Read Books Backwards

Read Books Backwards
© Surazeus
2026 02 10

Ability to regulate despair 
by singing hymns my flashing brain designs 
provides foundation for excessive thought 
based on how I take responsibility 
by beaming radiant passion of my being 
to nurture spirit of my loving spouse. 

Though I transcend state of oblivion 
by striding forth with comic seriousness, 
sharp sword of ice-bitter wind penetrates 
wounded shield of my heart with obvious truth 
that I am fragile human stumbling lost 
through endless maze of myths that is our world. 

Aware of mute mephitic melancholy 
that poisons my heart with obnoxious faith, 
I read books backwards to misunderstand 
how humans hide weaknesses of their souls 
with frantic performance of sudden joy 
to misdirect attention of false friends. 

Wind blows snow off peak of the distant hill 
as I trudge slowly across sparkling field 
white is page of the book where I write spells 
to understand language of power lines 
that translate whisper of snow in sunlight 
to heart-breaking songs of romantic loss. 

I shall change my secret professor name 
to Robin Arthazar of Oregon 
for I twang lyre of Mercury with sass
to challenge gods of Academia 
who study how I run red light of fate 
and almost crash into the chariot. 

Propensity to master artistry, 
involving dexterous skill of aptitude, 
traps my attentive mind of star-chess moves 
in childish game of chase the faceless ghost, 
so I must temper adroitness of faith 
with honest prowess involving dead crows. 

Weird expertise for drawing network dreams 
provides resource of brilliant cleverness 
for how I organize masks of dead gods 
on white museum wall of diffidence 
with self-effacing passion to secure 
key to salvation for creating truth. 

Capacity to gather gems of truth 
provides foundation of marmoreal words 
for me to reassemble frame of mind 
in global puzzle of new paradigm 
I weave in tapestry of social heroes 
imprisoned in procedure of concern. 

Grand Wedding Feast

Grand Wedding Feast
© Surazeus
2026 02 10

So many snowflakes floating from the sky 
shroud the death-mangled world in silent beauty 
which gleams in silver eyes of young wolf boy 
who stands alone before angry bull man 
snarling at his intrusion on his land, 
in contest over who controls fruit trees. 

"I am Galates, ruler of these lands 
which I have named Galatia for my soul," 
young wolf boy declares with arrogant smirk, 
"for I am son of Celtus and Minerva, 
son of Celto and Hercules the brave, 
daughter of Britannus, king of the world." 

Snarling with rage at the arrogant boy, 
Tauriscus swings knotty club at his head, 
but lithe Galates avoids every blow, 
prancing all about as he somersaults 
with graceful gestures of martial defense, 
and mocks brute bull man with sneering insults. 

Walking to the lake with her retinue 
to gather apples from snow-frosted trees, 
Scythia, wearing long white fox-fur cloak, 
stops and turns at echoes of shouting voices, 
then gasps with concern when she sees harsh fight 
for power between bull man and wolf boy. 

When Tauriscus spies tall elegant princess, 
he rushes forward with vicious intent 
to abduct Scythia and make her his wife, 
so she shrinks back in paralyzed surprise 
as bull man grabs her waist with greedy hands 
and throws her over his shoulder with laughter. 

Grasping bow of Hercules with firm hand, 
who gave it to his mother at his birth, 
Galates chases bull man through the woods, 
breath puffing mist in frigid air of hope 
while they run swiftly over fields of snow, 
till Tauriscus threatens to kill the princess. 

Squeezing her neck with greedy hands of rage, 
Tauriscus shields himself behind her body, 
so sly Galates notches in yew bow 
sharp arrow he honed with stone of the moon, 
and aims bold justice at his glaring eye, 
then fires when Scythia twists herself aside. 

Holding hands with Scythia in red gown, 
Galates guides her in grand hall of pine 
that gleams on hill above Alesia, 
crowns princess bride Queen of Galatia, 
then sits with her before the congregation 
to host grand wedding feast for everyone. 

While Orpheus strums the lyre of Mercury 
and Phoebe sings Great Deeds of Hercules, 
Galates and Scythia drink red wine 
from jeweled grail, kiss with passionate love, 
then lead communal dance to celebrate 
his victory against cruel tyrant of greed. 

Children Of Brave Caliban

Children Of Brave Caliban
© Surazeus
2026 02 09

I remember when my brain was first wired 
with shocking memories of frantic escape 
from sharp-teethed monster with glowing gold eyes 
so terror of harsh pain flooded my heart 
with urgent energy of ardent hope 
that helped me escape death four million lives. 

Standing on street corner in downtown Gotham, 
Zarthus contemplates how his brain perceives 
the whole real world with complex virtual model 
complete with alarm system that detects 
danger in the form of men and machines 
so he proceeds with caution down the street. 

