Nothingness Of The Universe

Nothingness Of The Universe
© Surazeus
2026 01 26

Brilliant nothingness of the universe 
fills my heart with swirling rivers of joy 
for I have heard soul of the water sing 
four hundred million years of turning time 
in melodies that vibrate through my mind 
so all my cells ring with pure cosmic chime. 

Aching nothingness of the frozen hour 
traps my dreaming mind in form of my body 
so I breathe deep celestial thoughts of light 
to sing in harmony with flashing stars 
that weave my soul in tapestry of time 
which signifies my being with secret name. 

Urgent nothingness of my daily task 
rewinds my memories into ringing phones 
so I call everyone alive on Earth 
to ask if they remember timeless hour 
when our common First Mother woke from dream 
and sang first wordless song of human hope. 

Fertile nothingness of wide rain-soaked fields 
provides encouragement of sacred code 
which cows express in wisdom of fresh grass 
so I play flute of soft mercurial wail 
that wakes eight billion souls from water dream 
with passion to attend World Festival. 

Patient nothingness of hand-fashioned crafts 
supports productive factories of faith 
so we construct new civil infrastructure 
from shattered ruins of our old world view 
designed by cosmic Architect of Truth 
who loves that we express true happiness. 

Sterile nothingness of religious faith 
deceives my heart with desperate belief 
that my body will resurrect from death 
if I believe some honest tribal king 
who died two thousand years ago loves me, 
so I love everyone before I die. 

Coded nothingness of cultural myths 
provides moral guide for how I perform 
special role I compose from social tropes 
when I play Tiresias in World War Three 
as prophet of the Ungod no one sees 
to lead faceless ghosts to the Promised Land. 

Psychic nothingness of our empire state 
frames national events with shards of truth 
which I assemble as puzzle of facts 
in global epic tale of noble deeds 
when Jesus defeats Satan once again 
so everyone lives together in peace. 

Ride Carousel Of Fate

Ride Carousel Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 01 25

If the sky is doorway to everywhere, 
opened wide by joy of my aching heart, 
then I will soar into immensity 
with awe at breathless beauty of all light 
which I perceive with mind-expanding scope 
of conscious passion for honest respect. 

If owl of my heart, perched on broken branch 
of faith in cosmic energy of love, 
stirs ancient wings of silent urgency, 
then I will find pure egg of soul rebirth 
gleaming with crystal eyes inside my brain 
as psychic battery charged with solemn words. 

If holy cow of spirit-fueling milk 
arrives at dawn across the misty field, 
pulling wagon of bricks baked in the sun, 
then I will build new temple for our god 
who holds the spotted dragon egg of faith 
with tender care of time-unspooling hope. 

If opal gleaming on the signless road, 
containing eyes of every long-dead god, 
radiates pure wisdom of eccentric books, 
then I will dig sacred river canal 
so we can irrigate vast fields of wheat 
that forms foundation of our empire state. 

If angels guard our bodies while we vote 
for who will rule our disorganized state 
with random laws he thinks of in the bath, 
then I will count how many apple seeds 
lie scattered on the marble temple floor 
where turtles analyze profits through loss. 

If blind children ride carousel of fate 
with sly plan to paint frescoes on church walls 
depicting deaths of saints in accidents, 
then I will travel toward the holy land 
through flashing portal of argentine light 
to find divine doctor who heals all wounds. 

If my grandfather flies airplane of faith 
low over rippling lake of secret snakes 
who sing psalms in heavenly choir of ghosts, 
then I will map every telephone pole 
that connects our brains as the world wide web 
in global marketplace of false ideas. 

If I keep walking in circles of truths 
in frantic chase for the most scathing joke 
that exposes weakness of tyranny, 
then I will carve runes on the rock of ages 
cleft wide by earnest zeal of loyalists 
so we can ride the carousel of fate. 

Tears Of Sad Mermaids

Tears Of Sad Mermaids
© Surazeus
2026 01 25

To find pure pearls from tears of sad Mermaids 
I dive deep in dark sea of swirling fears 
with pure celestial breath of cautious faith 
where I face hungry demons of despair 
in noble fight to safe humanity 
from monsters lurking in gloom of our hearts. 

I perform these actions in long day dreams 
while sitting at desk in small cubicle 
as one among many soul programmers 
typing magic runes on keyboards of truth 
to code whole history of humanity 
in tales that chronicle our fight for Life. 

Though bitter winds of winter blast bleak streets 
with grim indifference Nature shows Mankind, 
millions of people demonstrate with signs 
proclaiming principle dear to our hearts 
that every person breathing air of life 
has equal right to liberty and justice. 

These bromides, that sustained our hearts for years 
through centuries of soul awakenings 
and wars for freedom against slavery, 
taste bitter now that our once noble state 
teeters on shaken foundations of faith 
at long-expected rise of tyranny. 

Even this grand republic of free will, 
which our fathers built with brave sacrifice, 
crumbles now from rotten bureaucracy 
asserted by aggressive gangs of thieves 
disguised as masters of the money game 
who seek to enslave us with credit debt. 

Immortal spirit of the cruel dictator, 
that possesses greedy men everywhere, 
emerges in White House with bloody hands, 
emboldened by fear millions of men feel 
which Voldemort channels with magic wand 
carved from Spear of Longinus into guns. 

Yet when dictators of Satan appear 
to manipulate minds of angry men 
with hate to exploit people to gain wealth, 
our brave messiah sleuth, with honest heart 
honed by suffering, appears from our minds 
to lead freedom fighters with flag of truth. 

Minerva stands on pyramid of bones, 
bold one-eyed watcher keeping our world safe, 
to catch pure pearls as tears of sad Mermaids 
that nurture our courage to fight for Life, 
preserving state of world democracy 
which blossoms as Tree of Life from our hearts. 

Time To Wake As The Earth

Time To Wake As The Earth
© Surazeus
2026 01 25

Time to round the building corner of fate 
and ask the blind man in swan-feather cape 
how children are reborn from sticks and stones 
based on fake legends in old leather tomes 
stolen from libraries by bitter trolls 
who cannot find humans without weird souls. 

Time to ride the rocket ship beyond fate 
in dream trip captured on celluloid tape 
long before angels had all left the Earth 
to animate concept of the light word 
tangled with emotions of gods in rooms 
who play tragic lovers to jolly tunes. 

Time to escape glass labyrinth of homes 
constructed from code of dinosaur bones 
despite commitment to holy crusade 
contrived by bankers to monetize faith 
because mad jester crowns himself world king, 
proposing marriage to the skating rink. 

Diana drives red Volkswagen at dawn 
in splatter of rain from the Bible psalm 
on crowded highway in large Texas town 
with her son destined to play prophet clown, 
who thinks about his bike with demon wings 
despite how often the telephone rings. 

Time to prove bent-space formula correct 
by dream wizards from the Adventist sect 
who worship sorcerer of butterflies 
to calculate thought-twist of the next phase 
we humans must dream-travel to evolve 
with romantic tension lovers resolve. 

Time to play honest game of chess with Death 
in effort to translate what the tree says 
about proper etiquette on the wood path 
where we wrestle shadow of the pop quiz 
before we build our house upon the sand 
this shifts word dunes to redesign the land. 

Time to grow up and become the adult 
who sells secret prophecies of the cult 
about Tzatziki-flavored kettle chips 
that Jesus and Achilles share on trips 
to explore landscape of Greenland with hope 
humans will soon find peaceful ways to cope. 

Dionysus searches for quiet spot 
away from distraction of money games, 
and listens to breath of planes among clouds 
when obligations bluster past in wind, 
knowing we decay as Self vanishes 
at death just in time to wake as the Earth. 

Super Beauty Of Wild Hearts

Super Beauty Of Wild Hearts
© Surazeus
2026 01 25

Far beyond super beauty of wild hearts, 
faceless ghost in slime-clean gray business suit 
withdraws money earned torturing mute books 
from the automated teller machine, 
and buys hamburger and fries for his lunch 
before returning to work in the bank. 

Yet laughing turtle in the pink tutu 
dances gracefully on the iced mailbox 
while clowns in red and yellow uniforms 
beat people on the head with rubber bats 
which transform into tinsel butterflies 
that eat silver handcuffs off hands of kids. 

Trapped in voiceless midnight of the glass church, 
photocopied letters on wings of swans 
arrive from Gobi desert in blue eggs 
laid by famished horses in can of words 
that wriggle into shape of wet clay dolls 
who give each other flaming guns as gifts. 

King Lear mistakes the rusty can of words 
for slab of roasted beef as credit card 
he thrusts in hourglass of unspooling fate 
in vain attempt to purchased rugged cross 
designed by blind woman with thirty arms 
who sketches faces of children on doors. 

Pretension to awakeness of the lamp 
contrives new secret room of breathing walls 
where millions of people without cell phones 
bypass memories of traumatic events 
by laughing as they swing in the playground 
enclosed in glass dome on the misty moon. 

Yet Ariadne tugs at broken thread 
tangled in maze of quaint alleyway stores 
to conduct memory trace with images 
encoding characters from ancient myths 
which always leads to Sunday morning church 
where shadows of gods reverberate masks. 

Kwan Yin reveals in jar of honey wine 
shadow following shadow of my brain 
as echo responding to sound of words 
unspoken by shy lovers who grow old 
together in house of the rising sun 
where angel eyes are hammered in our masks. 

At moonrise youngest woman in the world 
drops eyes in glass of water to recall 
how wings of ravens hide wild ocean tide 
since color of milk reveals beating hearts 
we drink to celebrate when empires fall 
now based on super beauty of wild hearts. 

When God Wakes From Dream

When God Wakes From Dream
© Surazeus
2026 01 25

Aware of wind and water in bright air, 
Mike holds brass astrolabe in his left hand 
made by Jamal al-Din ibin Muquin 
three hundred sixty years ago from light 
of stars that weave our bodies into souls 
so he can see where he exists on Earth. 

If absence of quantity represents 
null value symbolized by great round eye 
enclosing all that exists in one mind, 
Mike feels diameter of nothingness 
beam out from zero as circle of light 
through first flash from which all atoms form shapes. 

Placing warm hand on his shoulder with care, 
Aryabhata explains in simple terms 
relativity of motion to note 
how we perceive while in the moving boat 
still objects on shore move backward from us, 
like stationary stars appear to move. 

Bright sun who seems to watch us humans live 
with silent glow of indifferent respect, 
radiates from center of eight swirling globes 
as we rotate through empty void of time 
with undulating hum of psychic love 
which generates our bodies from raindrops. 

Heating metal of meteor that fell 
in streak of fire from high Realm of Ideas, 
Mike forges sword of honest self-defense, 
then patrols river shore by fishing town 
to fight sharp-toothed monster with golden eyes, 
then hangs slain crocodile on rugged cross. 

Bending steamed wood in circle propped with spokes, 
Mike builds sun-round wheel for wagon of fate 
which Helios invented to support 
platform pulled by horses to transport goods 
from farm fields to market stalls on wide roads, 
which forms foundation of great empires. 

