
connecting our souls to strangers we know
well enough to accept the names they claim
equal to faith for tasting precious truth.

Your familiar faces bind my wild soul
to solid foundation of this frail world
with mask of absolution that conceals
anxiety of influence which floods
heart of darkness with light forged by huge stars
so I can live my wild and precious life.

Fractured light of our eternal blue sky
mirrors my nameless personality
which I project at strangers who reveal
quick vibrant energy which motivates
my heart to tell you everything I feel
so we bond in this hour of soul exchange.

Knowing Death will annihilate my body
and obliterate all memory of my name,
I channel energy of anxious fear
to fuel progress through waste land of despair
so I conserve principles of weird faith
when I regenerate my flashing soul.

Facing blankness of death inside my heart,
deep as abyss of nothingness we are,
I turn and search for the stranger to love,
so we can copulate by flowing stream,
which will reincarnate, again in flesh,
immortal soul of genes in our new child.

Time will obliterate our bodied spirits
unless we find sweet lover of our hopes
to transform our bodies in one new body
who will regenerate our ancient souls
preserving memories of our active force
so our children will live after we die.

I see your face in ripples on the water,
sweet stranger I love who walks by my side,
and silently share progress of desire
on endless winding road of this weird life,
together in shining air of soft words
yet so far apart in dreams of the light.

I write letters in dry dust of the world
to record visions that flash through my eyes,
hoping my children for ten thousand years
will see this same vision of soul rebirth,
then regenerate our immortal soul
through new bodies with strangers they will love.

Yet same expanding sun that forges light
sustaining conscious life on spinning globe
will swallow this sphere of water and wind,
and scatter these molecules of our brains
to flash dismembered far in blank abyss
of timeless nothingness from which we sprang.

Beamed from beating pulse of the great White Whole,
we all evolve from swirling sea of light,
then play our wild and precious lives of love
ten thousand generations of bright minds,
perceiving sweet transcendent truth of hope,
and then submerge back into sea of light waves.

Sparkling Pool Of Narcissus

Sparkling Pool Of Narcissus
© Surazeus
2019 01 18

The singer floating face-down in the pool
of moonlit blood knows why the soul requires
quaint formulas of magic spells to sing
electric passion which resurrects truth
from rotting corpses of our ancient gods
who suck our blood while we sing hymns in church.

The Raven King who rises from the dead
floats from the pool of tears with glowing eyes
to stand on stage before the roaring crowd
and twang vibrating strings of ancient lyre
Orpheus used to lead souls back from Hell,
and sings about painting the red door black.

Wild wizards of the wind on rolling stones
rumble across the island of bright mist
to follow the Raven King to Stonehenge
where elves and fairies now disguised as humans
dance in the moonlight of their aching hearts
to beam energy of love through their minds.

Stuck in the tangled wires of Cyberspace,
I fly the world wide web of ancient myths
to search libraries of the Neitherlands,
wandering with ghosts in Wood between the Worlds,
then dive down deep in portal pool of truth
to explore the multiverse of our dreams.

While wandering Wilderness of Wailing Wights,
I find the Raven King in ancient tree
that grows alone on roadless plain of Nowhere
who flutters wings and gazes in my heart
with eyes dark as lightless stars called black holes,
then weaves light-threads in neurons of my brain.

Weaving beams of light forged in ancient stars
in tapestry of visions of my brain,
the Raven King reveals process of change
transforming one-eyed sperm of sparkling seas
into wingless angels of human beings,
motivated by love to reincarnate.

Extracting from my breast my beating heart,
the Raven King molds its impulse to fly
from throbbing hammer into frail guitar
so I strum vibrant strings of jangling nerves
and chant programming spells of writhing words
that flash bright visions in your dreaming minds.

The Witch of Water leads the Raven King
dancing in Stonehenge to weave rays of light
in shimmering veil of skin for me to wear
so I wrap rancid flesh in crystal mask
and crawl from Cave of Shadows on sharp claws
then fly over cities with Earendil.