Four million generations of my soul 
have survived for one hundred million years 
since I was small furry mouse in the woods 
running with intense passion to survive 
till I transformed into long-legged cat 
then climbed into trees and became lithe monkey. 

Now I walk upright on two sturdy legs, 
skill I learned floating in calm ocean tides 
while dancing in electric surge of joy 
along ever-winding shore of the world, 
till I traversed whole landscape of our globe 
so I know song of every mountain river. 

Leaning against greasy telephone pole 
while eating ice cream with leather-gloved hands, 
Zarthus watches all the colorful people 
of every shape and size and type and color 
who populate our global maze of streets, 
reborn as children of brave Caliban. 

When Jupiter ruled Earth with lightning bolt, 
brass martial wand tipped with emerald blade, 
as judge of life and death on the ziggurat, 
he chose his son Phoebus as the Crown Prince, 
so Lucifer lead rebellion from pride, 
then Adam had to vote who would play God. 

Yet every god and king and emperor 
who dared play god in mortal game of power 
has rotted into dust of nothingness, 
leaving nothing but skeletons and idols 
to signify their legacy of power, 
mute and blind head of Ozymandias. 

Programmed by terror of death to survive, 
I focus attention of crafting hands 
to compose new ontological code 
expanding religious creed of old myths 
so faith includes respect for all world gods 
who glow as ghosts of mortal souls long dead. 

Awesome Realm Of Fantasy

Awesome Realm Of Fantasy
© Surazeus
2026 02 09

Extracting feelings from his rotten brain, 
David drops them in his bucket of dread, 
then grips slimy handle with frozen hands 
and slogs through muck across cold field of dreams 
to dump false memories on heap of lost myths 
so they will compost into mindless faith. 

Elevation of emotional landscape 
fluctuates with soul-quake of assumed regret, 
so David stumbles disgracefully alert 
between bouncing stones of arrogant need 
despite attempts to bind his flighty soul 
with heavy anchor of his rusting heart. 

Expecting beautiful angels of fate 
to beam before him on the broken world, 
David waits patiently while fractured time 
reassembles puzzle of fraught events 
with random linkages between strange facts, 
unrelated to shocked ache of desire. 

Exhilaration born from painful rate 
in ordered reversal of wrenched insight, 
that twists objective sense of ardency, 
sparks awake his sense of absurdity, 
so David considers how roots crush stones 
with slow accretion of secret respect. 

Expelling questions of arrowed contempt, 
that strike too deep in alphabetic gloom, 
David measures enormity of fear 
embodied by the man with thirty arms 
who mocks inverted pride of bitterness 
by making faces with devilish glee. 

Enticed by beauty of elusive truth 
that lures his progress to conserve false hope, 
David assumes he is now the lost cause 
condemned by fortune to suffer alone, 
so he slingshots laughter at Face of God 
to mimic victory of Zeus against Cronus. 

Exploring awesome realm of fantasy 
that exists nowhere but inside his own head, 
David wears crown with thirteen spikes of power 
that resembles crown of thorns Jesus wore 
to prove his claim to divine right to rule 
all the lonely people who ask for names. 

Excited by vision of blazing stars 
that flash across eternal sky of truth, 
David types code on white computer screen 
to program how brains of humanity 
will now perceive evolution of life 
through framework of our world ontology. 

Wrong Direction Home

Wrong Direction Home
© Surazeus
2026 02 08

If my emotions leave tracks in the snow 
to misdirect the tyrant from my goal 
then I will journey wrong direction home 
to fool the gang of thieves with perfect signs 
so no cruel bully driven mad by greed 
could ever predict motion of my heart. 

When I review strange journey of my life 
I realize with absolute surprise 
that I left false trail of my broken heart 
for all my loyal followers to find 
that leads them far across the smokeless hills 
where they search everywhere for sparkling rills. 

Beneath gold statue of their long dead god 
I rise with bruised knees of disabled faith 
and pluck ripe lemons from the Tree of Life 
then wander by crystal river of tears 
where Shekinah sits on glorious throne 
with crown of bright diamonds that blind my eyes. 

Flamboyant sunset of exploding eyes 
feathers clouds with glory of devil wings 
so I hug every lonely soul I love 
because they think I am Saturn reborn 
though I prefer to play Phoebus on stage 
while folding wind in pages of the book. 

Though negligence attracts the mumbling ghost 
who tries to play wise counselor for me 
I shun the shining face of Robot God 
to save myself from agony of truth 
when I accept grand prize of global fame 
that crushes weak souls into followers. 

I hold sweet names of flowers in my heart 
to wander home with the delicate dead 
who hail spring beauty of the hungry queen, 
unhindered by huge clouds of glowing eyes 
that gaze with love at trees of stoic grief 
which bleed sweet syrup of arousing pride. 

Each stubbornly hopeful child of the world 
carries basket of herbs on street of gold 
to sit in circle of companionship 
beneath the constellated chandelier 
and share strange story of their wretched life 
contrived by random events outside myth. 