Aware of his body composed with light 
from atoms flashing bright since dawn of time, 
Mike invents symbols encoded in words 
to signify perceptions of his mind 
which designs grand ontology of truth 
defining cosmology of dream worlds. 

Expressed by character of conscious sight, 
our new global world view of what is real 
blooms from brain of the genius seer who sings 
riddles that explain how things operate 
as atoms swerving willfully to weave 
neural nets of love when God wakes from dream. 

Treasure Chest Of Dreams

Treasure Chest Of Dreams
© Surazeus
2026 01 25

After I ransack treasure chest of dreams, 
hidden by Pandora beneath her bed, 
I might find ghosts of noble characters, 
long worshiped as gods by long-vanished states, 
struggling to express their stale points of view, 
so I set their skulls on book shelves to sing. 

Yet after I let all those ghosts escape 
to haunt snow-frosted homes with Christmas trees, 
I find Pandora by the kitchen sink 
peeling potatoes, and hard-boiling eggs, 
to cook delicious meal that warms my heart, 
grateful I freed her from bitter regret. 

After eating chicken and gravy dish, 
that warms my heart with dreams of noble deeds, 
I wander woods along the sparkling stream 
where daisies bloom, and lithe goldfinches tweet, 
as I follow haunting song of desire 
which Pandora sings with uncanny joy. 

Wearing long white gown with thick leather belt, 
and coronet of flowers in her hair, 
Pandora kneels in sunlit meadow grove 
with hands caressing cheeks of spotted fawn 
that gazes up at her with moon-black eyes 
while she whispers and kisses his forehead. 

Climbing ancient apple tree on high hill 
where sharp-eyed hawk watches me with calm grace, 
I reach my hand to pluck ripe fruit of love 
but Nirah, serpent with star-flashing eyes, 
hisses at me with aggressive umbrage, 
so I breathe ethereal hope of respect. 

"Before you take sacred apple of truth," 
lithe Nirah hisses with celestial voice, 
"you must answer this riddle with brave poise 
by telling me secret name of the house 
where you enter blind, but exit with sight 
that lets you see inner essence of being." 

Entranced by reverie of my childhood, 
when I sat all day at the classroom desk 
learning to write letters that signify 
sounds depicting objects, actions, and states, 
I reply, "the house where I learned dream-sight 
is called the school where humans see the truth." 

Sitting with Pandora by the oak tree 
among daisies along the river shore, 
I give her basket of apples with love, 
so princess of the city-haunting ghost 
kisses my lips with passionate respect, 
then laughs as we eat and share tales of life. 

Time Of Startled Dreamers

Time Of Startled Dreamers
© Surazeus
2026 01 24

Assembled in vast city of dark ice, 
we demonstrate against cruel tyranny 
and call for equal rights for every soul 
who works with faith in our community 
to create instead of destroy with hope 
in our time of startled dreamers from Heaven. 

Masked agents of cruel tyrant in the tower 
assault our neighbors with aggressive hate 
and drag them trembling in the bitter cold 
so we bring bread from hearth of liberty 
and bandages to heal their broken hearts 
in our time of startled dreamers from Heaven. 

Resurrected from television tombs 
with bodies composed of engines and glass, 
we challenge bullies of the fascist king 
with recording cameras instead of guns 
to chronicle abuse of human rights 
in our time of startled dreamers from Heaven. 

Untethered from ideal concept of freedom 
where every person lives based on free will, 
our bodies buzz with anguish of contempt, 
shrouded by brilliant glare of tyranny 
that blinds our eyes to paradise we lost 
in our time of startled dreamers from Heaven. 

Scattered in the waste land of lost ideals 
when our noble world view of social progress 
collapses into civil war from greed, 
we find each other in the ring of stones 
where we conspire to restore liberty 
in our time of startled dreamers from Heaven. 

Demonic laughter of dark winter storm, 
congealed from spirit smoke of bitter rage, 
looms over frosted land in purple surge 
that breaks the silver heart of noble warriors 
who struggle through thorny bushes of ghosts 
in our time of startled dreamers from Heaven. 

Suffocated by eyeless shade of faith 
that howls at bleeding gate of paradise, 
brave people of America assert 
civil rights to assemble and speak truth 
with trumpet voices that break down walls 
in our time of startled dreamers from Heaven. 

Black metal skies full of hunger-crazed crows 
mourn over city streets of demonstrators 
in thick polluted clouds of mocking angst 
till one voice of our many hearts radiates 
with luminescent beauty of bold faith 
in our time of startled dreamers from Heaven. 

Pregnant With Forgotten Dreams

Pregnant With Forgotten Dreams
© Surazeus
2026 01 24

Cloaked in white sheet of ghostly attitude, 
Ardith pretends to be the summer cloud 
that floats benignly over rolling hills, 
pregnant with forgotten dreams of lost souls 
who would inhabit idols of dead gods, 
then gives everyone slice of honeyed bread. 

Deemed unfit for proud royal company, 
Ardith wears mask of the black albatross 
at parties in the London Underground, 
pregnant with forgotten dreams of sad clowns 
who wear gray suits of strict accountancy 
as pirates of the global empire game. 

Amazed by strangeness of the multiverse, 
Ardith rides white horse on the carousel 
to leap timelines through variants of our world, 
pregnant with forgotten dreams of mad seers 
who navigate political constraints 
to ensure victory of democracy. 

Amused by images of her false face 
reflected on mirror masks people wear, 
Ardith hosts party in the stately hall, 
pregnant with forgotten dreams of gardeners 
who transform wilderness of shadowed woods 
to Garden of Eden where Josh plays god. 

Startled by his shy confession of love, 
Ardith stares at Josh with skeptical eyes 
to understand true nature of his being, 
pregnant with forgotten dreams of mechanics 
who fix piston engines of cars and planes 
which are time machines that only move forward. 

Ignored by haughty elite of fine art, 
Ardith poses nude in art gallery 
to hide weird genius of analysis, 
pregnant with forgotten dreams of blind painters 
who recreate ontology of truth 
vital to zeitgeist of our new world order. 

Astonished by wiles of Odysseus, 
Ardith weaves tapestry of world events 
that chronicle our second civil war, 
pregnant with forgotten dreams of scared soldiers 
who weep when her brother Bob sings grim hymns 
about the second coming of Perun. 

Crowned our new World Goddess of Liberty, 
Ardith rides chariot of fire with four angels, 
pulled by six white horses of innocence, 
pregnant with forgotten dreams of brave mothers 
who teach children how to fight tyranny 
as comrades in State of Zarathia. 

Know How Apples Grow

Know How Apples Grow
© Surazeus
2026 01 24

These woods are mine because I am here now, 
declares the wingless angel to the oak, 
then looks for devil dancing in the dark 
whose gold hair glows bright as the morning sun 
because her green eyes know how apples grow 
from stones to serpents with long rainbow wings. 

Concealed in honeysuckle bush of fear, 
the wingless angel watches bullets soar 
beyond the destined point of history 
where singing devil with three thousand eyes 
gives melons to lost strangers on the road 
because she knows the irony of loss. 

Each wood boat floating on the river waves, 
that flows from snow-white mountains to the sea, 
requires our bodies understand how time 
adjusts conceptual progress beyond death 
since all organic creatures dissipate 
to flashing atoms of attentive stars. 

If time is thinner than pages in books 
where stories of romantic partnerships 
record the tragic comedies of love, 
the singing devil might remember how 
her body glows from first kiss of her fate 
when she meets wingless angel by the lake. 

In chasm breaking hearts that lovers bridge 
words congeal frantic feelings into thoughts 
with ardent heaviness of lonely hearts 
so they bend undulating arc of time 
with kiss that folds enormous galaxies 
in tender vows exchanged to bind clear eyes. 

No anger billows at imminent death, 
retrieved through blunt refusal to concede, 
when weeping devil with long curly hair 
decides she will be strong in spite of pain 
by breathing deep celestial energy 
that fuels courage to endure suffering. 

Perfume of fresh-turned Earth intoxicates 
souls of wild children born from seeds of corn 
who bring baskets of vegetables at dawn 
to wingless angel and his devil bride 
who sweetly kiss by the blackberry patch 
while cows discuss philosophy of love. 

When spirit of the sky comes down to Earth 
and fills our bodies with fierce urgency 
to dance and sing beyond the end of time, 
the wingless angel and his devil bride 
call refugees of war to gather safe 
in walls of haven no tyrant can crack. 

One Sun-Sourced Tear

One Sun-Sourced Tear
© Surazeus
2026 01 24

Eyes swirling far beyond eternity, 
Sofia stands alone in crowded hall 
in world museum of the weeping mother 
before painting of mountains by the sea 
and feels Aurora Northern Lights transform 
her mortal body into divine wraith. 

One sun-sourced tear, infused with ancient light, 
sparked by first flash at beginning of time, 
slides down her cheek with sparkle of insight, 
reflecting countless spirits of pure chime, 
that gleams with journey thirteen billion years 
as egg preserving dreams of endless years. 

One drop of water gleaming in her brain 
preserves the dreams of progress fueled by hope 
from every organic creature of flesh 
through whom it flows as binding thread of light 
as we evolve four hundred million years 
to weave our bodies in serpentine web. 

Our bodies merge with bodies of our lovers 
when parents generate children through love, 
embraced with passion by the river shore, 
so we transform through endless soul rebirth, 
programmed by immortal soul of our genes 
to search for fruit tree of the holy land. 

Heart pulsing with assertion of desire, 
expressed by globe of atoms flashing bright 
as we spin slowly in void of strange stars, 
Sofia turns from painting of her world 
to see me standing in scope of her faith 
so light of joy bursts from her clouded eyes. 

Approaching me across vast plain of fear, 
with slow attention of cautious desire, 
Sofia smiles and reaches out her hand, 
palm open to receive gift of my heart, 
so I accept brave spirit of her trust 
to shelter in warm haven of my love. 

Hands clasped with calm companionship of trust, 
we stroll together winding road of life 
across bare waste land of eager respect 
to build Garden of Eden from our love 
that flourishes in lush Elysium 
where children of our love sprout into souls. 

Expanding conscious scope of our two minds, 
we circumscribe all possible outcomes 
by narrowing path of productive fate 
we choose to create from star energy 
so water of our souls nourish the world 
that preserve our dreams in tears you will shed. 

Bridge Of Social Happiness

Bridge Of Social Happiness
© Surazeus
2026 01 23

My heart escapes cage of my fleshly frame 
to soar above vast maze of ancient myths 
about brave warriors and honest kings 
so I can play wood lyre of Mercury 
and praise their noble deeds in epic tales 
when I cross Bridge of Social Happiness. 

To highlight quest for truth as role to play 
through tales of people who achieve great things, 
I travel far across waste land of hope 
in journey on the signless road of faith, 
yet stumble into innocent success 
when I cross Bridge of Social Happiness. 

Each mask I wear from ancient gallery 
of tragic characters inscribed in myth 
exposes me to new experiences 
that broaden scope of mental consciousness 
so I become aware of human fate 
when I cross Bridge of Social Happiness. 