What message for mankind shall I declare,
I ask the Raven King who smiles at me
through flashing mirror of the multiverse,
then gives me book of visions with black quill,
but pages in the book are blank as clouds,
so I dip quill in my hot blood and write.

Draped in his long black cloak of raven feathers,
I stand before congregations in church
and open book of scriptures I compose
to sing new legends of old cultural heroes
who built foundation of our temple mind
and taught us how to dream the universe.

Now resurrected from the dream of death,
I am the Raven King in Tree of Life
giving ripe apples to the hungry hordes
who wander mute in wild Waste Land of Words
and sing weird visions of their dreaming eyes
in global choir of sorrow-blooming souls.

In sparkling pool of Narcissus I dive
to float in shimmering waves of star-born light
where atoms pulsing with immortal love
compose this temporary body of hope
so I live this one wild and precious life
chanting visions of the White Whole I dream.

Cruel Monsters We Defeat

Cruel Monsters We Defeat
© Surazeus
2019 01 18

How massively the aching heart knows why
Death laughs long at our pathetic attempts
to shore dignity against ruins of truth
half more bound to cracking fall of our fate
since we always return to the cold hearth
where we first heard tales of their fantastic deeds.

Strange roads that lead beyond our broken walls
explain contempt for arrogance of hope
that we will rise above dire situations
faster than lightning cuts with haughty words
to prove we know how seeds explode from dirt
transforming rotten brains into ripe fruit.

What truths we must find in eccentric ways
that urge lives of animals to express
aggressive lust to copulate and die
consuming bloody meat of bodies torn
by hunger to dominate naked world
of rancid energy we swallow down.

Three days I crouch in rotten tree of bees
while snarling wolves wait in flashes of rain
for me to fall from heaven of false hope
so they consume blind sorrow of despair
that leaves me naked in bleak ocean winds
till hour I discover my secret name.

Four hundred million years of evolution
wind tight in tense coils of my muscled soul
to wake each memory they fought against death
in rapid race across sharp rocks of horror
and grasp angry wind of harsh retribution
to fight death and rip out his lusting heart.

Tense on jagged rocks of spirit salvation
I still stand firm against cold blustering wind
to glare in eyes of hunger for despair
till snarling demon backs away in fright
and licks my palm so we become best friends
as ape and wolf explore waste land of hope.

What sacred truths of death and love now shine
seething beneath savage surface of nature
which reveal patterns of energy we rein
to harness hostile hunger for our gain
as we control impulses to attack
and glide more cautious through harsh wilderness.

The ape and wolf evolve to man and dog
who hunt hostile wilderness in one pack
to fight reptile demons in sweltering caves
then roast them over flames on beach of war
to celebrate our conquest of this world,
so we become cruel monsters we defeat.

This One Wild And Precious Life

This One Wild And Precious Life
© Surazeus
2019 01 18

Mary Oliver 1935-2019

Through shadows of fluttering leaves on old trees
birds watch young girl who ran away from home
construct small huts from branches and frail twigs
with veil of leaves to capture rays of light.

Standing in brown jacket and orange skirt,
the young girl reaches both arms to blank sky
and catches beams of light with open hands,
then weaves them into tapestry of truth.

From muting bondage of enclosing walls
and clanking doors that silence hopeful thoughts,
she follows Eve from garden of despair
to gaze in round pool that reflects her eyes.

She is not that Mary in the stone church
who stands with open hands of calming love,
since she is the bird in the silent tree
explaining indifference of wind and light.

On pages of the Holy Book she draws
visions of animals with watching eyes
who live mute in shadowed Garden of Eden
to find salvation in beating of wings.

Eager Witch of Water on misty moors
contemplates dark shadow of hungry hope
lurking outside sunlight across the lake
where flocks of geese seek home outside the heart.

Without dissecting souls of animals,
she discovers ancient truth of desire
to replicate the self of conscious love
before Death annihilates passionate trust.