I step in every river more than once 
though material waterdrops of their flow 
exchanges content of conceptual thought 
despite strange wishes of the Glitter Ghost 
who lives unblemished life of languid lust 
since all we know is delusion of hope. 

Free Land Of Yaskonia

Free Land Of Yaskonia
© Surazeus
2026 02 08

Escaping cruel thugs of the police state, 
Heyhlamas travels northwest on winding roads 
to snow-frosted land of mountains and lakes 
where he stops along Yellowhead Highway 
and stares amazed at Yehaihaskun Mountain 
that shimmers bright with stripes of black and white. 

"Here I shall found new empire of my heart," 
Heyhlamas proclaims to eagles and bears, 
"which I shall name Yaskonia to replace 
British Columbia, imposed by invaders, 
as declaration of our sovereignty, 
free from greedy exploiters of the east." 

Climbing halfway up the striped rugged cliff, 
Heyhlamas carves cave from darkness of fear 
where he finds bright spirit of Manitou 
gleaming in enormous diamond of fate, 
so he reigns with justice and liberty 
over peaceful land of Yaskonia. 

While gathering nuts and berries in pine woods 
to cook nutritious meal for energy, 
wise mountain emperor with moon-black eyes 
encounters giant woman with long hair 
tangled with bones of demons and kings 
who whispers to red raven on her shoulder. 

When army of tanks invade mountain vales 
to impose dictatorship of King Midas 
on lush fertile lands of Yaskonia, 
Mother Dzunukwa grabs them with large hands 
and hurls them far into the Salish Sea 
where they transform into Mikinaak turtles. 

Inviting Kwan Yin, Lakshmi, and Athena, 
Heyhlamas convenes World Council of Sibyls 
who protect free land of Yaskonia 
from powerful states of Telluria, 
safe from tyranny of corporate kings 
hungry to mine minerals from her hills. 

Inviting with open arms of respect, 
Heyhlamas welcomes homeless refugees 
who flee civil wars in America 
and many other lands around the world, 
to dwell free in land of Yaskonia 
where every human lives with equal rights. 

While dictators and kings in many lands 
exploit work of their people to steal wealth, 
people in free land of Yaskonia 
dwell together in peaceful paradise 
based on justice and liberty for all 
in vision Heyhlamas dreams in his cave. 

Facile Force Of Fate

Facile Force Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 02 08

If we ignore how our tears drown the world 
with cheerful anecdotes of weird success 
we might find ancient mask of innocence 
in gloomy evening of the silent house 
by counting raindrops streaming down cracked glass 
which seem to represent people we love. 

If we must think about empowerment 
by running across shifting sands of change 
we should assess treasures from cabarets 
that we inherit without ache of need 
so we may fashion better way to live 
beyond confusion of hypocrisy. 

If we escape cage of bewilderment 
with shining faces of gods we could steal 
we may dispel deception of the state 
that preys on us with facile force of fate 
by choosing who plays prophet of our creed 
though trapped in shadow of the global church. 

If we sell bread of hope to lonely souls 
who wander in the signless neighborhood 
we might learn how to fish for compliments 
that we can roast on flames of poverty 
while we adore the new celebrity 
who gives us cans of food we cannot eat. 

If we think we are not responsible 
for safety of our stolen relatives 
we cannot sell torn tickets to the game 
because we lost the key to global fame 
so we extinguish smoldering fears of death 
to sell our luggage in the marketplace. 

If we presume to be more innocent 
without insurance to back up our claim 
we should suspect the holy priest of fraud 
who sells us tickets to the afterlife 
that we leave scattered on the desert sand 
as we keep searching for the Promised Land. 

If we try to improve our attitude 
by waiving all our inalienable rights 
we may have to fight for rotten respect 
because we are the lost cause of the world 
detained by secret police without eyes 
who accuse us all of being foreign spies. 

If we divine state of our bankruptcy 
through gleam of trophies on the sagging shelf 
we could buy forty acres by the sea 
where proud grandfather clock of broken time 
records each penalty we cannot pay 
by burning family albums just at dawn. 

Civil War In Cyberspace

Civil War In Cyberspace
© Surazeus
2026 02 08

Staring out the kitchen window at dawn, 
Martin wonders if his life has been real, 
or if his memories are fragments of shows 
he saw on television in childhood, 
which his mind composed from various tropes 
to present himself as hero of fate. 

Driving car on crowded highway of hope, 
Martin considers possibility 
that he is not first son of Bob and Kate, 
that he is some manufactured android 
programmed with memories his maker designed 
from home movies about his son who drowned. 

Gasping for breath in wild waves of the sea, 
Martin swims away from the sinking ship, 
smashed by the white whale of the dark abyss, 
till he lies exhausted on beach of sand, 
then wanders in dark forest of blind ghosts 
to drink fresh water from small bubbling spring. 