Consigned to live one tale of bumbling ploy 
by quick temporal state of chemical being, 
I blindly follow instinct of my heart 
to do whatever seems the best each hour 
I grope through global maze of frantic hope 
when I cross Bridge of Social Happiness. 

Now paused in old age on far side of fate 
beneath the shining moon in misty woods 
where old Narcissus stares back up at me, 
I narrate random events of my life 
through structured frame of the holy grail quest 
when I cross Bridge of Social Happiness. 

Each choice I made from gut instinct of faith 
at crucial moments at crossroads of change 
led me to secret haven of my heart 
where I dwell with precious children and wife 
on stage of fate I design with my will 
when I cross Bridge of Social Happiness. 

Still safe from price-demanding curse of fame 
as prophet commissioned by World Ungod 
with Code of Cassandra to program change, 
I compose riddle satires that expose 
how Midas will destroy America 
when I cross Bridge of Social Happiness. 

Awake from swirl of historical change 
when cruel Satan appears again on Earth 
to destroy social system based on greed, 
I join justice squad that Minerva leads 
to build world nation of Zarathia 
when I cross Bridge of Social Happiness. 

Speak With Brave Voice

Speak With Brave Voice
© Surazeus
2026 01 23

Honest arrogance of the special fool 
fools everyone to think they are more wise 
than brave horse that leaps barbed-wire fence at dawn 
to race swift train of new technology 
where artificial intelligence dreams 
electric cows that give conceptual milk. 

I would rather consume chocolate bars 
after I encounter ghouls of despair 
that suck all happiness from my sponge brain 
soaked with divine oil of transcendent truths 
that children buy at the penny arcade 
where King Chuckles wears plastic crown of power. 

Turning away from modernist despair 
to avoid snark of juvenile satire, 
I seek strange beauty of the mountain lake 
that shimmers bright as Mirror of God Mind 
which reflects how humans perceive themselves 
as wingless angels on heavenly Earth. 

When cursing agents of the government, 
who break open doors of our private homes 
without warrant that proves committed crimes, 
I overhear myself speak with brave voice 
of Jesus when he drove from temple hall 
money-changers who cheat people with scams. 

Now I would rather sing Horatian odes 
praising athletes at the Olympic Games 
where humans test endurance with lithe skill 
in harmony with slippery ice of change 
as we evolve beyond our present state 
to overcome our weaknesses with verve. 

How gracefully she swirls on gleaming ice 
with calm elegance of the broad-winged swan 
while her brother, who wears black suit of fear 
and mask that covers his face, grips huge gun 
to arrest people on their way to work 
and locks them in vast prison camp of greed. 

Transforming from republic to empire, 
like Rome during civil wars for control 
between gangs of thieves who claim heritage 
of Hercules the Mighty Conqueror, 
America strives to fulfill oracle 
which Onatah proclaimed in field of corn. 

When brutal ice storm freezes Dixieland 
under black boots of Jack Frost and his gang, 
Minerva will rise from woods of the south 
to wave our blood-stained flag of Liberty 
while Apollo plays electric guitar 
in holy war to save democracy. 

Choices Calculate Our Fate

Choices Calculate Our Fate
© Surazeus
2026 01 22

I hear wild angel in old apple tree 
holler about how she likes to live free, 
but walks to town with the alphabet gun 
and shoots proud man who thinks he owns the sun, 
then twirls around with bliss on twinkle toes 
even after the nuclear winter snows. 

She switches personalities each day 
to match weird purpose of her social play 
leading revolution of honest folk 
in national program to become more woke 
through global consciousness of liberty 
which eradicates hate and poverty. 

When Queen Victoria ruled her world empire 
her prophets wrote epics that would inspire 
her people to expand enlightened rule 
through social progress of empiric tool 
advancing science through heroic deeds 
performed by honest clerks fulfilling needs. 

We work for ascendance of Onatah 
who will return to rule America 
through social system like Utopia 
that we rebuild and name Zarathia 
as free republic, not cruel police state, 
because our choices calculate our fate. 

I see her God Star shining in the East 
when she leads us to fight demonic beast 
who reigns as tyrant in tower of greed 
till we defeat him with the apple seed 
that sprouts as orchards in vast parking lots 
and blooms from aggressive empire that rots. 

Wise mortal woman with attentive heart, 
whose fate she navigates with world dream chart, 
will die into narrative of her myth 
when she rules from ziggurat monolith 
as goddess who unites the world with truth 
through world view designed by messiah sleuth. 

When I am sad and lonely on the street 
after busking all day on faith-sore feet, 
Minerva arrives in gown of black silk 
and gives me bowl of chocolate cake and milk, 
so I know, though the old world order falls, 
Nature sings forever through waterfalls. 

Wild angel singing in new apple tree 
teaches humanity how to live free 
so we do what we will, if we harm none, 
because every soul glows in the same sun 
when we form United Nations of Earth 
where every person may express their worth. 

Corpse Of Your Dead God

Corpse Of Your Dead God
© Surazeus
2026 01 22

When I am finished eating all the stars 
after running through valley of the dead, 
I will carry huge corpse of your dead god 
on my back to open love-broken doors, 
then suavely stroll across the writhing bridge 
till I arrive at the ultimate edge. 

Sufficient compensation as reward 
for cleaning rotten garbage from the church 
will never resupply my bank account 
while butchered cow of god hangs from the cord 
on which depends joke of the destitute 
with aggressive faith for the absolute. 

When I grow youthful with the turning globe 
that spirals over pyramid of fruit 
I play cowled role of the scythe-swinging ghost 
who beckons you to join judgmental probe, 
qualified by blind devil of the lake 
to advocate for the fruit-stealing snake. 

Though jauntily unbowed by social crash 
our old world order suffers this strange hour, 
I seek the star-eyed Sibyl in Dream Tower 
to learn calculus of puzzling potash 
which fertilizes fields of theology 
through prophecies based on psychology. 

With constellated powers of the brain 
I trick aggressive tyrants of empires 
to fund operations of psychic choirs 
through preposterous scam of cloistered coins 
exchanged by proud ghosts of the stock exchange 
who read auguries of the crumbling range. 

We sell our failures to the sports goods store 
with brave ambition of scared puppeteers 
who hang enemy skulls on chandeliers 
despite bad dreams that shake our mental core 
before we take tea on long afternoons 
to avoid explosions of graveyard moons. 

We plant trees we never sit under now 
to construct kites from insecurities 
because no one gives up their liberties 
till Jesus returns on the holy cow 
which never happens, even to this day, 
since none escape catatonic decay. 

Through attentive parlay of energy 
we present our bodies as tragic art 
by understanding how we got our start 
evolving fish to god with panurgy 
so we can build new order of the world 
based on dream design of the cosmic herald. 

Troubled Guest Of Time

Troubled Guest Of Time
© Surazeus
2026 01 21

The silent candle burning in the night 
illuminates strange feelings in my heart 
about how moonlight glimmers in the pool 
where happy demons of my ancient heart 
lurk in cruel darkness of obsessive love 
which gives me wings to fly toward ancient stars. 

Insane for perfect light of jagged cliffs 
which beams my soul into the butterfly, 
I keep imagining how I may die 
so I can grow beyond my clumsy fear 
for I am but the troubled guest of time 
who wanders nowhere on the roadless Earth. 

Though I want to tell each person I meet 
about the holy longing of my heart 
to understand strange burning of my flesh, 
I keep my words of frantic eagerness 
concealed in silent book of puzzling code 
that floats unread on surface of the pool. 

Caught in obsession with electric gloom 
that wraps my naked soul of aching hope 
in bitter glamor of eternal faith, 
I try to be the carefree butterfly 
that flutters fragile wings of honesty, 
but I remain as sturdy as the stone. 

Untroubled by excessive agony 
that every conscious creature wrestles with 
through endless suffering of our tender flesh, 
I strip off all social identities 
and float in silver pool of calm regret 
to cleanse reckless rage from my wounded heart. 

Though I give love I need no love returned 
through transformation of my flashing brain 
when flames of passion burn to angsty ash, 
yet I remember magic word of love 
that always resurrects my wounded heart 
so I become the faceless ghost you call. 

Though I remain the troubled guest of time 
as nameless stranger in this crazy world, 
I dance with wild abandon of the fool 
around the walnut tree in paradise 
when evening light glows red as divine blood 
that forms the word I speak with confidence. 

Stuck in this weird realm of necessity 
as contradiction of inherent means 
for giving love without expecting love, 
I overcome illusion of desire 
through brave expression of my star-wound will 
to translate misery into joyful psalm. 

Vanishing Mist Of Avalon

Vanishing Mist Of Avalon
© Surazeus
2026 01 21

She says she cannot catch the falling snow 
with soft voice hiding how she must not feel, 
and stares around at people in the park 
who walk together in close family groups, 
then peers at the green sun behind gold clouds 
which seems to understand without fake words. 

She strolls with awkward nonchalance of hope 
that something miraculous may occur 
while kicking piles of autumn leaves that swirl 
in sudden gust of wind from kingdom come 
that makes her cackle with unexplained love, 
but hides her mouth and hopes that no one saw. 

She steps sideways just off the cement path 
when seven boys race past her on sleek bikes 
then finds buds on bare twigs most interesting 
when the bright couple with tightly linked arms 
stroll by while laughing flirtatiously calm, 
then she watches them clandestinely sad. 

She thinks about the time her father cried 
when her mother was in the hospital 
sick with some strange fancy-named disease, 
but he ignored her when she came back home, 
drinking beer as he watched basketball games 
while she painted landscapes that no one bought. 

She spots tall man with glasses in tweed suit 
and hair tousled wistfully on his face 
as he reads some thick leather book that seems 
to contain secret knowledge about life 
that might explain how people grow in love 
to sweetly populate the universe. 

She wanders toward him under the ash tree 
with hope to gain knowledge about star runes, 
and tactfully bumps into his right arm, 
then catches the book as it falls with wings 
before his heart can fly into the sky, 
then blushes as she gives it back to him. 

She smiles at faceless ghost of everywhere 
as he mumbles thanks and continues on 
so she sighs sad as Lady of Shallot 
who pines in glass tower for Lancelot, 
though all knights in shining armor have gone 
into vanishing mist of Avalon. 

She stares at mirror-demon of her soul, 
her alter ago who appears from gloom 
to mock her fantasy with grim insults, 
so she returns home and lies in warm bed 
while singing heart-aching tunes of lost love 
which causes lightning flash to crack the world. 

Museum of Faceless Gods

Museum of Faceless Gods
© Surazeus
2026 01 20

Linking America to Angloland 
through Arthurity of my startled heart, 
I cartograph through noble characters 
narrative charter of our mythless state, 
rebuilding both Eden and Avalon 
as amusement parks where children can play. 

Constructing nation of Zarathia 
from crumbling ruins of America, 
I constitute new order of the world 
based on liberty and justice for all 
that aggregates all nations of the Earth 
with equal opportunity to live. 