What horrors we try to hide from our eyes
by constructing shelters of wood and glass
that protect frail fragments of secret faith
which can be revived only by breathing wind.

In field of daffodils where otters play
I find three witches holding hands to sing,
Eve, Dorothy Wordsworth, and Mary Oliver,
who call Sylvia Plath in seance of laughter.

So Mary leads me to wild ocean shore
where she dips hands in water of desire
to show me moonlight mirrored in her eyes
where spirit of the universe glows white.

From womb of mother sea we all transformed
light beams composed of atoms forged by stars
to inhabit this body of frail hopes
then learned to sing strange visions of our eyes.

Wise Witch of Water, teach me spirit spells
to conjure souls of plants and animals
so they speak ancient wisdom of our stars
how to live this one wild and precious life.

Thursday, January 17, 2019

America My Lover

America My Lover
© Surazeus
2019 01 17

America, I give you everything,
and though I had nothing for many years,
as I walked invisible on your named roads,
I now control everything that exists
for I do nothing as I dwell on you
and everything flows on course of its will.

When I was young I could not stand my mind,
flashing wild hallucinations of truth,
but I typed quick as galloping of horses
to keep pace with spreading visions of change,
till I constructed vast cathedral maze
of ancient tales from weird words of your bones.

America, who contains multitudes
of lost souls, I know we will never end
the human war of intense competition
between opposing factions of the mind,
to conserve purity of the one tribe
or progress to unite all tribes as one.

The white-haired wizard of flashing photons
who taught us how to split the spinning atom
played violin under eternal blue skies
to calm our beating hearts during the cold war
when thousands of atom bombs stood in rows
of monstrous titans, poised to blast the world.

America, I see you on the beach
walking naked in cool pacific waves
to meditate for world peace in the wind,
angelic priestess of the cosmic mind
looking at yourself through the timeless grave
to see yourself mirrored in our blank faces.

I see the face of Trotsky in the mirror
when I walk streets of Seattle in rain
to find the lizard singing in my brain,
then from bright flash of lightning she comes,
Goddess of Liberty holding blank book
she gives me with mission to write my dreams.

America, I fill your library books
with tears of people struggling to survive,
whose names are written on the sands of time,
washed away by aggressive waves of war,
recording their tales with blood of their brains,
billions murdered in twentieth-century wars.

I walk the waste land of America,
leaving endless rain of Seattle behind
to stand on signless road of shining time
and sing weird riddle of the laughing clown
to prophesy coming of the Star Queen
who wakes inside the heart of every woman.

America, you are my paradise,
this evening land of Massachusetts mist
where refugees from fierce religious wars
sailed wild oceans to find and colonize,
building cities on bones of Onatah,
sweet corn maiden who haunts my waking dreams.

I walk away from church of bright illusions
to play harp of David on city streets
and build new world view of atomic truth
on ruins of religion I escaped,
composing scripture for the atheist
who howls wild anguish to quick traffic flow.

America, your apple blossoms fall
from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil
that grows in my backyard in Georgia town
where I sing to birds about human heroes
who rise from the dead to play King of Earth,
reborn in my children with my strange mind.

I map history of mankind who explores
wilderness of desire beyond walls of Heaven
to defeat cruel vampires of the waste land
when Russia and America make out,
lovers on the wide river of lost souls
that flows from mountains of death to the sea.

I Do What I Will

I Do What I Will
© Surazeus
2019 01 17

Legends present heroes of the social code
who walk about the land to battle slavers
to protect people and communities
from oppression of criminals and tyrants
by fighting for the rights of average people
to live their way according to free will.

Heroes are loners, duos, gangs, or armies,
the lone warrior, the dynamic duo,
the gangs of eccentric individuals
who assist the bold charismatic leaders,
and the god-like generals of giant armies
who found dynasties of arrogant kings.

Strong men assert social force of their will
to support the rights of individuals
who contribute to their communities
by working for their own private success,
so they confirm their soul with self-control,
their liberty within confines of law.