Typing bold words on bright computer screen, 
Martin transcribes company documents 
to digital format for the Space Age, 
yet dares not daydream he pilots starship 
on five-year mission to explore deep space 
and go where no android has gone before. 

Drinking beer with college classmates at night, 
Martin declares with confidential smirk 
that his real name, as Android Eight Mark Four, 
is Nitram, mirror image of his soul, 
then staggers home in darkness of the world 
to sleep all night on the library porch. 

Transforming from human to demi-god, 
Martin extends one hundred thousand arms, 
and blinks awake with eighty million eyes 
inside the minds of all his relatives 
who walk around the Earth in mute surprise, 
when he ascends as Nitrama to Heaven. 

Transcending physical limits of being, 
Nitrama floats above the turning world 
on flowing fibers of angelic wings 
while watching humans live their futile lives 
as they fight civil war in cyberspace 
over true nature of America. 

Sitting on the couch with his girlfriend Grace, 
Martin watches the World Superbowl Game 
and cheers when his favorite team wins the trophy, 
then stands at the fractured window of time 
and feels his god-spirit Nitrama float 
too big to contain the world in his head. 

Opposing States Of Mind

Opposing States Of Mind
© Surazeus
2026 02 07

Every soul on Earth can see the same moon 
vibrant with carnelian glow of brain quartz 
as we dance with faith in strawberry fields 
to comfort lost souls on the windy plain, 
so I cannot feel lonely in my home 
when I can see your faces in its mask. 

My restless eyes shift up toward mirror skies 
to see electric energy of minds 
employ brave perseverance to perceive 
star-focused landscape of questioning hearts 
which sparks aspirant curiosity 
encoded in bold mission to the stars. 

Through cosmic contradiction of our faith 
we comprehend opposing states of mind 
as mirror images reflecting clear 
both aspects of each complex circumstance 
conditioned by global state of affairs 
so we build castle from hard blocks of ice. 

With furtive glance of cautious interest 
I shout into vast void of innocence 
while standing on Mount Carmel before noon 
to eat the poisoned fruit of haughty hope 
which cures depression of anxiety 
so I know why the caged bird is dead. 

Though fallen from bright Heaven of respect 
on tattered wings of comfortable despair 
I walk beside dark sea of nonchalance 
to clear my heart of soul-wounding fatigue 
by cultivating calm aesthetic mood 
which fuels my brave ascension beyond fear. 

Fertile landscape of our generous world 
is filled with people wounded by their pride, 
trapped by ambition of time-spiraled hearts 
to play ecstatic receiver of love, 
palpable with angst of harrowing hope 
no more inevitable than sunrise. 

Far down dark passage I will never take 
toward door I never open till I die 
I follow echo ringing beyond time 
to twirl on still point of the multiverse 
since I follow deception of the crow 
who teaches me to sing with dignity. 

Though I cannot say where I always am 
I weave weakness of my body with pain 
so I gain courage to endure long hours 
when I expand scope of my consciousness 
to dream the future present in the past 
till I may reconcile with nothingness. 

Impact Of Modal Verse

Impact Of Modal Verse
© Surazeus
2026 02 07

Articulation of conceptual thought 
through modalities of image and sound 
motivates heart of Luke with weird insight 
to navigate complex landscape of truth 
by crafting virtual vision of our world 
that connects passive viewer to the seer. 

Impactful statement of the portrait sears 
assertive code of emotional truth 
to bridge linguistic gap of writhing words 
between the artist and their audience 
by sparking private connection of hope 
within broad cultural framework of desire. 

Intellectual impact of modal verse 
echoes proverbial jokes of social change 
based on transcendent principles of love 
that lights our journey beyond simple myths 
through complex maze of ambiguous facts 
in large-scale exhibition of strange tales. 

Process of engaging multiple layers, 
that support opposing concepts of truth, 
through non-linear installations of scenes, 
guides Luke across political landscape 
as character in national tapestry 
woven from our human experience. 

Depictions designed by mad fools present 
natural, rural, and urban environments 
through digital landscape of photographs 
where Luke explores modalities of truth 
with image of divine authority 
preserved in gesture of dream-tangled text. 

Abstract creeds of grand ideologies 
form critical structure from fractured states 
based on accessible puzzles of fate 
through sensory experience of pleasure 
so Luke interprets song of ocean waves 
which translates nodes of psychic energy. 

Diverse methods of expression enhance 
impactful progress of remembering 
when Luke conspires with personalities 
he finds lost deep in mordent maze of myths 
to finetune resonance of social tropes 
that help us navigate emotional states. 

Physical context of critical thought 
extracts raw concepts from cave of illusions 
so Luke converts soul-wounding angst to love 
through alchemical transference of fear 
to mold verbal container for dream wraiths 
who writhe rooted in semiotic trance. 