To be means to belong to the tale 
of all world nations united through law 
that treats each individual with fair code, 
instead of the enclosed genetic tribe, 
for all humans on this resourceful globe 
spring from One Mother who taught us to sing. 

Though Justice sometimes seems to take too long 
to bend arc of the universe toward right, 
we stake fate on Utopian asymptote 
to secure thin curve from rational function 
of historical progress toward democracy 
against existential void of despair. 

Great heroes die into world narrative 
when selfless deeds of courage they perform 
inspire our hearts with vision of their role 
as now essential to our social health 
so we idolize them as divine gods 
to preserve ideal spirit of their trope. 

To achieve immortality through fame 
as stereotype based on your character, 
you must sacrifice your life to your myth 
through curse of fortune engineered by stars 
which molds your spirit to mask of your mind 
portrayed in Museum of Faceless Gods. 

After empire of America falls, 
corrupted by greed of the narcissist 
who tries to make himself hero of fate 
till his fantasy collapses from lies, 
we rewrite tale of our democracy 
signified with new name Zarathia. 

Zarathia means courage of the truth, 
which motivates our quest for liberty, 
inspires brave heart of every human being 
who shares this globe from sea to shining sea 
with generous attention of respect 
to each soul whose tale weaves our world myth. 

Find My Empty Grave

Find My Empty Grave
© Surazeus
2026 01 20

Faster than excited laughter of rain 
that drenches my brain with thunderous good cheer, 
thoughts about how to survive rage of death 
swirl wildly in waves over sharp river rocks, 
yet I forget why I am still alive 
as I crouch on smooth stone of bitter faith. 

Tall idol that emanates from my brain 
projects grand myth of the hero with pride 
whose jagged mind of arrogant respect 
scrapes the night sky with hunger from despair 
based on myopic archive of lost fears 
which I initiate through monuments. 

Based firmly on conceptual stone of truth 
deep in vortex of psychic energy, 
I carve names of great heroes on stone cliff 
who contribute noble deeds without fear 
to sustain momentum of discrete growth 
through progress of polite chastity. 

Ensconced with courage on top the cracked slab, 
inherent in mind-spiraled modesty 
with selfless performance to defy death, 
I balance scales between epic concern 
and intimate sorrow which maintains trust 
through different keys of the same global play. 

Shocked by peaceful arrival of blind fear, 
I watch the blue butterfly of despair 
teach existential quandary of the word 
that melts contractual elements of truth 
with each explosion of soft water waves 
that shake foundation of my self-esteem. 

I sing molecular music of life 
vibrating from cells composing my soul 
with colorful ghosts of attentive faith 
through legendary laugh of eagerness 
to share this time and space of lavender 
with strangers trapped by random innocence. 

Because I am the learned Astronomer 
who calculates fate from choices we make, 
I feel stars wink at me with sparking shots 
as bright demonic eyes of solitude 
who know where I am in the maze of myth 
but laugh at me when I ask where I am. 

Wind chimes of dizzy hope wake me from death 
though I fold leaves in wings of alphabets 
that shine as lantern of my naked heart 
so I convince fine shadow of the boat 
to bear my withered spirit far from time 
so laughter cannot find my empty grave. 

Remember Paradise I Lost

Remember Paradise I Lost
© Surazeus
2026 01 19

Though eight billion people inhabit Earth, 
each one speaking their own language of hope, 
I sit in voiceless silence of my home 
where I hear voices of the countless dead 
relate traumatic events of their lives 
while I record their names in book of myths. 

One more step on the bridge of silent song 
takes me beyond the bounds of paradise 
where people crowd vast maze of open doors 
that open to worlds of the multiverse 
where every human lives on their own globe 
which all swirl together in our One Earth. 

Iced pond smooth as silver eye of the witch 
reflects face of the angel without wings 
who falls to Earth from cloud of Jupiter 
and springs to life in body of my soul 
so I remember paradise I lost 
which I recreate in Heaven on Earth. 

Bright city of marble temples and halls 
that shines on summit of Acropolis, 
from which Athena reigns with sword of truth, 
projects world view of brave democracy 
based on justice and liberty for all 
which always triumphs over tyranny. 

With map Gerardus Mercator designed 
I sail bold ship across the seven seas 
by navigating straight line shore to shore 
to explore and colonize fertile lands 
assimilated in one world empire 
founded on Platonic Realm of Ideas. 

Somewhere on Earth with face no one can see 
one mortal human through humble respect 
embodies spirit of the Architect, 
divine Craftsman who programs our world view, 
managing world food-production machine 
with clear analysis of human needs. 

Tiresias explains in simple terms 
recurring world cycle of social change 
where we keep running faster every day 
in fierce competition to control land 
producing food for everyone to eat 
so I open my door to welcome Death. 

When I remember paradise I lost 
by molding metal of bright meteors 
into piston engine of time machines 
which I drive through maze of forgotten myths, 
I chronicle history of human life 
while sitting in ghostless church of the past. 

Holy Apples Of The Sun

Holy Apples Of The Sun
© Surazeus
2026 01 19

If I wake up from slumber of the sea, 
hair muddy with invective of desire, 
I slice tomatoes with sharp knife of fear 
to walk in woodlands of the singing bear 
who offers refuge to the crippled finch, 
then asks if I can ever love again. 

No strike of lightning startles me awake 
yet I feel flash of whiteness in my eyes 
so I touch cloud of fire with trembling hand 
that spawns new angel in my aching heart 
each time I draw weird meaning on the sand 
in tangled words that might console the land. 

Too awkward to remember words of faith, 
I try to heal all broken things of time 
but end up with large box of precious lies 
contrived by faceless ghosts of everywhere 
who strike my heart with guilt I cannot sell 
though I dig fingers in moist soil of fate. 

My black bones wriggle among roots of trees 
each year I reinvent the alphabet 
so we can write sad letters about hope 
borne far in boats on restless waves of tears 
because we hail from ancient land of skulls 
which gleam in shallow lake of silver fish. 

Old bearded man from hall of broken doors 
places skulls of dead tyrants on the shelf 
inside World Temple of the Laughing Skull 
so we can hear their riddles about fate 
encoded safe in solemn prophecies 
about the most evil king in the world. 

Cautious alertness of the apple girl, 
who senses danger in how sparrows fly, 
saves people of her city from attack 
when they assemble on the river shore 
and plot assassination of the thief 
who crowns himself in castle court of greed. 

Because we give each other secret names 
our bodies thrive safe from insults of thieves 
who spend their energy in frantic fear 
while we tend fields of wheat and cabbages 
since carrots sharpen vision of our eyes 
according to blind woman by the well. 

If I find holy apples of the sun 
on sacred tree of demons with snake eyes, 
I shall retrieve from cave of sparkling gems 
sweet fruit that nurtures us with energy, 
and leave them in rooms of people I love 
so they can taste eternity of love. 

Reborn On Buddha Wheel

Reborn On Buddha Wheel
© Surazeus
2026 01 19

We are the lonely people of the world 
who stare at faceless portraits on the wall 
and listen to how sad violins fall 
in violent cascade of conceptual twirl, 
pretending we will never die of truth 
by wandering with the memory of Ruth. 

She always seems to know how we should feel 
as if our bitter hearts are forged from steel 
so we dare cross the street when lights blink red 
to scatter shouting demons from our head 
before the Lord returns on clouds of fire 
because my tone disharmonates the choir. 

Therefore we must exchange with laughing zeal 
these faces only angels dare to steal 
except how far the humming toad can reach 
my naked shadow shivering on the beach 
too late to be reborn on Buddha Wheel 
that twists timeline of my fate beyond real. 

Yet when I pause on jagged cliff of rage 
at startled turning of the wordless page 
I feel strange dizzy twirling of the world 
that asks not how swift my soul could be hurled 
against aggressive wall of honesty 
since I am stuck in play Absurdity. 

When Emily rides black carriage with Death 
I force my body to inhale deep breath 
that swells my heart huge as hot-air balloon 
which floats my fractured skull up to the moon 
where rabbit on blue car remembers why 
every organic creature wants to fly. 

Alone on global stage of star-cursed fame, 
I sing with hope that old cromulent hymn 
composed by Gabriel in the subway car 
to translate scream of dragons stuck in tar 
with dulcet tones of our blind nightingale, 
encoding way to find the Holy Grail. 

Since I have know the kind judgmental eyes 
that fix me wriggling on the godless skies, 
I shall presume to rule the world with love 
expressed through wisdom of the howling dove 
that gleams in lamplight of Diogenes 
whose lovely Mermaid gives me broken keys. 

I wear mask of Prince Hamlet to the ball 
to start world revolution at the fall 
of nine aggressive tyrants when the stone 
of Sisyphus rolls with the golden bone 
that crushes Nebuchadnezzar to dust, 
then dance on skull of Ozymandias. 

Monster Of My Fantasy

Monster Of My Fantasy
© Surazeus
2026 01 19

We have to be cautiously cynical 
in order to survive this hostile world, 
always keeping mental radar alert 
with attitude that evil ever lurks 
in shadows of hate to attack our souls 
and suck our bodies dry of energy. 

Easily startled by shadows of rage, 
I jump out of my body on wild wings 
and flap around in frantic ecstasy 
in search for monster of my fantasy 
that always haunts my path to somewhere else 
as I breathe pure celestial energy. 

Fortuna, pulling loaded apple cart, 
senses gang of boys lurking behind trees, 
so she grabs stick and twirls it just in time 
to whack their heads as they rush quick to steal 
fruit of her labor, causing them to groan 
and flee as she continues on to town. 

Selling her wares at the small market stall, 
along with farmers, tailors, and craftsmen, 
Fortuna stares at distant silent woods 
with strange anxiety at something wrong, 
so she leaves with baskets half full of fruit, 
and hides in copse of oaks near the town gate. 

Trembling in terror at shadowy ghost 
that causes her to shiver in despair, 
Fortuna stares in shock when gang of thieves 
on fierce horses attack the market town, 
beating people and stealing all their goods, 
then racing wagons to their secret fort. 

Noting where gang of thieves base operations, 
Fortuna hurries back to market town 
and joins assembly of angry townsfolk, 
who vote to form army of self-defense, 
then leads them armed to hidden mountain fort, 
where they approach with stealth of cautious hope. 

Striding alone to guarded fortress gate, 
Fortuna shouts that she punishes crime 
and comes to kill them all, but they all laugh 
and carelessly leave strong protective walls, 
so townsfolk attack and kill every thief, 
then take their goods home to victory feast. 

Crowned as their noble hero of defense, 
Fortuna sits on throne in feasting hall, 
remaining cautious as they sing and dance, 
fighting back when surviving thieves attack 
to kill assassins with sharp justice sword, 
then drinks wine as townspeople cheer her rule. 

Beyond The Seventh Wall

Beyond The Seventh Wall
© Surazeus
2026 01 18

When I have arrived at the seventh wall, 
that shimmers between my Spirit and God 
who wears mirror mask of my secret face, 
my primal conscious sense of Other-Self 
will wake at center of the metaverse 
as persona my songs invent from dream. 

