Friday, September 30, 2016

To Live With Joyful Love

To Live With Joyful Love
© Surazeus
2016 09 30

How can we live well in walled paradise
while surrounded by those who seek our death?
While both optimists and pessimists will
employ energy of action to live
through different moral guides of attitude,
making their own lives a heaven or hell,
they will both be struck down by blade of death
with the same permanent finality,
dissolved from the solidity of being,
so whether we live with joy or despair,
starving in greed or feasting in largesse,
we will all cease to exist, thus I choose
to live with joyful love for every creature
who strives to savor fleet pleasures of life.

Thursday, September 29, 2016

Leap Of Orion

Leap Of Orion
© Surazeus
2016 09 29

Chasing swift hart that dodges through oak grove,
Orion leaps from jagged cliff and hurls
sharp spear at bounding stag to stab its heart,
but stumbles when he lands in sloshing muck,
both feet slurped down to his knees in thick slime.

Heart beating in sudden terror, he grasps
at thin vine that trails from tall tree and heaves
to haul himself from stinking mud, but sinks
deeper, sucked down as he struggles in vain
to escape hungry earth, gasping for breath,
when vine snaps and leaves him stranded in shock.

Struggling for hours to escape sucking slime,
Orion watches sun, glowing on trees
with gold fire of beautiful life, sink down
from noon to disappear behind far hills
in blazing flames of terrified despair
as he feels muck suck him down to his waist.

Gasping for breath in lightless freezing gloom,
Orion howls for help, calling out loud
names of his brothers and his playful sons,
screaming into infinite gloom for help,
but no voice answers under shining stars
as he sinks deeper in fear to his chest.

Screaming and wailing as he stretches arms
toward clear blue sky where bright clouds billow white,
Orion shivers and flails in wild rage
then slumps over and sobs as hunger gnaws
at empty belly that sinks in cold muck.

"Sweet Artemas, my warm and loving bride,
I see your face gazing down from bright moon,
and I remember when I first saw you,
while I hunted bright forest of desire,
and saw you standing in slow sparkling creek,
long hair flowing around your breasts like rays
of morning sun that glowed in your gray eyes,
but I shall never embrace you again,
for I am lost in dark mud of despair."

Staring silent at swirling sky of light
and darkness, Orion watches bright moon
and burning sun flash across arching sky,
then whispers as he sinks under cold slime,
"I think this world is a round stone that rolls
swift around enormous eye of hot flame."

Thirteen years later, three young boys appear
on edge of jagged cliff, while hunting boar,
and Helios grips arms of his brothers tight,
then points to helmet their father wore.

"Our father left one morning years ago
when I was six and you were both still babies,
wearing that helmet as he ran to hunt,
but never returned, and our mother wept
as she stood night and day at cottage door,
looking for his face to appear in light,
and calling his name on long lonely nights,
but she died from broken heart for his love,
since he vanished forever without trace,
yet now I see his helmet perched on stone."

Leaning over edge of foul mucky pool,
while his brothers hold rope bound round his waist,
Helios reaches long stick with trembling arm
to hook rusting helmet and lift it high.

Kneeling on rock, three boys weep as they gaze
at face of their father that stares from muck,
skin rotten and both eyes plucked out by crows,
and mouth open in rigid silent scream
as worms slither from sockets of his skull.

Tears flowing from their eyes sparkle on flower
that twitches without care in humming wind.

Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Mist Of Avalon

Mist Of Avalon
© Surazeus
2016 09 28

On dusty road in nameless western land
I wander mute among old twisted trees
that give no whispering leaves or luscious fruit
to quench raw thirst that gnaws my aching heart,
then kneel to gaze at clouds in foul gray sky
and long to dance in mist of Avalon.

While riding sad in sputtering car that spews
noxious exhaust which shrouds tall city towers
in stinking smog, I feel inside my stomach
disgusting fear surge through my wretched flesh
in nauseous waves at factory machines
and long to flee in mist of Avalon.

I stand alone on crowded city street
and strum old rusting strings of cracked guitar
with futile hope to tune my aching heart
with sweet harmonious melodies of love
but my songs are muted by engine roar
that drives me far from mist of Avalon.

I stand on roof of red-brick hall in wind
that blows from mountain frosted white with snow
and stare at hordes of people walking fast
on urgent business of profit, then gaze
back east six thousand miles to distant island
where I was born in mist of Avalon.

Four centuries ago in rich oak woods,
where fairies danced and elves sang charming tunes,
I stood by emerald stone near sparkling lake
to guard Star Queen in long white cotton gown
who blessed each person with her generous hand
and reigned with love in mist of Avalon.

I plucked ripe apples from the tree of snakes
and brewed sweet juice for everyone to drink
but when I wake today in grocery store
I hold tin can of rancid apple sauce
and mourn green groves of Salisbury plain
where apples bloomed in mist of Avalon.

While dancing on lush slopes of Sarum Mound
we saw wise Fairy Queen on white horse ride
in gown of shining silk and crown of gold,
but then her light passed far into the west
while still her sweet song lingered in the breeze
and vanished deep in mist of Avalon.

Yet now on noble lion of bold truth
the Fairy Queen returns with sword of justice
that flashes bright as lightning in the sky
to lead all people loyal to her wisdom
against the deceiver who steals our words
and reigns again in mist of Avalon.

Fairy Queen Returns

Fairy Queen Returns
© Surazeus
2016 09 27

When laughing thunder cracks the crystal sky
and blinding light from divine eyes of love
illuminates bleak abyss of my soul,
I rise from fire-burned ruins of my home
and walk the signless road through careless hills
on quest to find the holy grail of truth.

Now that the vision of our world dissolves
and solid sphere long fixed at central core
twirls swift around the sun that hurls through space
around enormous crystal eye of light
I see that I am but one speck of dust
who dreams itself awake in flash of hope.