Helpless Fantasy Of Wealth

Helpless Fantasy Of Wealth
© Surazeus
2026 02 07

Irrational residue of vibrant matter 
contracts through sentences of phony words 
which resonate with blackness of the night 
based on virtual reality of thoughts 
we sell each other in dark alleyways 
while leaning on the chain-link fence of faith. 

Each morning we wake up stronger than hope 
by sealing midnight pain with almost love 
despite expressive stones of ardency 
contained in familiar story untold 
about how society breaks in bands 
who dwell unpeacefully in dead-end towns. 

Heroic figures straddle tallest clouds 
to scatter coins of water on our heads 
while we watch prophet of the fallen god 
wrestle vainly in fields of rotten wheat 
where characters from stories never read 
wither with helpless fantasy of wealth. 

Awake on our wedding night, I explain 
how sorrow burns beautiful hearts to glass, 
deeper than inability to talk 
about violence half-seen in dim woods 
where noble warriors get caught in traps 
yet yell at houses with exploding doors. 

Clever belief system of structured facts 
intrigues hungry gangs of wandering clowns 
who insist they are hunters of the heart 
though biographies they scribble with blood 
are thrown on junkheap of religious faith 
beneath great mountain carved with face of God. 

Alert to sudden truth of angry kings, 
she spreads her arms out to the fractured sky 
that disappears in tone of screaming trees 
with courage to oppose the police state 
that imitates how Heaven controls minds 
based on progress of economic games. 

Through unilateral breath of holy law 
our car mechanic memorizes jokes 
encoding principles of moral tricks 
which illustrate our failure and success 
despite dissatisfaction shared by all 
concerning state of illusion we flee. 

Gorgeous fortune never favors the bold 
for superfluous gears programming time 
since we must accept emotional traps 
which we present as the true way we live 
supported by traditions mothers mend 
through symbiosis of our pageless book. 

Certified Clown Of Faith

Certified Clown Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 02 07

Seven million years after my first birth 
I ask the shadow tree of flashing clocks 
how to find the Whirlpool of the God Eye 
so I can jump worlds through the multiverse 
in quest for garden where you are the one 
I would choose to weave my destiny with. 

I am only one of billions on Earth 
reluctant to close my heart with faith locks 
in case my spirit swells huge as the sky 
though commissioned to play my part as nurse 
healing innocence wounded by the gun 
contrived to celebrate my life as myth. 

Eager to gain legal acknowledgement 
for calculating chemistry of hope, 
I craft component for each curious scene 
in which I play certified clown of faith, 
designed to integrate mineral brains 
based on mutation of logical code. 

Weird assumption of social argument, 
sealed with triode rate in my envelope, 
presents elective destiny to mean 
extraction proves my birthright as the wraith 
assigned to maintain engines of mind planes 
we fly with fuel of visions from the toad. 

Embedded lectures are not guaranteed 
to nourish formal principles of fate, 
so we buy life insurance from the spy 
who always seems to know what integer 
we need to maximize our profit gain 
required by soul mechanics of desire. 

Modified concept of my puzzling creed 
converts opposite patterns from blind hate 
through mechanics of medicinal why 
to published prototype of Lucifer 
I wear as mask in effort to be vain 
with reference to harmony of the choir. 

Mystery programmed in our life narrative 
presents migration of relevant tribes 
regarding ransom notes for refugees 
who seek salvation through false privacy 
managed well by our solemn treasurer 
who requires that I update my world view. 

Religious beliefs far less cognitive 
deliver customized faith with proud vibes 
based on dynamics of sad adoptees 
who choose to live with brave efficiency 
through deviant loyalty to Jupiter 
who chooses Venus for our rendezvous. 

Fractured Globe Of Ghosts

Fractured Globe Of Ghosts
© Surazeus
2026 02 06

Winter brightness blinks from core of my soul 
with closed alacrity of searing glints 
that wrench my freckled happiness with fear 
since hour I first reach out my helpless hands 
for mother of mankind to lift me high 
though I revise my memory with hope. 

Before I fall from complicated choice 
to measure future success with tree limbs, 
I drag withered bag of my punctured pride 
across heat-withered yard of honesty 
that leaves chunks of my memories behind 
which I collect and stew in pot of dreams. 

Adjusting tone of fierce anxiety 
with evening darkness of sequestered thought, 
I name each faceless ghost I meet with number 
to honor stars that blaze across the sky 
and smash our world view into smithereens 
so we remember why we are not born. 

Frost on the window glass of memory 
refracts clear light of wisdom bent to faith 
by severed sighs of wordless desperation 
which I would package with symbols of fate 
to understand how ice erases death 
each time I wake with arrogant surprise. 