I am no Orpheus, Hamlet, or Balder, 
nor Jesus dancing on the Rainbow Bridge, 
because I create my persona mask 
from fragments of mythical characters 
to assemble puzzle of who I am 
so you can see your true self in my face. 

Whether I am faceless ghost of I Am 
which replicates my self as many selves 
seen by people in every town on Earth, 
or I am one human being with hot brain 
who wears many faces of long-dead gods, 
I am always the person you perceive. 

Brave human performing my self on stage, 
as stereotype I pretend to play, 
I am the director, the backstage crew, 
the stage, the camera, and the bright screen 
of the television and the computer, 
as well as the actor who plays all parts. 

This role of myself I perform each day 
is nothing more than puppet of my brain 
completely separate from the outside world, 
though tears of rain seep on my cluttered stage 
where I assemble fragments of the world 
in global puzzle of our new world order. 

Because I am the Theater of Hope 
on which I play character I design, 
I freeze into the idol of my soul 
so I still stand in temple of my tale 
ten thousand years after my body dies, 
for torso of Apollo I remain. 

I see you reading words of this dream verse, 
feeling your eyes scan thoughts of my sponge brain 
with passionate desire to understand 
anxious fears that motivate how I write, 
for poems that I compose with ardent faith 
spark conscious sense of my self in your brain. 

Beyond the seventh wall of my dream play 
I walk the endless maze of psychic myths 
that humans of the past built from their lives 
so you see statue of Surazeus 
when you read my words bleeding on this page 
every year for the next ten thousand years. 

Statues Buried In Mud

Statues Buried In Mud
© Surazeus
2026 01 18

We build our empire of contending states 
on grand revelation that liberty 
should be enjoyed by every dreaming soul 
born from the fertile womb of Mother Earth 
to share fruits of our labor in the fields 
while we ensure equal justice for all. 

Yet portraits of gods on museum walls 
display no delicate features in forms 
that mimic bodies humans animate, 
nor resemble statutes buried in mud 
by avalanche of fate which cracks stone walls 
that should pertain to code of paradise. 

Convinced the secret treasure, Jesus forged 
from meteor that almost cracked the Earth, 
is buried lost in wind-lashed field of snow, 
young girl travels halfway around the globe 
to walk the treeless waste land of deep hope 
where she finds nothing more than one shy deer. 

At thrilling conclusion of her vain quest 
she finds quaint haiku written in the snow 
by feet of dark-eyed Junco that describe 
how friends gather around warm glowing hearth 
and linger late in moonlight to share tales 
from their childhoods in Television Land. 

Amused that she misunderstood cruel joke 
she heard from Tengu in the mountain cave, 
young girl sails Argos east across the sea 
to ask the bearded men beside the lake 
how we can trust intuition of signs 
based on clever twist of dire prophecies. 

Then just as she stands on the frozen hill 
to watch the train glide slowly with the sun, 
she feels how cherished daughters of our hearts 
are incarnations of the ancient Earth, 
so she cries out to beauty of the light 
despite how truth is always in our eyes. 

Because the ocean bares sharp teeth of ice 
we ask if mothers always know the way, 
appalled by bitter anguish of soul birth 
when seeds break open with demonic faith 
that sucks sweet sorrow of the endless rain 
each hour we are reborn to thrive and die. 

Beneath the oak that blooms on river shore, 
her father planted at hour of her birth, 
Persephone measures deliberate wind 
as breath transformed from ravens into words 
which teach us how to taste cerulean fruit 
because we know that all great empires fall. 

Knock On The Scary Door

Knock On The Scary Door
© Surazeus
2026 01 18

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door 
to ask the Happy Ghoul for Hour of Death, 
the Weeping Woman in White Tattered Dress 
answers instead with box Pandora made 
from which my secret desires swirl as bees 
that lure me to Gate of the Twilight Zone. 

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door 
to purchase Weird Truth from Fiery Redhead, 
the Southern Gator, plucking banjo strings, 
tries to sell me Cool Crown of Psychic Power, 
but I search for the Blind Girl in the Tower 
who keeps the Holy Grail in her heart. 

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door 
to map the Golden Way to Fairy Land, 
the Sad Clown points Rubber Gun at Thor 
who flees to Shining City on the Hill 
to wear Mask of Secret Identity 
as Car Mechanic for the Techno Wizard. 

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door 
to give my heart to Damsel in Distress, 
the Evil Queen sucks spirit of my brain 
to float as shimmer in Mirror of Lies 
till Quirky Bard with Lyre of Mercury 
tries to rescue me from the Underworld. 

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door 
to trade Ring of Invisibility, 
the Jungle Princess, with Bow of Desire, 
recruits me to rescue from House of Rubies 
Innocent Nuns who weave Basket of Bones, 
so we defeat Good King in the Glass Castle. 

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door 
to answer Call to Adventure in Hades, 
the Mystical Waif at the Burning Bush 
gives me Sacred Scroll with Riddles of Ruth 
so I can program how brains perceive life 
to imitate Principle of the Thing. 

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door 
to deconstruct prudish Victorian Novel, 
the Time Wizard, who repairs Tree-Trunk Clocks, 
explains how to contrive the Happy Ending 
for the Knight Errant and the Femme Fatale 
who married in Church of the Vampire God. 

Each morning I knock on the Scary Door 
to wrestle Lame Bull of Anxiety, 
the Wandering Minstrel on the Signless Road 
calls the Shrinking Violent prone to tears 
who transforms to Uncanny Valley Girl 
when we kiss in Cathedral Ruins of Faith. 

Beyond The Promised Land

Beyond The Promised Land
© Surazeus
2026 01 18

Below the hill where fortune waits for me 
rain puddles shimmer in the morning sun, 
so I gaze down in mirror of my mind 
to ponder how human history is based 
on the Mother and Child beneath the tree 
that blooms with holy apples of the sun. 

Iridescent sheen of beautiful hope 
inspires my heart to construct from strong wood 
home of four pillars on firm pyramid 
to shelter bodies of my family 
from harsh conditions of indifferent weather 
so we can thrive in garden of the light. 

Ascension up scale of authority 
to manage domestic scope of insight 
provides elevated view of the world 
composed of wheat fields divided by roads 
that channel water from the lake of dreams 
where farmers cultivate soul sustenance. 

To protect the Mother and Child from harm 
I build safe house on pyramid of skulls, 
then plow fields with solemn strength of cows 
to bake bread from wheat that gleams with sunlight 
which I store in warehouse as the loaf-ward, 
and thus build world food-production machine. 

We cannot return to that Eden state 
as we connect all cities on the globe 
in teeming web of wealth-computing towers 
where we drive swift piston-engine machines 
in endless chess game of productive strife 
ruled over by thieves in gray business suits. 

Still alive after sixty centuries, 
World Pharaoh stands on pyramid of gold 
to rule the Earth as Demon of Desire 
whose faceless mask of great authority 
controls state presidents as puppeteer 
through statue of gold with soft feet of clay. 

Blind singer homeless on the White House lawn 
strums lyre of Mercury with crippled hands 
and sings with crackling voice of radios 
psalms of David and hymns of Orpheus 
to lead lost refugees of civil wars 
on signless road beyond the Promised Land. 

Escaping prison camps of feudal farms, 
ruled by tyrants in castles with gold crowns, 
we sail the wild Atlantic Sea of fear 
to colonize Edenic Promised Land 
where we crucify our messiah sleuth 
on the telephone pole of the waste land. 

Wild Electric Heart

Wild Electric Heart
© Surazeus
2026 01 17

Muted tone of my wild electric heart, 
loaded with anguish of harrowing loss 
from laughing flames that hammer at black sky 
despite unfinished business of sad rain, 
hums soft with spooky honesty of fear 
when blind angels escape in sudden flight. 

Awake in pulsing endlessness of pain 
sliced into searing hours of gloom and glare, 
I measure changeless beauty of the sea 
with each assertive step of cautious hope 
as I pray to the path my feet design 
in stubborn innocence of wordless rage. 

Because I am not self-portrait of God 
reflected in clear pool of silver gleam, 
I eat ripe apple from the Tree of Fate 
to understand why flowers bloom from seeds 
with anxious burst of supercilious leaves 
which dare explain why I must not be real. 

Overwhelmed by flashing rays of sunlight, 
which beam from enormous eye in the sky 
watching me with relentless glare of truth, 
I check my privilege with nervous hand 
that I reach helplessly to touch the light 
which pierces me with frantic energy. 

Inspired to collect proof the sun knows why 
ache of sorrow converts my bitter rage 
to shocked surprise at sparkle of cool rain, 
I must accept that God Mind in the sun 
sees my body with original love 
though I reverse my journey from my birth. 

So I kneel by small pool in Shadow Wood 
to cup sweet water with tingling hands 
and drink invisible darkness of faith 
till I see face of Narcissus by mine 
who kisses me with gentle ardency 
as we both levitate above the world. 

Immortal spirit of my dreaming mind 
swells ripe in secret pocket of my heart, 
morphing through each evolutionary form, 
fish to lizard to mouse to cat to monkey 
to wingless angel suckling at my breast 
who echoes every breathy word I speak. 

Syncopated hymn of humble respect 
blooms pure as lily from mud of my flesh 
when playful daughter of my soul matures 
to young woman with the same silver eyes 
Narcissus opens from mask of the sun 
when we bury him by pool of our tears. 

Secret Scroll Of Tiresias

Secret Scroll Of Tiresias
© Surazeus
2026 01 17

Driven mad by the sweet laughter of truth, 
I walk around the town of faceless ghosts 
who might be real people with secret names 
if I look close enough in their bright eyes 
to see one deity our bodies share 
animate them with passion to sing their pain. 

Scribbling parables from the new age creed 
that programs how people perform their roles 
in framework of religious fantasy, 
I throw book of lies, forged with valency 
from myths of miracles, in lake of tears 
where fish devour them with rapacity. 

Back from lush garden of insanity, 
where children struggle to escape dream stones 
to play hide and seek in temple of fate, 
I knock on locked doors of suburban pride 
to sell salvation of the Buddha Toad 
who teaches why creatures are free to choose. 

Carefully observing forgotten clues 
in fragments of tales scattered on the road, 
I seek the crippled angel where she hides 
in wrecked car on the crumbling bridge of hate 
who keeps in her body oracle bones 
on which are written spells of vanity. 

Purchase dreams that increase capacity 
of your brain to analyze bogus fears 
preserved in folk beliefs of fulgency 
which fester truth in global fallacy 
that more than atoms alchemize our souls, 
or else admit that love is all you need. 

If I see spark of light in cymophane, 
retrieved from Persephone on a dare, 
I might fall upward in soul-slippery skies 
to land in Heaven where devils play games 
with humans in cathedrals without hosts 
who wait for coming of messiah sleuth. 