How small I am on minute globe of dust
and water that twirls through infinite space
where countless stars in countless galaxies
spiral throbbing hot in vast universe
that surges wild with waves of energy
through neural network of my dreaming brain.

Drenched in rain amid crystal towers of light,
in seething crowd of hundred million souls,
I see Beauty riding Beast in gold dawn
as Fairy Queen bears clean flag of one world
to lead us marching toward tall pyramid
where Ishtar crowns her new Empress of Earth.

Then from the darkness of horrible fear
the Knave of Clubs appears from cave of rage
and strikes to crush her skull with sudden blow,
but Queen of Hearts on angel wings of love
twirls Sword of Justice, flashing with pure light,
and slays the snarling dragon of blind greed.

Ascending One-Eye Pyramid of Power,
our Fairy Queen, who bears in both her hands
Sword of Justice and Scales of Equal Rights,
enchants our hearts with song of loyal love
that flashes visions through clear-worded spells
in revelation of her Holy Grail.

On flat-top pyramid I see three men,
Spenser, Blake, and Milton, in flowing robes,
who bear from blind Saturn the feather quill
of magic spells, carve Runes on obelisk
cut from black marble that record good deeds
of our wise compassionate Fairy Queen.

Then Ishtar grips my hand in shocking fear
and points to comet blazing red as fire
that strikes the One-Eye Pyramid of Power
and all the dynasties of ancient kings
are scattered lost when meteor of pride
strikes the grand temple of authority.

I rise from ashes of victorious war
and walk to river shore with bag of seeds
I sow in pungent soil to cultivate
apple trees that sprout from heart of my chest
and brew rich cider with cinnamon
and honey dripping from the Tree of Life.

No longer will we crown the sons of Christ
as kings to rule the nations of wild tribes
for every man and woman on this world
lives equal in communities of love
and yet we choose one wise person to reign
as Watching Eye on Pyramid of Power.

On arch of triumph stands the Golden God
who aims sharp arrow at my beating heart
and claims just right to rule with life and death
but I escape to wander desert vale
where apple seeds lie dormant in dry dust
and talk with smiling Horse of Liberty.

I found the secret of the Holy Grail,
sanctified blood that nourishes my brain
and generates new body for old soul
when seed of the father activates
egg of the mother to evolve nine months
through each stage of evolution we changed.

Sunday, September 25, 2016

Lost On Kentucky Road

Lost On Kentucky Road
© Surazeus
2016 09 25

While watching lucent moon play hide and seek
with me among trees, I wonder amused
if the three laws of motion will apply
when I leap from high imprisoning walls
of heaven to journey long road of life
by your side, but I turn from your locked door.

Though everyone I ever loved is gone
from dream of this world, now dry dust in wind
that blows down from hills where forest of pines
once shimmered in rain, I stand in new sun
on rocky shore and stare at shining sea
where I see all their eyes winking at me.

I will smile soon and pretend we are free
because my father, who ruled me with glares,
is nothing now but skeleton and dust
in rotting box where oak tree sprouts up tall
from acorn that was lodged inside his skull,
but you are mute when I hold your cold hand.

We sailed across the sea of surging storms
and came to this strange land of silent woods,
but we still hunger and thirst as we trudge
signless road in search for new Wonderland
marked on the map the old wizard sold me,
but every road leads us back to the sea.

Though I carve ancient sigil of my house,
engraved on moss-covered stone of grand hall
where my brother lives in rich luxury,
on oak tree by nameless lake in dark woods
to stake my claim to meadows where lost tribes
lie rotting under roots of wheat, I weep.

I weep for the meadow where I once played
knights and ladies with seven pretty girls
who all starved to death in the recent war,
and wonder if their children still play free
among the apple trees by sparkling lake
where I sang hymn to beauty of her eyes.

When I left Scotland her hills disappeared
in mocking sea waves, yet they call my name
as I walk winding trail in rugged hills
of misty Kentucky, since everywhere
I look with aching desire her true face
appears in form of clouds that drop gold rain.

I know we all will die in turning flash
of endless days, too numberless to count,
but I will dance upon the hungry grave
of broken hearts and then assert my will
to taste sweet fruit that grows from pungent soil
of bleak despair, and name each child I sire.

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Vale Of Tears

Vale Of Tears
© Surazeus
2016 09 24

Though we are born into this vale of tears
the gold-eyed owl that waits in leafless oak,
illumined by the moon of your desire,
will teach me how to read the way of stars
so I may open wide the houseless door
and feel clear waves of light from molten core
of spinning world weave wings for me to fly
and paint the world I design in my eye.

No sign will point the way to vale of tears
where gold-eyed owl of misty midnight moon
peers through thick veil to pierce my secret heart
and teaches me to carve on planks of wood
thin Runes of Dream that imitate tall trees
which cradle honeycombs designed by bees
who pollinate all fruits we humans eat
at feast of fools in crumbling palace suite.

I cannot map the road from vale of tears
since gold-eyed owl transforms into my wife
who stands on pyramid of watching eye
and writes our deeds and words in tragic play
preserved in Book of Life she hides in cave
of dancing shadows flooded by cold wave,
so I escape endless underworld dance
and occupy empty church in weird trance.

In novel tale I explain vale of tears
though gold-eyed owl on television chest
returns from palace of the laughing god
who taught me how to fashion spinning wheel,
and since I drove swift chariot on vast plain
ten thousand years westward in cleansing rain
I stand wise now in field of sun-beamed grass
to measure spirit of atomic mass.

I build high walls around our vale of tears
while gold-eyed owl in hall of broken mirrors
reveals my secret face to all but me
so I design new mask to hide my love
and when the spinning world returns to spot
in boundless universe where I was born
then she will know loving heart is right
when we both die together in moon light.

We dance and sing in haven vale of tears
if gold-eyed owl encrypts arcane spell code
so none but she will know the secret way
through labyrinth of loyalties expressed
when I inscribe new prophecies in book
of truthful lies I leave by singing brook
which teaches me the secret of rebirth
since we are God who wakes on planet Earth.