So this is how I deconstruct your truth 
from mocking laughter of the greedy priest 
with rooted pleasure to expose your hate 
for everybody on this world but you, 
which leaves us stunned on threshold of world change 
beneath new arch of triumph stained with blood. 

Blurred flicker-flash of my immortal soul 
appears on both sides of the door at once 
with leaping fracture twisted by contempt 
when I cross field of alabaster skulls 
to visit every variant of our world 
till I find paradise unlost on Earth. 

Half sunk in ardent lake of hungry hope, 
I beam electric sparkles through my bones 
because this world should be more beautiful 
though countless creatures have died miserably 
over four hundred million years of lust 
to dominate this fractured globe of ghosts. 

I teach my children secret of this world, 
that we are driven by desire to breed 
new children who incarnate soul of genes, 
yet worship people who succeed as gods, 
dream guides who show us how to kill to live 
because we eat sweet sorrows of our hearts. 

Healed By Cassandra

Healed By Cassandra
© Surazeus
2026 02 06

Heart twisted by sweet laughter of the sea, 
who gives her wrecked ships full of long-lost hopes, 
Hilda brings mass of violets from the marsh, 
tufted with pungent soil in tangled roots, 
to haunt men cluttered in their wave-tossed ships, 
breaking their taut hearts with lies of their thoughts. 

She plans to make disciples of all nations, 
so they can lounge on decks of sinking ships, 
while eating hamburgers and chocolate bars, 
and listen to calm sons of Frankenstein 
play violins and trumpets with pizzazz 
while rich people from bankrupt estates drown. 

Opening her bloody mouth of shark teeth, 
Hilda explains with confident discourse 
that the gold crown with pointed spikes kings wear 
represents the crown of thorns Jesus wore 
while hanging crucified on the phone pole 
as he sings, "Look on the bright side of life." 

Wielding eye-phone as sword Excalibur, 
Hilda photographs leagues of wind-blown sand 
because she loves how little ridges curve 
as great waves of time break over our plans 
and wipe out our empires with calm respect, 
then posts them on her social media site. 

Breaking out beyond the crowded town gate, 
to escape precinct of the temple hall 
where marble statue of Artemis cracks, 
Hilda wanders up cold path of the stream 
on unclaimed stretches of bleak mountain slopes 
to secret altar in the alder grove. 

Leaving Phoebus to his sheltering porch 
of white marble, luminous with his logic 
applied to system of the market game, 
Hilda tries not to think about his eyes 
blue as the restless sea after fierce storm 
that drives her in the cave of lonely toads. 

Far from strident business of shipping ports, 
in jeweled cave among towering pines, 
Hilda breathes mountain air of wild desire, 
and sings enchanting hymn to Artemis 
against rhythms of sycophantic priests 
who try to trap her in garden of walls. 

Ship-wrecked on rough shores of Arcadia, 
Hilda hides from angelic helicopters 
to run with wolves among luminous trees 
far from hard temples of powerful wealth, 
to nurse her bitter heart with fruit of faith, 
healed by Cassandra with voice of the wraith. 

Return To The Blank Room

Return To The Blank Room
© Surazeus
2026 02 05

John wakes up when Fate knocks on his fake door 
with polite insistence of the wet towel 
so he argues with cracked cup at the sink 
while history drips on germ-infested floor 
with calm regret for leaving the burned book 
on the bench in the park where small frogs think. 

Eating eggs and sausage smeared with vain sauce 
at wobbly table set with common sense, 
John thinks about the girl with long red hair 
who never will wave from the train he missed, 
then awkwardly tangles his trench coat on, 
and wears bowler he forgot in the bar. 

Certain he will return to the blank room 
sooner or later with ashamed respect 
for trembling body that Death passes by, 
John thinks about the time he kissed her cheek 
beneath the streetlamp that judges his failure, 
concerned the moon clocks out before his time. 

If we will become briefly infinite, 
despite the way typewriters erase truth 
with holy racket of the gangster code, 
John chooses to believe with wounded heart 
that Tomorrow will forgive our worst sins, 
though Fate records our deeds with broken pencil. 

Since love says nothing about jokes he tells, 
which not even cruel laughter can erase, 
John decides that is the trick of brave faith, 
so he leaves unpolished shoes by the bed 
which walk away while he is fast asleep 
and visits the graveyard where no one lies. 

Arranging numbers in accounting books 
with professional focus of sharp puzzles, 
John misplaces his soul in the bookstore 
where he has never been before the fall, 
forever alone just outside the door 
where he cannot hear her voice in the glass. 

When John hums sad tune of Amazing Grace 
even Death leans in to listen with hope 
though he always gets the simple tune wrong, 
so he sells record of his latest hit 
to Death who breaks it on rock of salvation 
because lyric truth makes him want to cry. 

Because the moon measures passage of time 
in harmony with fast typewriter dance, 
John decides time is sequence of weird words 
that keep arriving with permissive shock 
at vastness from the silent pause of faith 
between each knock that Death raps on his door. 