Though I retreat in labyrinth of fake words 
to find secret scroll of Tiresias 
on quest to find most fertile Holy Grail, 
I always end up at the faith-locked door 
to grand cathedral with slant rays of light 
where Emily sings hymns of broken hearts. 

Young girls in markets sell apples from carts 
while I learn magic art of airplane flight 
so I can photograph the cosmic core 
where God sorts our intergalactic mail 
with psychic map designed by Pytheas 
who translates riddles of religious birds. 

Indifferent Nature Of Life

Indifferent Nature Of Life
© Surazeus
2026 01 17

Tangled in relentless progress of change, 
I move through maze of life on puppet strings 
in search to find the master of my fate, 
but sense no super-conscious puppeteer 
other than indifferent nature of life 
that drags me into the future of hope. 

My brain projects the future of the world 
I want to see on blank wall of desire, 
but everything that happens in the past 
erases fancy dream of paradise 
so I am blinded by strange light of truth 
that leaves me stranded in a strange new world. 

I wake in future world of strange events 
I never imagined in wildest dreams, 
so I outline on mirror of the sky 
complicated status of social being 
to help me understand where I am now 
somewhere in endless maze of nowhere else. 

While I look at the mirror of my mind 
I get in the way of who I should be 
when I remember who I used to be 
because I know myself better than me 
though I am still alive with flame of faith 
that twists my body into what I am. 

My body flows with endless stream of time 
so I research true nature of my being 
and find unmeasured strangeness of my heart 
embodied by ancestors of my soul 
as numberless characters who make me, 
indifferent with compassion of the dead. 

My inner demon dictates tale of life 
I want to play regardless of the rules 
so I invent advanced conceptual tools 
that help me build vast paradise of truths 
composed of stories that depict in scenes 
life of every person who ever lived. 

I have no answers for questions you pose 
about strange beauty of this world we love, 
surprised by glory of the flaming clouds 
that illuminate silent mountain peaks 
with secret honor of the falling god 
who wakes inside my body as me now. 

Inseminated with pure cosmic light, 
my brain expands beyond bounds of belief 
so I know name of everything that is, 
programmed by circuits of existent souls 
who follow routines of heart-breaking grief 
to offer pamphlets on the end of time. 

Echoes Trapped In Vows

Echoes Trapped In Vows
© Surazeus
2026 01 17

In bitter rain of the cold morning hour 
all I know are thick mud and tangled trees, 
so I search the world for the last gold flower 
that intoxicates me with scented breeze, 
till I ask ghost of the horse with gold eyes 
how she unveils dizzy sun in the skies. 

Enclosing me with ancient eyes of light, 
snow horse explains how angels without wings 
explore our dream world in fantastic flight 
as mushrooms bloom in moon-round fairy rings 
because I speak in echoes trapped in vows 
while writhing with hope under golden boughs. 

If I can play baptism of the brain 
to understand strange riddles of the clown, 
I might arrive at work unwet from rain 
at oldest crowded restaurant in town 
where I bring plates of food to hungry souls 
who excitedly discuss social roles. 

The countless selves that separate their masks 
from faceless core at center of my mind 
imitate me when they perform weird tasks 
that sustain social system men designed 
because I hide in home of doorless fear 
at second coming of the puppeteer. 

My younger self on swing of ardent faith 
attempts to leap into bright sky of joy 
but disappears in mirror of the wraith 
to challenge God with puzzles seers employ 
in mental game of chess in tune with Death 
who teaches me key of celestial breath. 

Sad orphans wait for parents to return 
from grand amusement park of bankruptcy 
despite noble expressions of concern 
church leaders sell to steal dream gadgetry 
sealed to hide bloodline of the holy grail 
through lost heritage of the great white whale. 

Awake at hour of midnight outside Heaven, 
I search for mask from ancient gallery 
designed to enchant spirit of the Raven 
whose secret project of world wizardry 
realigns structure of great nation-states 
to tangle genes that favor divine traits. 

Enwrapped in satin cape of princesshood, 
I name each person on the signless road 
who wants to live in pleasant neighborhood 
where every soul bears the same heavy load 
in struggle to transcend our mortal state 
since we choose how stars reprogram our fate. 

Vibrant Spirit Of My Bride

Vibrant Spirit Of My Bride
© Surazeus
2026 01 16

Of all the souls whom Artemis has loved, 
mortals who shine with favor of her pride, 
my bride outshines them all with character 
based on attention to practical needs 
grounded in concerns of body and soul 
fostered by nurture of respectful trust. 

While she is still alive with breath of hope 
her brave brightness illuminates my world 
with rays from Phosphorus, the dawning star, 
and after she joins me in Neverland 
her memory will guide children of our hearts 
with beams of Hesperus, the evening star. 

If Chiron makes blind Phoenix see again 
then he could take me back across the Styx 
so I may bring fruit from tree of Tantalus 
to give ripe apple to bride of my heart 
whose warm embrace could resurrect my soul 
so I can lead her home with Orphean song. 

When I compare true beauty of my bride, 
which emanates from her confident heart 
through deeds of care for children of our souls, 
to glamourous Venus with her graceful stance, 
I pray mad Goddess of Beauty accepts 
that I prefer blunt woman I adore. 

With swift-foot courage of bold Perseus 
I would save from aggressive beasts of hate 
frail spirit of my bride with humble wiles, 
preventing thugs from chaining her with greed 
so she remains free in haven of faith 
to craft her vision of this world in art. 

No haunted Semele, doomed by fierce fate 
to burn at flash of knowledge about love, 
my bride prepares nutritious meals with care 
to nourish us with selfless diligence, 
inspired by signs of Zeus Semaleus 
that guide our journey home to Wonderland. 

Since I can take no wealth my hands acquire 
to afterlife in lush Elysian Fields, 
which is fraudulent fantasy of fear, 
then I bequeath as legacy of love 
earthly treasures to coffers of my bride 
so she may live well long after I die. 

Honored by choice of her pragmatic heart 
to guard hearth of her adept sovereignty 
with generous endowment of selfless love, 
I cherish vibrant spirit of my bride 
so we share cups of juice with mutual trust 
as Mercury and Artemis in love. 

Justice Of The Cosmic Wraith

Justice Of The Cosmic Wraith
© Surazeus
2026 01 16

We spring from timeless dream of Mother Earth 
at song of wingless angels in vast sky 
who celebrate our special spirit birth 
with vision of love in our ancient eye, 
so we feast in grand temple of our faith, 
inspired by beauty of the cosmic wraith. 

When thieves attempt to crown themselves grand kings 
and strut in shining palaces of gold 
we pray for Fate to spread wild angel wings 
that cast them howling on the storm-wracked wold, 
because we fight with bravery of faith, 
inspired by passion of the cosmic wraith. 

Awake at fulcrum of unbalanced change, 
I wield feather of truth inside my soul 
to oscillate through matrix of the strange 
that nurtures enterprise as sacred goal 
by which we compass progress of our faith, 
inspired by wisdom of the cosmic wraith. 

Thus we explore the world with curious zeal 
to build republic of the common good 
since clever Helios invented the wheel, 
so we form Eden from ghoul-haunted wood, 
encoding social laws in book of faith, 
inspired by justice of the cosmic wraith. 

We gather in great hall of standing stones 
with honest intention to debate laws 
designed to mold our electric bones 
from demons into angels through first cause 
with civil discourse on nature of faith, 
inspired by prudence of the cosmic wraith. 

Concerned at collapse of democracy, 
when greedy tyrant grasps taut reigns of power, 
we chant satires against hypocrisy 
composed by Jupiter in Ivory Tower 
with project to revive national faith, 
inspired by courage of the cosmic wraith. 

I map new world view by the roadless sign 
that guides my quest to find the humming toad 
whose riddles emanate the charged divine 
which beams slant rays to light the signless road 
where I lead refugees to land of faith, 
inspired by mercy of the cosmic wraith. 

My eye shapes symmetry of water drops 
to crystal snowflakes through atomic force 
when I float high on pyramid of Cheops 
to channel through my brain the spiral source 
from which springs all life at first flash of faith, 
inspired by knowledge of the cosmic wraith. 

Cove Of The Introverse

Cove Of The Introverse
© Surazeus
2026 01 15

Arbitrary array of random thoughts 
embodies ancient spirit of respect 
awake in chemical shells with hot brains 
that pulse attentively from sparkling words 
so we become self-conscious clowns of love 
happily awkward at confession time. 

Round-about method for stacking concepts 
as bricks in thick walls that protect our hearts 
betrays naive trust in goodness of fate 
that leaves our bodies vulnerable to fear 
blasting excessive rates of ardent faith 
which blinds my eyes to danger by my side. 

Huddled safe in cove of the introverse, 
where demon fish with arrogant eyes crawl, 
I laugh assertively to dispel rage 
swelling from strange darkness inside my heart 
that knocks me sideways in sudden surprise 
because I understand why creatures die. 

Soft sand of the beach soothes my aching mind 
with supple sorrow sagaciously caught 
by thoughtless debates between faceless ghosts 
aghast at dismissive whispers of leaves 
which deign to shelter our bodies from rain 
that always seems to know feelings we hide. 

Startled by sudden beat of flaming wings, 
I see demonic sphinx with scarlet feathers 
glide gracefully above my secret cove, 
so I hold my breath with terrified wonder 
at what powerful leader of the world 
will die at the coming of Gamayun. 

Gasping for breath with curious despair, 
I follow flaming wings of Gamayun, 
who lands on jagged judgment stone of truth 
where Perun sits proud on gold throne of power, 
and watch amazed as siren with gold eyes 
attacks great thunder god with tearing claws. 

Astonished at sudden bloody demise 
of that great king who ruled since dawn of time, 
I stare down at his mangled corpse of bones 
that once aggressively asserted power 
with brute strength of spirit-controlling rage, 
fierce god diminished to torn lifeless corpse. 

Holding scepter of power in my hand, 
and wearing cape of feathers Perun wore, 
I sit on throne of power where he sat 
before vast crowd of ghosts who praise my name, 
till dream of glory vanishes in gloom 
when the sun-bright Gamayun flies away. 

Till We Free Eden

Till We Free Eden
© Surazeus
2026 01 15

Romulus has come to America 
to steal sword of Spartacus from his tomb 
and lead wild men who spring from dragon teeth 
in holy war against tyrant of gold 
since Midas has allied with Hannibal 
to beat heads of upstarts with Bible clubs. 

When Jason and the rowdy Argonauts 
invade vast cities of America 
to kidnap Alice lost in Wonderland, 
brave Romulus stands before the locked gate 
to face cruel Goliath in civil war 
when he shoots David in back of the head. 

If laughing Grendel breaks down jeweled gates 
to drag the Weeping Woman from her church, 
bloodstained Medea rises from her grave 
to hurl head of Odysseus at Apollo 
who asks brooding Hamlet for good advice 
on how to fight for Liberty and Truth. 

Since Jupiter asks Artemis for help 
to fight invasion of the Viking horde, 
who swarm in rage from sea to shining sea, 
she leads protests with the bloody flag 
to drive Grendel and Goliath from Heaven 
and stop them arresting innocent Elves. 