Friday, September 23, 2016

Vanish In Dream

Vanish In Dream
© Surazeus
2016 09 23

The days of our lives flow on without cease
and hours of dream turn into centuries.
We sprout as children from meadows and hills
like flowers that blossom in sun and rain.
This hour you and I by the sparkling stream
make love before all shall vanish in dream.

We kill and breed as we cover wide land
like froth on wild waves of the singing sea.
We sprout from old trees of our families
like leaves and fruit that vanish in cold wind.
This hour you and I by the sparkling stream
make love before all shall vanish in dream.

Bright stars shine forever in vast dark sky
and the sun fills our hearts with hungry love.
Tall mountains and trees see us come and go
as we live and die in swift flow of time.
This hour you and I by the sparkling stream
make love before all shall vanish in dream.

I disappear in clear sea of your eyes
and our children spring singing from your heart.
I reach out my arms to embrace you close
but you are smoke in the tears of the rain.
This hour you and I by the sparkling stream
make love before all shall vanish in dream.

All Our Memories Of Earth

All Our Memories Of Earth
© Surazeus
2016 09 22

How many people die in crashing cars
to disappear from the dream of our game
on countless worlds that thrive around bright stars
while spinning through lightless void without name.

When Janus reinvents the door of time
and hides inside my throbbing heart the key
that guides me through the labyrinth of rhyme
I stand and sing beside the roaring sea.

I travel forward west ten thousand years,
leaving Lake of Eyes to blaze nameless trails
and guard walled heaven of fruit trees with spears
while teaching children truth with ancient tales.

This is the cozy home I build for you
so brew apple cider beside warm hearth
and decipher if you can this weird clue
that records all our memories of Earth.

Thursday, September 22, 2016

Apple Of Vitality

Apple Of Vitality
© Surazeus
2016 09 22

When Robin Hood and Eve ride the White Whale
from the crystal heaven of Aristotle,
since Copernicus cracked open its shell
to reveal infinite space beyond bounds
of doctrine where spinning galaxies gleam,
will Moby Dick, chasing his lashing tail,
smash the dome where Saint Peter rules as Christ,
so I can eat the apple of true faith?

When Tarzan and Cleopatra escape
labyrinth of Pluto with crystal sphere
that reveals mystery of eternal life,
though I keep losing chess games against Death,
and leviathan lounges on ice berg,
will Odin return from the Underworld
bringing the scroll that Lucretius composed
so I can eat the apple of insight?

When Gollum and Astraea wake at dawn
and climb the stairway to lost paradise,
bearing cracked glass pitcher of honey wine,
then Gandalf emerges from his cracked skull
to fire flame of wisdom from wand of hope,
will Idun bake more pies on pyramid
of world dominion for the feast of crows
so I can eat the apple of desire?

When Caliban and Minerva appear
from mists of Avalon on horse of wind
to show me Runes she carves on skull of Godin,
after Helius teaches me how to make
strong wagon wheels from the Oak of Donar,
will Newton give me book of formulas
for brewing the sweet elixir of life
so I can eat the apple of foresight?

When Hermes and Kwan Yin drive pickup truck
that Chevrolet designed in Wonderland
to lead lost tribes of Scythians home to Scotland,
though Alice soars past on swift Jabberwock
to visit Hiawatha near Lake of Eyes,
will Gabriel visit me on Wizard Island
of Crater Lake with book on astrophysics
so I can eat the apple of creation?

When Phoebus and Epona teach me how
to tame and ride the planet-leaping horse
so I explore valleys where apple trees
sprout from the graves of nameless souls I love
on quest for truth across ten thousand years,
will Saraswati reveal to my eyes
magic of the piston engine at dawn
so I can eat the apple of vitality?

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Saturnus By Tiber Stream

Saturnus By Tiber Stream
© Surazeus
2016 09 20

Lounging on lush shore of gold Tiber stream,
Saturnus strokes his beard of sprinkling rain
that falls from swirling clouds of his wild hair,
and laughs when Sylvia, skipping among flowers,
throws ripe apples into sweet honey juice
that bubbles in brass pot, gold as the sun
gleaming on meadows full of wheat and sheep
where Ceres swings sharp scythe as she chants spells
that transform me into Grandfather Time
so I see Cronus mirrored in my face.

All our ancestors, whose love made us real,
dream alive in virtual web of our minds,
guiding our way in drama of our lives
so every moment seared into their minds
of life and death they suffer and enjoy
beams bright within the mirror of my eyes,
so when I sit in sunlight among trees,
that bloom white petals and small apple buds,
I float in bliss of lost eternity
that rings with every chirp of lonesome birds.

Because these are not the real shining days
when the painted mask of monkeys and kings,
I wear to shield this wounded heart of steel,
that pulses vibrating waves of glass streams
from mountain waterfall of laughing fool,
crumbles in relentless wind of divine faith,
I stand at the open door of dry bones
that stands alone on the mountain of hope
and gaze at the jagged range cold wind carves
to form the eyeball of our spinning world.

Before I step through old door without home
to soar on aluminum wings of fear,
that blind Icarus loaned me for a fee,
I hold the round emerald in my hand
that Star Woman found in the sparkling pool
where she showed me how my face will appear
each year I grow older on road of life,
that winds through labyrinth across chess board,
to play game of thrones for the crown of gems
that links my mind to world computer brain.

Astride the giant pencil rocket broom,
I soar among the swirling clouds in flight
with eighty witches from the cave of gems
who change appearance of my plastic face
to mirror clear the face of every person
who ever walked our world since dawn of time
when first we crawled from lake of dreams to stretch
our hungry hands above our heads and grasp
the fruit of knowledge from the Tree of Life,
so I imitate the Many-Faced God.