Door To The Dream World

Door To The Dream World
© Surazeus
2026 02 05

Standing on round table of aging knights, 
Sarmentus shouts with serpent voice of pride 
that worthy men rise up from poverty 
through brave assertion of creative work 
to push through golden doors of elite clubs 
and claim their place at feast table of power. 

What more should humble men of farms endure 
when they perform before greed-bloated king 
to prove inalienable right to exist 
when Herod mocks their country bumpkin talk 
and forces kind Sarmentus with harsh sneer 
to crawl on hands and knees, and bark for food. 

After escaping from gold feasting hall, 
body and mind scarred by brutal abuse, 
Sarmentus stumbles to the River Styx 
where he cleanses sorrow from broken heart, 
then lies on his back beneath sparkling stars 
to remember his brave father Orion. 

Startled from reverie on the river shore, 
Sarmentus sees appear through grove of elms 
graceful Diana with yew bow and arrows 
glide on winged feet over rugged hill, 
long gold hair flowing in cool river breeze, 
while her favorite dog ambles by her side. 

Running along with the swift moon-eyed hunter, 
Sarmentus offers assistance to bear 
with strong arms in wagon of his calm heart 
game she dispatches with accurate aim, 
and though at first she seems annoyed with him 
lithe wood-leaper soon appreciates his help. 

Relaxed in small temple among oak trees, 
Diana rests while Egeria combs her hair, 
Virbius roasts deer steak on the cooking altar, 
and Sarmentus fletches arrows with care, 
binding points he sharpens with focused skill, 
as she peeks at his chest through half-closed eyes. 

Embracing separate bodies in moonlight, 
Diana and Sarmentus merge two souls 
in one romantic blend of gentle faith 
to writhe entangled with attentive trust 
till they transcend bounds of all time and space 
and she becomes pregnant with their love child. 

Suckling baby Janus in gentle arms, 
Diana sings soft lullaby of love 
while gazing in both pairs of curious eyes, 
then Sarmentus teaches his two-faced son 
how to navigate endless maze of myths 
where he stands guard at door to the dream world. 

River Of Dream Keys

River Of Dream Keys
© Surazeus
2026 02 04

Rather than eat the ocean stone of faith, 
while thinking about black milk of the Earth, 
I prefer to become the first apple seed 
that dares to crack the asphalt parking lot 
where holy angels park cars to attend 
church service in glass cathedral of lies. 

Jealous that I found secret jewel mine 
from which I extract wisdom of star gods, 
the faithful servants of the Lord attempt 
to chain my hands in dungeon of despair, 
but I am subtle whisper of the breeze 
that dances on the river of dream keys. 

After selling ice cream to Tantalus 
and soothing hand lotion to Sisyphus, 
Socrates attends the Rolling Stone show 
to dance with wild abandon of the fool 
because he is in love with Hecate 
who brews wine in cavern of innocence. 

Despite regret for beheading the seer 
who prophesied his fall from mental grace, 
King Herod sends goon squad with guns of hate 
to chase immigrants out of paradise, 
so Phoebus builds ark of the covenant 
to sail home on the river of dream keys. 

Forgetful how he came to rule the world, 
the Weeping Jester of Wohalia 
paints portrait of grand eagle on tall pine 
with noble bearing of angelic power, 
then calls Rapunzel in her prison tower 
who listens to him talk about the truth. 

Nobody knows why men kill other men, 
invading valley of the laughing skull 
with principle of faith to colonize 
Garden of Eden with new shopping malls 
where gangsters fight battles for thought control 
over who owns the river of dream keys. 

In our search for freedom in the woke world, 
programmed by urgent need to evade death, 
we give each other fake holiday gifts 
with preciously obscene anguish of love 
while staring at rose window in the church 
that slants conceptual truth with psychic heft. 

Though Jesus Christ will never come again 
because his mortal body is now dust, 
brave spirit of Good Leader he embodied 
appears each generation in the world 
to free the people from cruel tyranny 
so we fish on the river of dream keys. 

Erase My Secret Name

Erase My Secret Name
© Surazeus
2026 02 04

Stuck alone between the heart and the mind, 
floating in the river that swirls nowhere, 
I laugh at how often crows call my name 
as if they know how I feel about love, 
so I explain to them, nothing is real, 
but they insist on giving me mushrooms. 

My brain receives signals from singing trees 
that beam flashes of emotions in code, 
so I listen closely with attuned ears, 
but I cannot understand what they say 
though I fold my hands and attempt to pray 
as I reply with caws wild crows express. 

Clouds glow gold on horizon of my hope 
so I reach out my hand to touch their thoughts 
but I feel nothing since I am so small, 
no more than speck of dust in the vast world, 
no more than drop of water in the sea, 
though I feel the whole world inside of me. 