Since Nobody knows who is right or wrong, 
or what side anyone else should be on, 
we shout at each other in crowded streets 
while Grendel and Goliath in black duds 
beat Jason and Apollo on the head 
for opposing Midas in the Gold House. 

Dragging innocent citizens from cars, 
and locking them in secret prison camps, 
Grendel and Goliath, with guns of faith, 
declare they will arrest those who dare 
obstruct justice in name of Liberty, 
and detain people who are the wrong sort. 

Alone in homes across Zarathia, 
good people of America conspire 
to oppose Midas and his gang of thugs 
lead by Grendel and Goliath in crusade 
to cleanse undesirables from the land 
with hammer of Thor in their bloody hands. 

Assembling people of America, 
Romulus with Excalibur in hand 
welcomes Arthur to Land of the Free 
who takes hand of Artemis with new hope 
and leads us to oppose cruel tyranny 
till we free Eden from the gang of thieves. 

Must Reckon With Fire

Must Reckon With Fire
© Surazeus
2026 01 14

If I must reckon with fire of the word 
that burns the mind with extravagant faith, 
I may elevate with riddles of truth 
vulnerable passion of protective pride 
because I crave closeness between our hearts 
that binds our self-reliance into love. 

Each word I carve on trunk of the Time Tree 
presents blueprint so the wild voice may draw 
inner beauty with emotional strike 
of blatant precision that tips my heart 
into self-indulgence of selfless love 
by which I model how great men behave. 

Rooted in performance through empathy 
my way of life belabors honesty 
by working in the orchard of the lost 
who steal their faces from forgotten myths 
then sleep in chicken sheds with angel wings, 
caged by economic necessity. 

Yet while I trudge across the frozen lake 
on lucid mirror of infinity, 
I stop and gaze at vast array of stars 
that do not calculate what fate I live 
when I feel the complete universe shift 
sideways at glimmer of the wordless book. 

Winter stars pierce my tender breast of faith 
with surprising laughter twirled by swan wings 
so I grasp morning light with blurred respect 
when I zoom out perspective to full scope 
that collects stories in anthology 
devised as scripture for the refugee. 

Illiterate sky of naked alphabets 
expands so far beyond my conscious shell 
that I consider how my body floats, 
mythologized by billowed gravity 
since I am young and thus expect to know 
how far across the country I must go. 

I will be nothing after I am dead 
as head of brave Goliath on the plate, 
amused by reverence for heroic deeds 
that save the tribe from monstrous tyranny 
before the hour of change has run its course 
since I must reckon with fire of the word. 

I see true essence of all things that are 
because they vibrate with word energy 
through brave attentive flight of honey bees 
that show me how to fight the tyrant king 
and free our people from his grasping greed 
that dissipates in age of frantic peace. 

Numinous Phantom Of Love

Numinous Phantom Of Love
© Surazeus
2026 01 14

Through fragile keeping of the holy mind, 
brain woven from neurons of flashing dust, 
I try to preserve in dreams I design 
memories of people who created me, 
but we all swirl away as dust in wind, 
though echoes of our voices ring in song. 

I cannot perfect game of solitude 
by dancing in slow vortex of all time, 
yet I will attempt to suspend its flow 
through record of deeds we humans perform 
till we are swallowed into nothingness 
after atoms organize as our brains. 

I wonder as I trudge to work each dawn 
if I am David with slingshot of truth 
or Goliath defending apple trees, 
for they are reborn every eighty years, 
doomed to battle in endless game of thrones 
since Zeus and Oedipus will always win. 

The Rebel will always become the King, 
Cronus replaced by Zeus to reign with strength, 
who replaced Uranus in game of power, 
and Phoebus buried Zeus in hidden tomb, 
the father overthrown by his brave son, 
till we elect our kings with voice of choice. 

We look with longing to the Shadow Wood 
for Samson with long hair and blazing eyes 
to emerge with spear that Longinus lost, 
but Jupiter chains his hands to the wheel 
to grind wheat for bread on which empires stand 
as young girls weep for Tammuz without end. 

With Lucifer and Icarus I fall 
blazing with flame of Gabriel from wild clouds, 
then fly with Earendel on wings of truth 
above our world-wide maze of tribal myths 
where idols of dead gods scream in the void, 
three angels with no message for mankind. 

Reborn as Horwendilus for this age, 
I sit in quiet contemplation here 
on still point of the turning metaverse 
with Crown of Thorns, Lamp of Diogenes, 
Sword of Justice Arthur threw in the lake, 
and Lyre of Mercury inside my heart. 

I wish to avoid getting crucified 
since I wear mask of your messiah sleuth 
with mission assigned by the cosmic herald 
to reveal strange beauty of the White Whole 
that you can find climbing three steps to Heaven 
and dwell with numinous phantom of love. 

Stuck In Maze Of Regrets

Stuck In Maze Of Regrets
© Surazeus
2026 01 13

When I think too much about past events 
I find myself stuck in maze of regrets, 
so I turn around and walk nowhere else, 
wandering listlessly without fateful goal 
past broad welcoming gates of Wonderland 
till I stand with broken heart by the sea. 

Mired deep in soul-sucking muck of despair, 
I stare beyond scope of infinity 
to where imaginary goddess shines 
enskied in mantle of fortunate stars 
since my heart wants to stellify her soul 
so she descends on wings of honesty. 

Enrobed in flashing cape of calm compassion, 
she sings enchanting melody of hope 
that wraps my fragile soul in arms of love 
to draw my writhing ghost from dark abyss 
which blooms my mind with broad angelic wings 
and sparks my heart with passion to live well. 

Emerging from cocoon of anxious fear, 
I stretch attentive scope of my soul wide 
with conscious wisdom to comprehend why 
quick atoms aggregate in dreaming brains 
which sparks our souls awake with urgent faith 
to fight oppressors for true liberty. 

Awake with brave attention of concern, 
through intense focus on disparate facts, 
I analyze through measurement of deeds 
dire consequence spurred by uncertain loops 
to trace effects back to their primal cause 
enclosing cycle of recurrent scenes. 

Thus I perceive with flash of clear insight 
psychological operations planned 
and executed by clandestine means 
through shadow-veiled conspiracy of greed 
to trap and bind my fierce angelic soul 
with mind-controlling concepts of false truth. 

Conceptual system of our social scheme 
asserts as uncontested facts of nature 
rights that favor with privilege of gain 
men who assert aggressive force of will 
in strict contract that empowers their hands 
to control how we perceive what is real. 

After I deconstruct their system of power 
to disperse fake authority they claim, 
I construct new world view of social rights 
which ensures equal opportunity 
for every person living on this Earth 
so we together walk maze of respect. 

God In Temporary Form

God In Temporary Form
© Surazeus
2026 01 13

Untethered from strange taste of ancient fruit 
when I hang from my tail in Tree of Life, 
I descend to Earth on angelic wings 
to fly upright in surging waves of change 
where I learn to walk on feet of firm faith 
because I see my face glow in bright clouds. 

Faint twang of words I speak with holy breath 
vibrates through frame of flesh that binds my soul 
with writhing beams of moonlight on dark lake, 
still weightless on soft undulating waves 
ten thousand years after I wake from dream 
through evolution as I become god. 

I wonder what pain of my body means 
that pulses bold with fierce intent to grasp 
elusive ghost of flashing energy 
that fills my mind with sudden state of being 
through clear insight at what my brain perceives 
so I speak word that creates why I am. 

Gold cloud of bees hum soft with anxious hope 
from potent passion of hungry desire 
at shock of insight that strikes at my heart 
as perfect omen that frames puzzling thoughts 
encased in vision of my crafting act 
which I perform with gesture of good faith. 

Enclosed by limited bounds of my being, 
my spirit shivers at sharp gust of breath 
that fills my frame with vast industrial cold, 
assumed when arrogant ghost in my breast 
asserts aggressive need to progress forth 
against harsh wind that beats against my face. 

Ten million years I spiral into being 
by speaking words my brain invents to mean 
conceptual objects I perceive as real 
when I point to fear-tangled limbs of hope 
and say "Tree" as I hold three fingers up, 
true shelter of trust where we hold our tryst. 

With each word I invent my brain creates 
complex landscape of plants and animals 
who roam among trees by rivers in vales 
between mountains where clouds drench us in rain 
that fills our bodies with intense desire 
to hold each other with passionate love. 

I crawl from womb of mother in the cave 
ten thousand generations to transcend 
each mortal body as immortal genes 
transforming to wingless angel from ape 
by singing hymns to idol of the man 
who first plays god in temporary form. 

Godless Sun Of Light

Godless Sun Of Light
© Surazeus
2026 01 12

When I stare out the window of my heart 
at vast godless night of eternity, 
I wonder how my serpent-powered soul 
got trapped in maze of standardized concepts 
disguised as idols of eccentric gods 
worshipped by humans in multiple forms. 

Carving bones of my body into blocks, 
I construct city hall with copper dome 
where Goddess of Liberty stands on top, 
holding Book of Stories and Lamp of Truth, 
who shines so brightly with alphabet eyes 
that we are blinded by God, Truth, and Right. 

When I was the Mother Fish of mankind, 
swimming in silent shimmer of the sea, 
I remember great God Eye of pure light 
that lured me to crawl diamond river bed 
to pulsing lake of psychic energy 
where I emerged from darkness of desire. 

First Mother rises from the lake of dreams 
at dawn of time to reach for star-sweet fruit, 
swift-running mouse who transforms into cat, 
high-leaping cat who transforms into monkey, 
tree-swinging monkey who transforms into man, 
spell-singing man who transforms into god. 

I learn to walk upright in surging tide 
while treading water near the sandy shore, 
so I rise from lake of dreams at dawn of time 
to stretch my arms up to the gleaming sky 
where the godless sun of light watches me 
explore the world she weaves from molecules. 

Because the Many-Faced God of mankind 
has no face that my dull eyes can perceive, 
I see eternal spirit of the sun 
clear in face of every human on Earth 
because many variant faces we wear 
bloom from perfect face our first mother wore. 

While sitting on the beach at dawn of time, 
I gaze at face of my mother with love 
who smiles at me as bright cloud of the sky 
for she watches over me though she dies 
as divine soul in godless sun of light 
who lives in each new soul we generate. 

After I watch body of my dead mother 
disintegrate from beauty of her face 
to sand that swirls around her smiling skull, 
I walk around the Earth ten thousand times 
one hundred million years on holy quest 
to find her face in godless sun of light. 

Wisdom Of The Quantum Soul

Wisdom Of The Quantum Soul
© Surazeus
2026 01 12

Though Death will think I have escaped his eye 
because I write my dreams on moon-lit page, 
I know he waits with patience of the sea 
to swallow my frail light of consciousness, 
so I will not blind my heart with needless rage, 
instead express my love for life with song. 

When Captain Scott arrived at the South Pole, 
eager to claim glory of being the first, 
yet found Amundsen beat him at the game, 
he screamed into the void with bitter angst, 
then froze to death while wandering in despair, 
and lies forever inside tomb of ice. 