But when I strum the lightning-flashing strings
bound on the blue guitar perched on my knee
I realize, while slouching in gold rain
to ruins of Jerusalem I built,
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow
glazed with rain water beside the white chickens
who lay golden eggs I sell at the market
where jester of the crucified god laughs
at how I stumble drunk from church of glass
where statues of angels stare blind at death.

Each moment in the drama of my life,
when I step forward on old creaking stage
before the eyes of people without names,
I see inside my eyes events unfold
when my ancestors played forgotten roles
in social calculation of staged ritual,
and then forget the lines of naked words
that my god-father assigned me to speak,
so I hide in the cave of shadows high
above our drowned city to write new bibles.

I stand upon the shore of broken hopes,
lashed by nefarious waves of Ocean song,
when night devours the world of changing forms,
and see the bright face of my mother clear
shining in the mirror of the iced moon,
and here lament my sophomoric spell
that calculates puzzle of paradise
designed by jubilation of desire,
then throw the Silmaril of true insight
into the surging waves that drown our land.

Then from the ruins of his temple hall,
that crumbles at the turning of our world,
Saturnus climbs up the stairway to Heaven
that arches like a rainbow among stars,
and scatters apple seeds on cement streets
so saplings sprout through cracks of empire strength,
then all our cities sea to shining sea
are swallowed by the roots of hungry trees
that change America to Onatah
where children dance in ring of shining stones.

From swirling mist of morning that gleams gold
in new electric dawn of fertile eggs
Star Woman appears to herald rebirth
of our ancient empire that sprang from Athens
so new age of Aquarius will shine
when the fruit girl with seven eyes returns
bearing water jar to fill hearts with love
and transforms Saturnus into her son
who rides swift horse across the wind-swept plain
and leads us to the Lake of Dreams we lost.

Sunday, September 18, 2016

Snowflakes

Snowflakes
© Surazeus
2016 09 18

Everyone at symposium drinks rich wine,
and Publius Ovidius gazes amused
at faces of senators flushed with cheer,
and Arellius Fuscus claps his hands
as Papirius Fabianus exclaims.
"What wisdom have we learned from little children
that no grown philosopher comprehends?"
Everyone laughs and drinks more sparkling wine.

Gazing past pillars of old marble hall,
Marcus Annaeus Seneca sighs deep
and everyone hushes to hear him speak.
"After I saw most of my large tribe killed,
after Scythians attacked our farming villa,
I wandered grieving in cold falling snow
and stopped by a warm fire on wind-buffed beach
where I heard a young girl without eyes sing
that snowflakes are more enduring than man.
For many years while struggling to survive
I pondered meaning of her cheerful proverb,
confused how fragile snowflakes made of water,
frozen by blustering winds from mountain caves,
which may endure for an hour or three months,
endure longer than living conscious man
who can live just over one hundred years.
Then one day as I sat beneath bare tree,
and watched children mold people from bright snow,
I understood deep meaning of her song
while pondering how matter conforms all bodies.
Snow is formed when water freezes to ice
and then it falls to cover land in light,
but then it melts back to water in heat
of warm rays beaming down from bright sun,
and then transforms to silent floating mist.
Water is always water at base
of its substance, whether it forms snow, ice,
cloud, rain, mist, river, pool, lake, ocean, well,
or waterfall, or mixes with moist soil
to nourish seeds, for one whole element
endures as water which gives us all life
when we drink it to sustain energy
that animates our bodies with desire.
When we fail to drink water we become
slow and dry, and bodies crumble to dust,
but when we drink water its fluid power
animates our bodies with flowing motion,
thus water is declared potence of life.
Humans are composed from more than just water,
generated in fertile wombs of mothers
by spirit-animating seed of fathers,
and then we grow by consuming good food
formed from all four whole elements of nature,
but we age, and matter forming our bodies
dissolves back to its fundamental parts
to disappear forever from this world.
Thus snowflakes are more enduring than man."

Saturday, September 17, 2016

Fake Butterfly Of Happiness

Fake Butterfly Of Happiness
© Surazeus
2016 09 17

I fall through the empty shadows of light,
chasing fake butterfly of happiness
that leads me through labyrinth of blank books
till I stand face to face in broken tower
with princess of justice who has no eyes.

She tells me with gadarene voice of night
as I strum the brass harp of hawkishness
that I must be her myrmidon of rooks
who brings her the most implacable flower
from bright sea where juggernaut angel flies.

I launch into Heaven bound to her kite
and drink Dragon Brain Wine of craziness
that helps me compose new sacred songbooks
so we can sing while we kiss in the shower
and play in ruined castle full of spies.

Though she cannot see me, her deaf shipwright,
she dances toward me with lithe jauntiness
while I catch dragons with heart-wrenching hooks,
then teaches me how to exercise power
and not to weep although everyone dies.

While dancing in mist she births our child sprite
who learns to hunt with clever craftiness
and talks with ravens on shores of clear brooks
where couples play chase in ancient lush bower
then gather in hall to eat apple pies.

The eyeless princess embraces me tight
and teaches me to be spontaneous,
though my brain was designed by laughing cooks,
yet leads me to my grave at our last hour
where we dream of stars under swirling skies.

Friday, September 16, 2016

Spiral Algebra Of Butterfly Wings

Spiral Algebra Of Butterfly Wings
© Surazeus
2016 09 16

When all the stories we can tell are done,
and every locked door hangs broken in wind,
who will climb the tree leaning from the cliff
of despair and fight the sarcastic snake
of death for the fruit of knowledge and lies?

When the ravens gather on leafless trees,
and every child throws real name in the lake
of broken skulls, who will drive their new car
on the gleaming highway though the full moon
reveals crimes of blind faith in civil war?

When every book of new stories and poems
is burned by homeless people by locked church
to keep warm, and all great paintings are blanked
by white mud, who will plant gold seeds of corn
and dig canals from streams poisoned by oil?