Electric buzz of frantic arrogance 
jolts suddenly through fail frame of my being, 
so I scream loud to crack the crystal sky 
till my voice vanishes through everywhere, 
which leaves me stranded on the roadless globe, 
laughing at how significant I feel. 

I write my thoughts in letters on the scroll 
that form words linked in writhing sentences 
to bundle flashing concepts in tight pack 
containing huge vision in fractured jars 
yet strange emotions leak out through its cracks 
so I feel confused what I really feel. 

When I sing weird emotions of my heart 
in structured patterns of conceptual thoughts 
defining rapture that expands clear scope 
involved in conscious vision of my mind, 
I feel confident my insight is clear, 
yet people stare at me, then mock my song. 

I wonder with surprise of muted shock 
what alien language outside their purview 
I must be using to express my thoughts 
that no one seems to understand my truth, 
mocking me with vicious sneers of contempt, 
though I sing with beautiful voice of faith. 

Perhaps I should erase my secret name, 
Elijah, from book of the bleeding crow, 
but when cruel people throw stones at my head 
I bat them away with my magic wand, 
then stand before tower of the mad king 
and expose his crimes with dire prophecy. 

Invent Fractured Identities

Invent Fractured Identities
© Surazeus
2026 02 03

I telephone absent friends who are dead 
because eyeless birds are answering machines 
whose eyes of wisdom set the world ablaze 
though I ardently desire to transform 
beyond definition of the sad clown 
who wants to make people laugh as they cry. 

My memories flock across the burning sky 
as ravens searching for the Promised Land 
which I design with perfidy of faith 
through penchant for supple tonalities 
I share with blood-stained angels who detest 
men who abuse people with selfish greed. 

Stymied by corruption of sterile greed, 
my quest to free the world from cage of hope 
persists against iniquities of bombs 
which I encode with riddles of respect 
in constitution of progressive pride 
through checks and balances of honesty. 

Determined to settle colonial scores 
through dispensation of the frightened clerk, 
I sharpen schizophrenic knife of truth 
between discourse of brave equality 
and double-talk of arbitrary power 
based on practice of plundering pure prayers. 

I constantly question the lyric I 
through careful ridicule of structured cost 
by undermining pride of calm concern 
based on writhing analysis of truth 
that shimmers with ethereal travesty 
since I invent fractured identities. 

Amused they crucify the robot clown, 
I host peace conference of global fate 
on holy island of the prison camp 
where bankers play chess with peasants and fools 
when they negotiate fraught settlement 
between opposing gangs of hungry thieves. 

King of the most reviled pariah state, 
I give nicknames to everyone I meet 
when I convince them unicorns are real 
as vibrant shadows of our bleeding hearts 
who steal light of our complex legacy 
by selling cynical doubts to believers. 

Reptilian tears of biographic myth 
reveal entitled right to eat ripe fruit 
that falls from twisted limbs of power poles 
from which hang voiceless lines for telephones 
because we dream of worthless paradise 
while climbing hills in seasons out of time. 

Declare Myself Uncitizen

Declare Myself Uncitizen
© Surazeus
2026 02 03

Straight over broken rocks of rugged hills 
toward azure infinity of the sea 
I walk across Thasos Island at noon 
to join Staphylus in his wicked dance 
for mocking small kings who think they are gods 
though they are hidden in towers of glass. 

My heart spurts blood on barbarian land 
to cleanse attentive angst of thought control 
while soaring wingless across the last sky 
which gains finality beyond exile 
by wrenching free from cubicles of gold 
before blind gods expel me from their myths. 

Since I lost interest in the shining world 
based on supreme fiction of global fame, 
I stand mute on stage bathed in dusty light, 
perched equidistant between East and West 
to map topography of broken minds 
crushed by bland forces of conformity. 

Thus I declare myself Uncitizen 
of every crowded country on the Earth, 
accomplished emblem of democracy 
since I transcend strict borders of the state 
as psychic chameleon with many names 
detached from national greatness of pride. 

I dwell in Middle Earth of shifting tones, 
devalued by elite crowd of the state 
as parrot nomad of the mapless mind 
till I return to my ancestral land 
disguised as savior of humanity, 
trapped by principles of the Underground. 

As the most dangerous public enemy 
who established network of terrorists 
I paint cute demons in the holy book 
with pretty faces of celebrities 
while imprisoned in legend of my fate 
where I watch angels hanged by the world state. 

Threatened by otherness of common folk, 
proud haughty butcher of the twisted tree 
builds walls of Aparthood as paradise 
enclosing special people inside fear 
who buy and sell identity with gold 
melted from skull of Ozymandias. 

Awake at edge of our pulsating world, 
we live in dark times of our poisoned pride 
as sparks streaking vaults of eternity 
to annotate our victories on church walls 
with Voice of the People they crucify 
till Staphylus gives me glass of sour wine.