I follow my own way on road of life
and fight for right to assert my free will,
then join with others fighting against tyrants
to ensure free will of all citizens
who work together to produce good food,
so I do what I will if I harm none.

Our Body Belongs To Us Alone

Our Body Belongs To Us Alone
© Surazeus
2019 01 17

The core principle of my politics
that rules ontology of my beliefs
is that our body belongs to us alone,
and only we decide course of its fate.

What else can fuel energy of free will
and motivates course of action we take
except desire for pleasure and success
that fulfill dreams of our most secret hope?

I am aware of nothing in this world
except this body of blood-nurtured flesh
which nourishes perceptions of my brain
so it can generate my conscious soul.

Though I float nowhere when I am asleep
I wake up encased in this solid body
so I control strict motions of its actions
sparked by desires conjured by my free will.

I analyze needs of my body to live,
investigate surrounding environment,
and consume material that will sustain
chemical operations of my soul.

For too many centuries of life on Earth
in history of our human interactions
stronger people with visions of success
control actions of people using rules.

People in groups who form communities
organize themselves in hierarchies of power
so each person performs their simple function
to support the greater good of the group.

One person always seems to dominate
dynamic actions of the social group
to manage interactions of the many
so everyone is protected and thrives well.

Good leaders with strong respect for free will
support growth and success of individuals
for when each person is creative and strong
the whole community thrives and expands.

Bad leaders with weak respect for free will
attempt to control lives of individuals
to keep themselves in power with forceful rules
which weakens communities with angry fear.

Every law developed by politicians
should enforce actions that respect free will
of every individual in the group
so we do what we will if we harm none.

I will treat other people with respect
so they will treat me with respect in turn,
pursuing happiness of my free will
while avoiding conflict with other people.

Wednesday, January 16, 2019

Our Bodies Generate Our Souls

Our Bodies Generate Our Souls
© Surazeus
2019 01 16

Remember how our soul is formed
from atoms of the sun
that spiral into molecules
of neurons in our brain.

Our body forms from molecules
to sparkle energy
which conjures conscious soul we dream
and makes us feel alive.

Our bodies generate our souls
so we must tend its frame
to maintain operations well
supporting conscious mind.

Our mother sea created us
from light beams of the sun
and wove our bodies into flesh
that conjures conscious soul.

Your Masculine Nature

Your Masculine Nature
© Surazeus
2019 01 16

Your fragile masculinity betrays
weakness of your spirit facing the world
concealed by mask of strength you portray fierce
that hides childish fear of appearing weak.

When people criticize your hostile acts
of aggressive force to obtain your wish
against innocent people, you strike back
with mindless violence to destroy threats.

Most people recognize your natural state
of physical strength limited by bounds
of possible tension you can achieve,
which you perceive as weakness of your body.

The man who can acknowledge how his form
expresses balance of weakness and strength
better controls performance of his hands
to limit force of his actions with rules.

Once you can better comprehend your strength
and understand weakness that limits you,
then you can better control energy
that surges wildly at threatening alarm.

When you perceive danger to you or others
your masculine nature activates surge
of anxious energy to give you strength,
so you must rein its flow to act with love.

When angry tension of masculine nature
floods your muscles with energy of action,
you confirm your soul with strict self-control
to cause effects of good that protect life.

Restrain strong surge of your aggressive anger
to channel strength for constructive result
or you hurt people you want to protect,
so acknowledge fear to control your strength.

Random Process Of Death

Random Process Of Death
© Surazeus
2019 01 16

Across the landscape of our sprawling cities
people drink coffee and talk about truth
affecting attributes through blooming flowers
how blind angels know the real reason why
some people are famous and some unknown
according to random process of Death.

Each person wants to play the noble hero
who transforms the way we perceive the world
through calculations wrought from rays of light
that flicker far across weird chasm of thought
to weave fragile bridge of faith with despair
which avoids the random process of Death.

You cannot catch me leaping eye to eye
through endless maze of myths we must translate
to update program of perceptive brains
so we spot our positions of privilege
that favors our success in game of life
based on code from random process of Death.