When all the actors who strutted on stage
of disguised truth to portray angry kings,
and last queen weeps locked in tower of glass,
who will carve magic runes on shinining screens
of computers that calculate our hearts?

When the last wet human brain is encased
in polished metal skull of robot shells
that operate planes and cars, who will sing
spiral algebra of butterfly wings
that record war of brass angels at dawn?

When the laughing psychiatrist unchains
god-spirit of Apollo to possess
my body, and Kwan Yin kisses my eye
of inner wisdom, who will drive the van
with cameras to map labyrinth of myths?

When the Lion Queen ascends old pyramid
of ten thousand eyes to rule the whole world
with microphone, and sings enchanting spells,
who will record the stories Muses hide
before she resurrects child of the horse?

When King Saturn wearing crown of oak horns
returns from waste land quest as Jesus Christ,
and drinks the blood of the lamb, who will leap
from lightning-shattered tower to fly home
and take us all to heaven without wings?

Cry Of Sorrow

Cry Of Sorrow
© Surazeus
2016 09 16

When Independence stands on temple steps
and utters Cry of Sorrow to the world,
join her rebellion against tyranny
and fight to free all slaves from chains of greed.
I hear the cry of sorrow in dark night
so we sing till the stars gleam with new light.

When Liberty and Dolores hold hands,
we dance together on high pyramid
to celebrate victory over gold crowns
and scatter flowers on heads of our children.
I hear the cry of sorrow in dark night
so we sing till the moon glows with pure light.

Happy Independence Day, Mexico,
out dulcet sister with long flowing hair
crowned with pink blossoms of Cocoxochitl,
daughter of Astraea, mother of us all.
I hear the cry of sorrow in dark night
so we sing till the sun shines with warm light.

Thursday, September 15, 2016

Starman Made Flesh

Starman Made Flesh
© Surazeus
2016 09 15

While slouching in the darkness of despair,
brooding on the betrayals and contempt
my family and friends hurled to stone my head,
I use to build secure wall of mistrust
to protect my sensitive soul from pain,
I hear strange man on the radio sing.
"There is a starman waiting in the sky.
He would like to come down to Earth and meet us
but he thinks he would blow our minds with love."

I laugh as I remember morning light
streaming through stained glass windows into church
that illuminates the tall bearded man
with long hair of compassion, dressed in gown
of purity and selfless love for all,
and how the preacher with black book in hand
told us how that man came down from the stars
and died to cleanse us of sins and mistakes,
then promised to raise us all from the dead
and give us eternal life on new Earth
where no one ever suffers pain or dies,
and lives for all eternity in bliss,
singing and eating fruit from Tree of Life.

I stand in darkness of my lonely home
and gaze long in the mirror on the wall
to see a man with a beard and long hair
dressed in tattered blue jeans and torn white shirt,
and then I laugh as I spread both arms wide
and declare loud to cockroaches and mice.
"I already came down to this weird world
and met myself in the mirror of truth
and now blow my own mind as I realize
I am the Starman waiting here on Earth."

I stare at cars streaming on the highway
to city towers where millions of people
play their parts in the machinery of business.
"Jesus was the archetypal idea
of the Good Leader for his tribe of people,
teaching each person to find soul of God
inside their own body and dreaming mind,
and to express desires through rule of law
to maintain health of their tribe and themselves
so we all thrive together through hard work
as we struggle to survive this harsh world.
Instead of the haughty arrogant leader
who controls people with cruel punishment
and claims to own them like cattle as slaves,
forcing them to work for his benefit
rather than their own rich enlightenment,
Jesus was the leader willing to die
for simple people he pledged to protect."

I stand before the closed door of my heart
and hesitate from fear of angry mobs.
"Spirit of the Loving Leader returns
every time the new leader of a group
decides to dedicate his conscious urge
to organize their actions in whole game
of mutual cooperation and trust
so they live well and raise new children right
by guiding them through wilderness of fear
past bleak waste land of contempt and despair
to build lush paradise with their own hands.
Jesus and his wife Mary Magdalene
raised three children in a bright mountain cave
whose children ruled kingdoms of Europe they built
the past two thousand years of Christendom.
I left the house of my father on quest
to find the Holy Grail, and now I find
billions of us are the children of Jesus,
for he is dead but his genes live in us.
We are each one Jesus returned to Earth."

I laugh and dance with heart sprouting new wings
in my dark house in vast suburban maze
that spirals long from sea to shining sea.
"I will go to all the world and sing spells
to enlighten hearts of everyone lost
in loneliness and despair of crushed hope,
and preach the good news that Jesus is dead,
that all our gods and heroes are long dead,
and we are each one the Starman in flesh.
I will not stop on sacred quest for truth
till each individual person can say
with honest confidence of opened eyes,
I am the Starman, I am God made flesh,
and so are you, for we are all one tribe
descended from the First Mother of Stars."

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Face In Clear Pool

Face In Clear Pool
© Surazeus
2016 09 13

Though all the things we build crumble to dust,
our towers fall, our books dissolve to mud,
our cars clank dead on broken roads to rust,
our televisions stare back at us blank,
and our voices are silenced by bleak wind,
I will kneel in soil by the sparkling stream,
plant small seeds of herbs, vegetables, and fruit,
and tend them till they blossom from my breath.

After statues of kings crumble to sand,
and cities are covered by whispering dunes,
I will walk into shade of yellow woods
and stop for a while where two roads diverge
to gaze at purple mountain majesties
that rise above the plain littered with skulls,
and contemplate how the tall pyramid
far outlasts all contests for power and fame.

I scratch runes of visions that flash my eyes
in swirling white sand of relentless change,
and song of my voice is swallowed by wind
since atoms that compose web of my brain
sparkle as they dissolve to drops of rain
when model of this world and all its lands
I carved on my skull crumbles into soil
where seeds transform my flesh into sweet fruit.