Since Antarctic ice flows out to the sea, 
Captain Scott, preserved in eternal rest 
with same flawless repose as Sleeping Beauty, 
will eventually fall into the sea 
three hundred and sixty years from his death 
where he will float inside his tomb of ice. 

Five hundred years from now his tomb of ice 
will land on lush shore of the Promised Land 
where he will wake at kiss of Artemis 
and walk with her among tall apple trees 
where she speaks language of the Crystal Snake 
who teaches wisdom of the Quantum Soul. 

Across bleak landscape of my frozen heart 
I ski toward South Pole of our pulsing Earth 
to stand on still point of the multiverse 
and savor beauty of bright rainbow beams 
that weave atomic energy of light 
through sinews of my body with dream words. 

I am no Moses in the wilderness, 
bearing crystal plates with principles 
defining how to manage force of life, 
yet I climb mountain of the Laughing Skull 
to transcribe riddles of its writhing tongue 
which prophesy how all great empires fall. 

I am no Joshua leading refugees 
who flee bomb-hurling planes with angel wings 
to colonize tribe-crowded land of lakes, 
yet I plow fields of weeds to plant gold wheat 
with Golden Calf of Aaron as my guide 
so Ceres bakes bread to weep for Tammuz. 

I am no Orpheus with broken lyre, 
but soul of Mercury wakes in my heart 
when I become high mountains and deep seas, 
and wake from dream as godless sun of light, 
so drink apple cider with me today 
as we play hide and seek with Father Death. 

New Jorvik Magazine

New Jorvik Magazine
© Surazeus
2026 01 11

After the morning scrolls itself awake 
in ponderous words of rain on blue glass, 
eyeless sparrow on windowsill of fate 
rehearses arrogant remorse by noon 
encoded in engine rumble of cars 
that float in circles of white butterflies. 

If I drink coffee that tastes of elsewhere, 
in cup chipped by worry of ignored facts, 
I might hear cheerful whistle of the neighbor 
who waters delicate plants in clean pots 
that have already decided to glow 
with unread stories of the morning news. 

Developing news on the flashing screen 
reveal secret desires of human hearts 
which means the faceless ghosts of anywhere 
have not yet heard their names hidden in drops 
of rain that glitter on the window pane 
so tables understand how to stand straight. 

I scroll past strange argument about God 
that I once designed from logical terms 
still typing itself in mouth of the horse 
who always brings the tree nymph to my house 
so we drink tea brewed from angelic tears 
and read poems in New Jorvik Magazine. 

Sad siren on stone of Odysseus 
braids air with urgency of hungry gods, 
but drops unfinished book of fairy tales 
unread into the swirling tides of change 
that we must deal with in the city streets 
where emergencies reach for the last peach. 

My phone forgets whom I need to call now, 
so I eat lunch alone in crowded church 
with private anguish of the humble sign 
that flashes when my camera clears its throat, 
alert to ad that promises respect 
stuck in three payments of simplicity. 

Clouds rehearse impersonations of gods 
which dwell in mountains, animals, and trees, 
except apology no one accepts 
for mistake I made on the roadless sign 
when the dead king briefly consults my firm 
for how to understand words of the rain. 

My eyeless sparrow on the windowsill 
develops theory about broken brains 
that should explain how mirrors steal our souls 
each time we write emails to companies 
for refunds from the American Dream 
which linger unsent in the unsaved night. 

Animals With God Souls

Animals With God Souls
© Surazeus
2026 01 11

Within animal body of my name 
celestial soul of stellar energy 
animates my passion to savor life 
when we embrace as voices in the dark 
on bed of fabrications we design 
to bind our hearts with dawn light of respect. 

Because we are the newest animals 
to walk the Earth as if we own its dreams, 
bright sunlight smiles through tangled limbs of trees 
with understanding love that parents give 
to watch us play in flowers of childhood 
before we build empires of thought control. 

We trace insignia through naive hearts 
with blades of grass that highlight bitter truth 
that someone always tries to confiscate 
more food than they need to eat every day, 
then traps our spirits with fake legacy 
in traditions they ploy to bind our souls. 

Trapped in tradition of the way things are, 
we struggle to contain fierce energy 
to play free on the fenceless plain of wind 
till many freeze to death in winter snow 
so we combine our efforts to produce 
enough food for our children to survive. 

I hear strange voices in the godless woods 
call my name with eerie whispered tone, 
so I log in to my new bank account 
with plan to pay the pied piper his due 
because Orpheus leads our souls from Hell 
in great escape from prison of the church. 

Church bells ring weirdly in the misty vale 
so we assemble by the drought-dry well 
to shake peonies from iron chains of fear 
where white lambs graze on sorrows of our hearts 
till honeybees brew wisdom from despair 
so we engage in dialogue of souls. 

If we decide to follow streams of change 
by hiding anger at electric clouds, 
we may find where the sea of dreams has hid 
behind devotion to the lonely girl 
who always seems to know what will occur 
because she catches lightning with her eyes. 

Now that our stars throb in reachable depths, 
we sell fruit of grief to strangers with coins 
who glare as they draw borders that enclose 
our freedom to explore bountiful hills 
where rain strips dire urgency from our hearts 
because we are animals with god souls. 

Unmined Hills Of Kalitia

Unmined Hills Of Kalitia
© Surazeus
2026 01 11

Regret never suppresses the wild beat 
my heart asserts with mission to expand 
conscious scope of attention to contain 
complex system of knowledge which describes 
progress of history through human events 
defined by conflict of opposing groups. 

My productive gain honestly obtained 
sifts sand-loosely through hourglass of desire 
though I hoard possessions of petty pearls 
in fractured chest of nervous vigilance 
sparked by apprehensive analysis 
to shield my treasure from covetous thieves. 

Strict summary of special benefits 
provides venal motive for hungry souls, 
susceptible to bribery through greed, 
who dare appropriate my unearned loot 
through abstract calculation to purloin 
embezzled fortune of idolized wealth. 

Precious metals of hope-cherished esteem 
gleam seductively with alluring faith 
of misplaced trust in mercenary art 
inspired by predatory plan to gain 
material vital to industrial progress 
that shines in unmined hills of Kalaallit. 

Rapacious gangs of corporate pirates eye 
mineral-rich mountains gleaming with ice 
which sparks international war to claim 
long-ignored paradise of silver light 
contrived by Midas in tower of greed 
to snatch sovereignty from generous hands. 

New Heaven with crystal towers of faith 
I will construct on lush plains of Greenland 
to found grand Empire of Kalitia 
from which I rule with laws of liberty 
Zarathia and Gothinia and Russia, 
united by Runes of my Odin Eye. 

High on unmined hills of Kalitia, 
the gleam on Greenland under my God Star, 
I raise with bold Odyssean bravery 
world flag for United Nations of Earth 
as just sovereign over Telluria, 
this globe we share that spins in void of faith. 

Expanding Roman Empire with broad scope 
that unites Europe and America 
in peaceful nation based on liberty, 
I daydream world peace in my little home, 
safe in fairy land of Oconia, 
to build new world view from dreams of the old. 

My Empire Of Cash

My Empire Of Cash
© Surazeus
2026 01 11

Catching fish of sorrows from lake of dreams, 
I roast painful memories on brooding flames 
to analyze frame of my mental state 
that defines ontology of world fate 
in which I arrange puzzle pieces well 
as map that directs how I play my role. 

Secure in ownership of fertile land, 
which my ancestors acquired by blood bond, 
I plot complex program to construct frame 
of honest principles that lead my team 
of corporate pirates to expand cash scope 
that we employ to spring financial trap. 

Ensconced in steel-glass tower of blind wealth 
from which I exploit labor to cleanse filth, 
my seat of global power provides base 
to manage civil conflicts fired by race 
which I devise to conquer and divide 
fragile nations fractured by social creed. 

My twisted sense of liberty provides 
chance to exploit uneducated hordes 
with bait that sparks their weakness into rage 
when I hire them as goon with gun and badge 
since I am free to use men as I will 
as fools on which I build Empire of Hell. 

Invested in program of thought control, 
launched by religious clang of the church bell, 
I long conspire with faceless oligarchs 
to legislate your tax as secret perks 
that channel state funds to my bank accounts 
while defunding schools by diverting grants. 

Locking once open doors to public schools, 
with cleverly encoded mental tools, 
I block your access to knowledge of truth 
to redirect your professional path 
that restricts opportunities to work 
in factory I own by homeless park. 

Play by rules I establish with state law 
and you will earn just enough cash to play 
in bright amusement park I also own 
in oppressive social system I plan 
so you depend on jobs I deign to ploy 
that suppress your ambition safely low. 

Working hard to build my Empire of Cash, 
through company that extracts mental trash, 
I scrabble hard to rise from poverty 
through principle of social liberty 
till I control resource of fertile land 
that keeps you all bowed low under my hand. 

Broken Lyre Of Mercury

Broken Lyre Of Mercury
© Surazeus
2026 01 10

His soul lies wounded on the treeless plain 
beneath silver shimmer of boundless sky 
where one lone airplane on thin angel wings 
glides silently beyond eternity, 
so he reaches out his pain-twisted arm 
to touch soft nothingness with gentle thought. 

Clutching broken lyre to his bleeding heart, 
fractured turtle shell with splintered deer horns, 
Mercury laughs at strange absurdity 
that constitutes frantic drama of life 
when men assert their vain authority 
by beating people on the head with sticks. 

Crawling on hands and knees, bruised by false hope, 
Mercury slouches on shore of Star Lake 
and casts line with hook on the fishing rod 
to snag the wriggling demon of the deep, 
then roasts it on crackling flames of desire 
and eats sizzling white meat with hungry hope. 

Ragged rain clouds blown across purple sky 
writhe bright orange in flames of anxiety 
to cast weird glow on jagged mountain peaks 
in tune with eerie howl of ghostly wolves 
that seep into hollowness of his heart 
at peaceful solitude of nevermore. 

Expressing fierce concern of bitter angst 
through wistful melody of wavering notes, 
star-wounded Mercury wails worldless hymn 
that gleams in subtle synchronicity 
with wildly flickering beams on restless waves 
which pierce his heart with wisdom of respect. 

Startled at sudden flash of angry light 
on sharp blade of the sword aimed at his breast, 
Mercury shields his heart with turtle shell 
that he had fashioned into tuneful lyre 
so sharp blade of hate cracks lyre shell in half, 
causing Ares to stumble on his face. 

Crushing skull of the war god with sharp rock, 
Mercury defends his life from attack 
to preserve frail flesh of his soul with faith, 
then clutches broken lyre close to his heart 
and sings lamentation of honest pain 
at loss of his soul-healing instrument. 

While climbing narrow trail in pine-rugged hills 
where Mount Takoma gleams with holy light, 
I find lost broken lyre of Mercury, 
so I tune strings of dream anxiety 
and journey far from sea to shining sea 
to sing world epic of philosophers.