We deconstruct the empire of old truth
where males wield whip of absolute control
defining roles each individual must play
extracting food from sorrow of the Earth
so we can eat and copulate to live,
then negate the random process of Death.

In spotlight of our national attention
I prance on stage of life to demonstrate
aggressive gestures of the angry male
who deploys his masculine force to fight
invading army of the alien mind
in defense against random process of Death.

We build high wall around our nation-state
to keep intact our noble way of life
based on good principle of liberty
and equal justice for each living soul
who will participate in growing food
to counteract random process of Death.

Through twisting labyrinth of our noble myth
I run through galleries of nameless gods
and wear their faces on the social scene
so no one knows my anguish of desire
to play messiah for our falling empire
destroyed by the random process of Death.

We redefine what makes men masculine,
to defend women and children with love,
providing food and shelter with strong hands,
rather than abusing women with lust
nor attacking strangers lost in our homeland,
determined by random process of Death.

I sing electric sparkles of our eyes
how pulsing atoms congregate to dream
strange conscious flashing of our swirling minds
when we explore beyond the ruined walls
of paradise our fathers built for us
to escape from random process of Death.

What secret jewels of wisdom will be found
concealed in beating heart of laughing clown
who prances wild before the solemn court
to mock the cruel king with low self-esteem
who locks us behind walls of paradise
to nullify random process of Death.

Fired from employment in rich companies,
millions of artists paint murals of heroes
defeating tyranny of money kings
on every brick wall of their corporate castles
to honor warriors of the revolution
who fight against random process of Death.

The young seer at Round Table of the King
blinded by headlights of technology
assembles puzzle of our new World View
based on ontology of molecules
constructing things from fluid chemicals
to respect the random process of Death.

Equal Opportunity To Grow

Equal Opportunity To Grow
© Surazeus
2019 01 16

Sipping coffee as he stares out the window
at cars flashing past on the busy road,
he grins amused at the strange irony
that our president is a foreign asset
who shut down our government for a wall
that will solve no problems of immigration.

"Whatever happens down in Washington,
whether he is impeached, deposed, or killed,
we, the good people of America,
will continue with rituals of our lives,
working hard at our jobs, raising our children,
and getting together to eat with friends."

Walking outside to catch the bus to work,
he gazes at the vast empty blue sky,
grateful that no meteor hits the Earth,
or that terrorists have fired nuclear missiles,
then gazes at waiting people with love
as warm sunlight glows on cold winter day.

"I am confident our dynamic system
of democracy with opposing parties
will survive well this dysfunctional crisis,
adjusting process of freedom and justice
so every person willing to work hard
has equal opportunity to grow."

Tear Down The Wall

Tear Down The Wall
© Surazeus
2019 01 16

When Stalin cowered afraid in his fort
behind huge medieval walls of the Kremlin,
he murdered millions of innocent people
to keep himself on gold throne of the Tsar.

He built the iron curtain from cement
to imprison free peoples of their lands
so they could not escape his tyranny
to live in lands free through democracy.

The man who builds the strong wall of defense
cowers blind in the prison of his fear,
and kills any person who dares oppose
angry tyranny of his selfish rule.

Tear down the wall to free the minds of people
from fear of strangers who want to live free,
and welcome refugees from brutal wars
so we can help them win back their lost homeland.

When Churchill and Roosevelt stood together
strong against the steel tyrant in the Kremlin,
they contained the genocidal maniac
behind the iron curtain of his fear.

When Thatcher and Reagan united hearts
of Britain and America with courage,
they called Gorbachev to tear down the wall
and give his people honesty of truth.

When Britain and America stood firm
against tyranny of the Soviet Union,
our vibrant system of Democracy
defeated hate of their one-party state.

Tear down the wall to free the minds of people
from hate of people all around the world,
for we live on frail sphere swirling in space,
United Nations of Earth sharing one globe.