Sunlight sparks seeds soaked by rain to grow tall
into trees that blossom fruit I consume
when I strum vibrating strings and sing spells
to enchant boys and girls in paradise,
then children spring from our bodies and hearts
as we crumble to dust and fertilize
apple trees that blossom fruit they consume,
and she sees me when she stares in clear pool.

Monday, September 12, 2016

Wizard On Wall Street

Wizard On Wall Street
© Surazeus
2016 09 12

I walk forever through cold city streets,
floating on gusts of wind from broken hearts
cracked open by soul-grinding wheel of time
that crushes all our ancestors to dust.

I stand alone, frail on asphalt highway
of ambitious greed for money and power,
surrounded by swarming flocks of dead souls
who howl in winter wind to snuff hot flame
of my spirit that flickers faint in blast
of arrogant ice inside my fragile skull.

"I am Wizard of Wall Street who returns
from Cave of Pluto with Secret of Life."

Trapped inside creaking shell of bone-frail flesh,
I clutch wand of wisdom I carved from oak
on mountain of dancing light, and push hard
with beating heart against cold gusting wind
that rips claws of hunger at my frail face.

I sing to silver moon behind rain clouds.
"Like Orpheus I descended to hell
and sang spells to enchant Devil of Death,
but he refused to raise my love to life.
I dance forever on Wall Street of lies
although my eye encloses ice-blue skies."

Dawn gleams gold rays through tree in city park
when I wake huddled under tattered bush
near brick wall, so I rise from cardboard box
as birds chirp in elm tree with fluttering leaves
that whisper voices of people long dead.

Sitting on wall, I strum on cracked guitar
and sing about blind princess in tall tower
as people walk past into coffee shop
and drop pennies in my hat when I bow.

Grinning through mat of tangled hair, I shout
at everyone who passes quickly by.
"What a wonderful day to be not dead.
We are all atoms observing themselves,
so we carve our memories on dead trees
and drink honey brewed from sunlight and rain."

Each car that whooshes past on busy street
transforms into robot with dreaming brain.

Sunday, September 11, 2016

Two Towers Of Justice

Two Towers Of Justice
© Surazeus
2016 09 11

At the falling of Two Towers in flame,
that burst from the eyes of the Raven King,
I carve on silent mountains my new name
so the Rose Queen teaches me how to sing.

Because I escaped from the Door of School
and blazed my own path in Forest of Tales
the Blind Princess calls me her special Fool
who measures hearts of men with balanced scales.

Before the Magician hides his true face
with the white Mask of Truth disguised as lies,
I will explain how swirling atoms trace
the dreaming Eye of God to form blue skies.

I climb the Star Pyramid of One Eye
where High Priestess gives me Scroll of Spells,
then weaves me fairy wings so I can fly
and journey home through labyrinth of wells.

On endless green steppes were buzz honey bees
the Empress rides her Lion through blue rain
till Raven King offers her White House keys
that opens door to visions in my brain.

Each man who sits as Emperor on throne
of honest justice, bearing Ankh of Life,
embodies Idea of God carved from stone
who stirs chaos to order love from strife.

In cave of visions, where flames conjure streams
of glowing iron from rock, to forge Sword
of Justice, the Hierophant who weaves dreams
measures globe of Earth with strong web of cords.

Holding hands as they kiss by Apple Tree,
Lovers conjoin two souls when seed sparks egg
to generate new soul by singing sea
since we evolve to gods from atom speck.

While three sisters of death spin wheels of fate,
I drive Chariot of Helius on wide road
through maze of city towers at high rate
of evolution to wise Man from Toad.

Though blinded by the laws of greedy men,
kind Justice, who can perceive truth through masks,
weighs balance of action to consequence
then assigns me to play constructive tasks.

I follow Hermes on the trail of truth
till Sage accepts me as Hermit of Code
and teaches me secrets of the Lost Sleuth
but leaves me to write spells on signless road.

I study how the world by physics spins,
soaring through timeless space on wings of light,
since Wheel of Fortune is bound tight by pins
that calculate process of blooming right.

Though trapped by lust in singing cave of fire,
my soul is freed by Lion Queen of Strength
who leads me to the Temple of Desire
that vibrates sweet from musical wavelength.

While hanging from the Tree of Life I dream
I fall nine days and nights from burning tower,
since I am the Hanged Man over clear stream
where I snatch letters of words to gain power.

Riding on the Pale Horse of the White Rose,
I slaughter kings and priests with flaming blade,
for Death will devour everyone who knows
meaning of life I spelled in garden glade.

Mixing water and wine on river shore,
Temperance teaches me secret of rebirth
and gives me child I fathered in her core
who conquers slavers to free all on Earth.

When Dionysus gives us wine to drink,
he chains our souls to pyramid of hate,
but we will break free when we learn to think
and chain the Devil who decides our fate.

Two airplanes, hurled by Hand of Jupiter,
shatter Two Towers with lightning strike of ruth,
but when I return home as Lucifer
I will rebuild it based on spell of truth.

Though all we loved is burned by fire of fears,
First Mother Ishtar, kneeling by Star Pool,
brings Water of Life that flows from her tears
and transforms me to Magician from Fool.

When wolves howl at the full Moon, I will rise
from River of Dreams and follow the road
between Two Towers that reach starry skies,
and scribe new spell books by the wagon load.

My son Apollo on the White Horse plays
hide and seek in the Garden of Delight
because the Sun weaves all life with warm rays
that beam virtual world in our mind with light.

No resurrection of our conscious souls
will happen after final Judgment Day,
so I write history of our changing world
in Book of Life that no man ever reads.

Our World is formed from pulsing atom whorl
that spins around the glowing eye of light,
and so I love the singing Apple Girl
who transforms my soul from spirit to wight.

The Lion Queen climbs Pyramid of Right
and reigns crowned in the spirit-swirling hall
when the Raven King deals justice with Light
long after dark hour the Two Towers fall.

Saturday, September 10, 2016

Door Of Rain

Door Of Rain
© Surazeus
2016 09 10

Though I see him vanish through Door of Rain
I dare not follow to our land of dreams
yet follow close his beating wings of pain
that lead me down road from high mountain streams.

I wish I could not be the wolf of fear
who obeys commands of the Raven King
but when I pause to gaze in the Star Mere
I see the Oak Princess with broken wing.

I turn away from cracked Mirror of Dreams
and out the window of your mundane land
I see her dancing in warm sun-gold beams
beyond steel empire I build with my hand.

After driving swift motorized machine
on asphalt highways to the ruined hall
I climb Rainbow Stairway to the Owl Queen
who appoints me guard of her Singing Wall.

I wave magic wand Merlin gave to me
to raise gods and heroes alive from books
and lead them to dance by the singing sea
while a thousand blind witches spell in rooks.

If you can find the key to Door of Rain
and climb the winding stairway to my mind,
ignoring illusions of lust and pain,
you may dream the new world view I designed.

On wings of light I soar beyond the shell
enclosing Earth inside clear crystal globe
to touch the stars, bright elemental well
that fountains atoms to construct world lobe.

I walk in Heaven of Ideal Forms
where concepts of everything that exists
persist beyond all change of timing norms
and animate life which God Soul subsists.

I dive back down to Earth on flaming wings
and wake in body of this throbbing flesh
that gives Angel life as Human who sings
embodied in brain of energized mesh.

I beam virtual multiverse with verse code
that flickers movie scenes within my brain
and quest for truth on one world-spanning road
that leads me back home through the Door of Rain.

Friday, September 9, 2016

Corn Maiden Of Our Land

Corn Maiden Of Our Land
© Surazeus
2016 09 09

Down on the river shore in evening light
that glimmers through the wind-blown leaves of trees
I see salmon and ravens dance in flight
where Onatah sings in refreshing breeze.

In dew-wet meadows where the morning sun
gleams sparkling in the eyes of every child
she sings with joy, filling baskets with corn,
sweet Onatah who charms all with her smiles.

Through willow trees that sway in swirling breath
she sings an ancient spell that water is life,
then gives me turtle shell she won from death,
graceful Onatah who will be my wife.

I kneel and offer her large bag of seeds,
and show the hall I built where she may dwell,
so she gives me new necklace of bright beads,
gentle Onatah of the river dell.

She reaches out her hand to touch my face
and then we kiss to seal our hearts with love
while sweet girls dance in rings and wild boys race,
wise Onatah who shines in stars above.

Down on the river shore in gold moonlight
we dance around the marriage fire of hope
while singers chant old tales of wrong and right,
then Onatah binds our two hearts with rope.

I hold her in my arms while stars shine bright
and gaze into her eyes that beam the world
when bullet pierces her heart and she falls,
shocked Onatah bleeding in my numb arms.

The fire of life that glitters in her eyes
burns out in gloom of horror and despair
and then I stumble in the burning haze,
bearing Onatah from the blazing fight.

Down on the river shore in bleeding dawn,
after the horsemen burned our thriving town,
I bury my love in the field of corn,
lost Onatah sleeping in their white roots.

In the whisper of wind I hear her voice,
in the golden corn I taste her sweet smile,
in the river I see her ghost still play,
good Onatah, corn maiden of our land.

Thursday, September 8, 2016

My Apple Eyes

My Apple Eyes
© Surazeus
2016 09 08

Far over the deep sparkling sea of stars
I sail the boat I craft from singing trees,
following the dancing lights of midnight
to find the garden where apple trees grow.

Around my waist I wear the golden belt
my mother Hippolyte forged from gloom
and in my hand I bear the oaken staff
my father carved from mother tree of songs.

I dance on water over surging waves
and walk lush hills where flowers dance in wind
on nameless island hid in silver mist
to climb steep mountain slope of laughing bones.

On top the highest peak where rainbow gleams
through sparkling drops of rain I see the tree
of ten thousand branches heavy with fruit
that shimmers golden in eternal light.

I reach my hand to pluck the fruit of light
that sweetens rain inside its golden orb
when hissing serpent flutters rainbow wings
and strikes to bite my hand with poisoned teeth.

I snatch its neck and stare into its eyes,
black as cold starless night when lightning strikes,
and feel its lashing tail grip tight my arm
as flashing teeth of fear glitter with death.

"My father sang to me before he died,
only one god rules all things in this world,
and She is Death who gives and takes our lives,
but today I live, guided by her love."

I grip the dagger forged in cave of flames
and slice its throat, then drink its sizzling blood,
and feel the ancient spirit of elan
slither through my veins with flames of desire.

I kneel by mere in vale of broken rocks
and see my father gazing back at me
with eyes bright gold as sun in silver haze
to feel my heart beat wild as ocean waves.

I stand on mountain peak in swirling wind
and howl at thunder storm that strikes white light
then laugh, devouring apples of the snake,
and reach my hand to grasp the flash of truth.

"My name is Okeanos," I shout loud,
and all my words in swirling wind expand
till I become the thunder and the rain
and gesture of my hand sparks lightning flash.

"I am the king of nothing till I rule
the size and shape of everything I feel,
thus I will measure how the river flows
so I may drink the soul of mountain rock."

I scatter seeds of apples in the dirt
and watch their saplings sprout in pouring rain,
and kiss white blossoms blooming in sunlight,
and sleep in the arms of my apple tree.

My body melts into the soggy soil,
my bones become its dark-devouring roots,
my brain becomes its trunk, my blood its sap,
and now I watch you with my apple eyes.

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

All Their Names

All Their Names
© Surazeus
2016 09 07

I want to write all their names on the sand,
every creature ever born on this world
who opened eyes and gazed up at strange sky
where clouds and stars dance in the swirling wind.

I want to write all their names on the sand,
every creature who woke at gleaming dawn
and sang the vision of their hope for love
as they explored cold rivers and high hills.