For eighty years we English-speaking people
employed principles of democracy
to stand against the mafia criminals
and the tyrants of totalitarian states.

We defeated godfathers of the mafia
and opposed the tsars of the Soviet Union,
till both gangs fell before the Rule of Law
and Democracy now unites the Earth.

Now our system that balances two forces,
with capitalist process producing goods
and socialist process distributing goods,
connects the world with new technology.

Tear down the wall to free the minds of people
from greed of wealth to produce and sell goods
so everyone works and buys what they need
and receives health services from the state.

Now Putin cowers angry in his fort
behind the medieval walls of the Kremlin,
seeking to rebuild the cruel soviet empire
by opposing our democratic states.

Seeking revenge against our victory,
and the break up the alliance of Otan,
Putin sends agents and provocateurs
to stir discord in our democracies.

May seeking to leave the European Union,
and Trump shutting down government
of the United States to build high wall,
weakens and corrupts our democracies.

Tear down the wall to free the minds of people
from pride of blind nationalist arrogance
so we join United Nations of Earth
to work together with respectful trust.

Now May and Trump are eager willing assets
that Putin employs to exact revenge
against both Britain and America
by causing chaos in our democracies.

Yet democracy can adjust to change
with flexible alignment of new strength
to fight back bold against harsh tyranny
and maintain principles of liberty.

Because we hold elections every four years
we maintain constant controlled revolution
to change direction for our ship of state
and restore balance to democracy.

Tear down the wall to free the minds of people
from ambition of greedy mafia thugs
for no tyrant trying to control our minds
can win against truth of democracy.

We will elect new leaders to take power
who revere principles of liberty
and restore balance to democracy
that maintains justice and freedom for all.

This threatening revenge of Putin will fail
as America grows stronger than before
fueled by honest love of democracy
where every soul is equal under law.

When Tsar Putin falls from power in disgrace
new wiser leader will rise from the people
to establish democracy in Russia
so we work together for liberty.

Tear down the wall to free the minds of people
from fear of strangers so we live as friends,
all lands in United Nations of Earth
working together for justice and peace.

Overthrow All Tyrants And Kings

Overthrow All Tyrants And Kings
© Surazeus
2019 01 16

We will overthrow all tyrants and kings
and defeat the greedy Lord of the Rings
to free the minds of people from dark fear
so we share Earth with honesty and love.

I read once that our sense of smell is first
to fail when we are just about to die
so all day long I walk around my world
and sniff the essence of things, good and bad.

Expelled from city walls of paradise
by cruel tyrant king who thinks he is god,
I wander Waste Land where no stores shine bright
on signless highway to the Promised Land.

I play guitar on desolate road of skulls
where no one hears but ghosts of memories
tragic tales of superheroes from folklore
who vanish in relentless winds of time.

No Pecos Bill, no Clark Kent Superman,
no Hercules, nor Robin Hood appear
from colored pages of fantastic tales
to help defeat the gangster in the castle.

I smell sharp acrid scent of magic power
vibrating loud on hot electric waves
when I climb the high One-Eye Pyramid
to map vast chessboard of America.

Through Eye of Amen-Ra I watch fierce war
of civil strife raging in Cyberspace
between wise witches of creative love
and blood-thirsty zombies of racist hate.

What role can some blind fool like me perform
in tragic play Fall of America
when long-time enemies of Liberty
install greedy mafia thug in our White House?

When God incarnates as tarantula
who calls me to be prophet of her truth,
I will recite weird magic formula
converting jester to messiah sleuth.

How can we contain the tyrant in jail
before he breaks game of Democracy
and declares himself President for Life
because he is the son of Jesus Christ?

When I explore the waste land of our myth
I kneel in chapel hall on ocean shore
till Lady of the Lake puts in my hands
the Holy Grail that brims with blood of Christ.

"Whom does the Grail serve?" she asks of my heart,
so I reply, "The one who wields the Grail,
as leader of the tribe, serves all Mankind,
protecting every person in their care."