I want to write all their names on the sand,
every creature who wondered at the sun
and climbed wild trees to pluck sweet juicy fruit
then feasted as they held their lover close.

I want to write all their names on the sand,
every creature who felt the spinning world
spiral through the vast abyss of bright dreams
before they lay down and returned to sand.

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Abyss Of Empty Words

Abyss Of Empty Words
© Surazeus
2016 09 06

With every flash of starlight through cracked glass
of perpetual plight, when angel of angst
blasts broken blocks of walls blind children built,
we leap through tattered veil of lucent haze
to follow dancing will-o-the-wisp of truth
back from awesome abyss of empty words.

We surf on undulating theory, far
beyond false world view everyone accepts,
through luminous structure of numbered faith,
disrobing doctrines of contempt for love,
to stand on one-eyed pyramid of power
after swimming abyss of empty words.

Along winding yellow brick road at dawn
I walk past blue glass doors of private banks
which fail to reflect face I painted clear
and find no court where troubadours and knights
sing praise to Eleanor of Aquitaine
whose boat I sail abyss of empty words.

I find divine beast slouching at midnight
past ruined temple of Jerusalem
to verdant hills of unnamed Oregon,
and harness tight its rainbow-leaping might
to fly three times around our spinning world,
reborn wise from abyss of empty words.

Though all the cities of our nation burn
in flames of civil war, destroyed by strife
of greed for fruit trees poisoned by foul mist
of sweet insecticide, our Lion Queen
will ride white unicorn of justice swift
on jet wings from abyss of empty words.

When we gaze deep in mirror of desire,
that spirals tight from Fibonacci Code,
we might see faces of gods we invent
that hang in ancient gallery of roles,
so should I play Jesus or Hamlet now,
chanting spells through abyss of empty words?

Cast out from heaven because I refuse
to bend knee of submission to contempt,
I dive nine days and nights on burning wings
and smash shining towers of steel and glass,
then build new temple of heroes who chase
atoms that weave abyss of empty words.

When spells of Nostradamus echo deep
through labyrinth of lies to melt gold gate
of private paradise, I stand before
Tree of Life and consume fruit of its wisdom
to comprehend process of history
with soul forged in abyss of empty words.

Monday, September 5, 2016

Changeless Roles Of Love

Changeless Roles Of Love
© Surazeus
2016 09 05

While sitting on old wood swing by the lake,
where turtles float like clouds in vast blue sky,
I feel all surging play of human action,
which spirals history in changing floods,
settle into timeless meadow of truth
that living creatures will die in time
and fertilize fields once wasted by war
where new generations sprout from our lust.

Tall tree that leans over shining green lake
cares nothing about genealogy
nor wealthy success in business or arts,
sprouting fruit rather than striving for prize
won in glory of fight for fleeting fame,
so I stand like tree and stare in deep mere
of silver light that reflects back my face
crowned by stars of my song on quest for truth.

While wandering signless road in forlorn woods,
I find in grotto by the roaring sea
mute ghosts of gods fallen from ancient faiths,
Saturn, Zeus, Jove, Apollo, Lucifer,
Yahweh, Jesus, Krishna, Allah, and God,
lamenting as they stare blind in the pool,
where I see my own face beside all theirs,
that their sons and daughters forgot their names.

When I return home, stepping through Time Door,
I see my children laughing as they play
stories of ancestors lost in their dreams,
and reflected in mirror of their eyes
I see new generation of old gods
gazing with new-born joy at ancient world
that spirals round again on wheel of change
to replay changeless roles of love and death.

Thursday, September 1, 2016

Entire Earth Awakes

Entire Earth Awakes
© Surazeus
2016 09 01

Since I can read the secrets of dead angels
written in the tangled branches of trees,
where birds who can read my mind weave words
of shining wires across the winter sky,
I take out both my eyes of frozen tears
and give them to you so you can read code
of dancing hieroglyphs on ancient scrolls
and write the epic tale no one will read.

Without a map or glasses, forged by fire
of sacred altars in Mithraeum gloom,
I wander ancient palaces of doors
that open on ten thousand secret worlds
enclosed in walls of ancient human towns
whose names and histories of deeds were lost
and never written in the Book of Life
on fruitless quest to discover your garden.

I recruited every lost boy I found
wandering without goal in woods full of ghosts
and trained them to twirl scepter wand of wisdom
in swift elegant dance of martial arts
to protect women and children from harm,
and so we built frail castle on high hill
where last Star Angel in tall tower sings
spells that design new meaning for vain lives.

We shatter the crystal shells of starlight
that long surrounded thick unmoving world,
and discover that our life-giving sun
is sphere of flaming gas that spins through space
at twelve miles each second in vast ellipse
around spiraling galaxy of stars
in time-flashing race toward oblivion,
so we dance and sing on hill of white stars.

Wearing white gown that flashes countless stars,
she looms over me in dark tower room
and sings ancient spells of pure river song
which I translate into small tree-shaped Runes
to photograph old vision of her eyes,
and then she casts tablets of songs I carved
in flames that transform our words into light
which you hear whisper from wind in tree leaves.

The number eight spirals around itself
on endless looping wings of natural love
which cycles through four seasons of rebirth
like two eyes that sprout bright from dreaming brains
when atoms pulsing conscious energy
are woven in neural networks of thoughts
to generate virtual world in our heads
so we dream one infinite multiverse.

If you can read and understand this code
go stand outside beneath the shining stars
and realize with bemused love for truth
no consciousness glimmers outside our skulls,
for atoms pulsing in web of our mind
invents model of universe it perceives
and designs word spells to communicate
with minds of others born from one First Mother.

I wonder if the world wide web of wires
linking a billion computer terminals
is primitive nervous system of brains
that will evolve into one conscious brain,
huge crystal sphere enclosed in superdome
which will store all our photographs as dreams,
and ages hence remember us with love
when the entire Earth wakes, alone in space.