The wounded Grail King, raging in his fear,
hides terrified behind the high stone wall,
because he steals from hands of working men,
so his safe haven becomes his harsh prison.

Following Adam and Even from Paradise,
the Wizard Wordsworth leads us to the lake
where Narcissus searches shadows for Echo,
till we wander in waste land of world war.

Grasping Rod of Moses, Tom Eliot
leads us singing hymns through waste land of fear
along the Oregon Trail to Idaho
till we arrive in lush Elysium.

The Holy Grail is the Womb of the Mother
who generates life from the Seed of the Father,
thus reincarnates their souls in new Child,
the Holy Trinity of Family.

The Father, the Mother, and the new-born Child,
together walk the desolate signless road
as refugees from civil war for power
across vast desert to the Promised Land.

We gather by the river in Missouri
after walking waste land of Mexico
to escape fierce drug wars in Nicaragua
while the Grail King hides in Castle of Fear.

Sweet scents of Rosemary and Lavender
suffuse the breeze on river shore at sunset
where refugees from wars in distant lands
assemble at the Round Table of Trust.

Now that we find peace in welcoming land,
we must form strong army of righteous warriors
and return to the land where we were born
to fight cruel gangsters for Democracy.

We must find courage in our lonely hearts
to work together for Democracy,
uniting all nations of Earth in one mind
to maintain honest game of Liberty.

We will overthrow all tyrants and kings
to free every land for Democracy
so everyone is equal in the law
to live free as they will if they harm none.

Tuesday, January 15, 2019

Unrecorded By Myth

Unrecorded By Myth
© Surazeus
2019 01 15

I want to walk through every little town
in every country of the entire world,
feeling sunlight glowing on tufts of grass
that flourish over the edge of stone walls,
and there meet every nobody who lives
in every house sheltered under tall trees.

The vast world is full of small country towns
laced with roads weaving among large green lawns
where children play behind the wooden fence,
and laugh as wind rustles through watching trees
in timeless afternoon of carefree fun,
then go inside to eat as evening falls.

I want to lounge on upper balcony
with the inhabitants of every house,
and listen to them tell the family lore,
and laugh about the most eccentric ones,
and sigh with sorrow for the tragic ones,
then drink a toast to their innocent young.

Ignoring famous gods in halls of glass,
politicians, singers, and movie stars,
I want to meet common people of Earth
who go about the rituals of their lives,
nameless and unseen in streets of small towns,
to live and die unrecorded by myth.

Fragile Angel Of Apple Trees

Fragile Angel Of Apple Trees
© Surazeus
2019 01 15

Walking hot dusty road through Sataniv,
past gardens behind short crumbling stone walls,
through lush hills of Scythia in the Ukraine,
I meet fragile angel of apple trees
who grins at me with eyes vast as the sky
through her long flowing mane of chestnut hair.

She takes my hand with soft flirtatious smirk
and leads me through stone gate to her home garden
where we sit together among fresh herbs
under broad canopy of fluttering leaves,
intoxicated by pungent scent of flowers
and sweet songs of birds chirping in cool shadows.

Leaning close to each other in soft heat,
we breathe in essence of the other deep,
kiss with timeless affection of calm trust
to savor taste of sweet spirit we desire,
then gaze in clear eyes of the well-known stranger
and blush with smiling pleasure of true love.

Lying pressed together under boundless sky,
breast to breast in tender embrace of faith,
we caress each other to become real,
enchanted by warm presence of the other,
then kiss soul to soul to become one mind,
merging into one glow of aching love.

Gazing at each other with flashing eyes,
we exchange true vows of eternal love,
and grin as we kiss again among flowers
that drop white petals in our tangled hair,
and we breathe sweet scent of bright timeless hour
that contains all history in changeless now.

Caressing her cheeks, soft as apple blooms,
I kiss fragile angel of apple trees,
then gaze in her eyes gazing down at me,
tasting delight of her breast on my chest,
delighted at tender beat of her heart,
as we float in soft breeze of timeless love.