Raven Quill Of Faith

Raven Quill Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 11 09

Amazed at beauty of this messy world, 
I write my dreams with raven quill of faith 
so they sprout wings and fly in glowing clouds 
which leaves me wandering in the Brooding Wood 
where children of my body never born 
leap around me and mock me till I laugh. 

Annoyed at suffering people must endure, 
I code weird spells with raven quill of faith 
to reprogram how our brains perceive the world 
of complex forms, composed of molecules, 
through scientific framework that predicts 
effects resulting from proactive cause. 

Inspired by pleasure we experience, 
I weave new myths with raven quill of faith 
to name the humble people of our world, 
who perform daily rituals with calm hope, 
as heroes whose deeds support global state 
which nurtures every person with brave love. 

Confused by cruel lie of the afterlife, 
I design creed with raven quill of faith 
that describes with accurate formulas 
essential nature of atomic change 
transforming bodies of quick chemicals 
through vibrant radiance of our conscious minds. 

Entranced by mercurial music of fear, 
I compose tunes with raven quill of faith 
that spark Prime Ghost at heart of spinning Earth 
with potent passion of firm self-control 
which channels flash of electricity 
through spiral coil of genes inside my brain. 

Enriched by wisdom children sing in play, 
I draft star hall with raven quill of faith 
from architectural concept of the brain 
enwoven in clusters of galaxies 
that aggregate zillions of globes with life 
as God Soul glowing in organic brains. 

Alarmed by laughter of gods in glass banks, 
I sketch Star Queen with raven quill of faith 
whose soul embodies spirit of respect, 
bright shining with compassion of her heart, 
when we vote for her to rule as seer of trust 
global institution of thought control. 

Amused by haughty pride of greedy fools, 
I craft great law with raven quill of faith 
that guarantees equal justice for all 
so we live as we will, if we harm none, 
since we design our fate with every choice 
that we express through psychic verse of love. 

Triumph Of Calm Emptiness

Triumph Of Calm Emptiness
© Surazeus
2026 11 09

I float awake on river of the dawn 
with savage avarice of holy faith 
urging me to emulate lust of light 
that ravishes my soul with eerie tunes 
of water rippling with splendor of love 
that swells compassion from my aching heart. 

How often my astonished heart awakes 
from shocking tenderness of flashing waves 
when I emerge from absolute despair 
to watch bright laurel leaves of innocence 
mimic dominance of butterfly wings 
that lift me far above this heavy shore. 

Shocked by serene exaltation of wind 
that whispers ancient knowledge in tree leaves, 
I seek arcane meaning of pulsing fruit 
that helps me remember names of the dead 
whose faces shimmer on the morning moon 
at bleak dominion of enchanted snow. 

Asserting triumph of calm emptiness, 
embraced by beauty of the absolute, 
my heart ascends on wings of victory 
at voiceless sorrow of brave endurance 
since I abide in loneness of the all 
that wraps my nothingness in shapeless whole. 

Taut string of math-empowered particles, 
defined by strict relationship of thought 
to sensuous enchantment of bright rain, 
vibrates with solid waves of ardency 
through sacrament of misunderstood spells 
that bears us on river of divine love. 

With intimate attention to sound waves 
on which our souls of desire undulate, 
we abandon hope to intricate flow 
that deconstructs rhymed meter of regret 
so we identify with ache of love 
that marks each phase of passion we transcend. 

Enchanted by strange spell of melody 
that reassembles fragments of our dreams 
from phantasmagoria of intense love 
through spiritual integrity we share, 
our bodies pulse with corresponding truths 
that bloom inside vast hollow of the heart. 

We move with majestic uncertainty 
through sensual curtains of absurdity 
to spark ambition of brave energy 
so we transcend all mountains of desire 
when we attain perfection of respect 
to row boat of faith past oblivion. 

Veiled By Beautiful Lies

Veiled By Beautiful Lies
© Surazeus
2026 11 09

We follow strict routes of our daily lives 
with our wild minds veiled by beautiful lies, 
Tristan declares with flame-hot meteor voice, 
so we create our fate with every choice 
when we exercise force of our free will 
that always leads me to apple tree hill. 

Two men with guns follow his fading trail 
with earnest intention to never fail 
when they set out to capture faceless ghost 
who relives drama of Paradise Lost 
by limping wounded on the dusty plain 
after leaping from the fast-moving train. 

Gray shadow of his first featureless face 
gleams on television screen without trace 
since he becomes the new romantic horse 
who trains forty years to master the Force, 
then goes on mission to defeat the clown 
who steals gold version of the thorny crown. 

Turning the large glass television off, 
Tristan decides to ignore mocking scoff 
expressed by painted warrior on the wall, 
then floats outside at the wild raven call 
that shatters silence of the Texas heat 
radiating from fence-wired fields of wheat. 

Walking routes of his summer afternoon, 
Tristan passes red-brick church of the moon 
where thieves in suits calculate cash they scam 
from faithful believers in the I Am 
who hides in glow-clouds with nothing to say 
to wounded people who desperately pray. 

Building starship shaped like plastic pen cap, 
Tristan soars swiftly to escape the trap 
set by the power-obsessed god Voltar, 
while riding in the red Volkswagen car 
to swim with elves in the dam-informed lake 
where he suddenly becomes more awake. 

Observing quotidian nature of hope, 
through which we find simple methods to cope, 
Tristan draws weird image of the next phase 
our bodies may evolve to map the maze 
where he evades cruel demons in foul mood 
to live safely free in the Brooding Wood. 

Resurrected with soul of Lazarus, 
Tristan flies far on wings of Icarus 
so he can play grand role of Lucifer 
while wearing crystal mask of Jupiter 
when he journeys from ruins of Babylon 
to build world empire from lush Oregon. 

Anthology Of Dream Code

Anthology Of Dream Code
© Surazeus
2026 11 08

Whatever I inherit from the dead 
transforms into books no one wants to read, 
so I decide to walk the neighborhood 
which always puts me in a better mood 
to edit anthology of dream code 
dictated to me by the moon-eyed toad. 

Entranced by beauty of the river stone, 
that glimmers as heart of the princess clone, 
I scrub my wounded heart till it seems clean 
as polished steel gears of the time machine, 
but all my efforts seem to be in vain 
when pages of my books dissolve in rain. 

Transcendent zero woven from dream math 
reformulates fortune spilled by sweet wrath 
from secret agony of mindless faith 
designed by mirror wisdom of the wraith 
who still decides that I resemble both 
thief and giver, tricked to accept my oath. 

Defunded program of the psychic lab 
provides training for soul-painters who dab 
enough paint to depict our spinning globe, 
ruled by star woman in long scarlet robe 
who conquers Heaven with the howling mob, 
then appoints me as provincial nawab. 

When I transfer bright spirit of the star 
to possess computer of the quick car, 
my mother gets stuck in the kitchen door, 
so I find Cailleach on the misty moor 
who teaches me how to manage my fear 
when I enter Salem on the White Deer. 

After I explore Earth in crystal boat 
to trade magic ring for the prancing goat, 
I compose formula to calculate 
progressive way to design my own fate 
through each decision, whether wrong or right, 
that I make to enhance my divine light. 

Cleansing my soul in the waterfall 
that binds my body through electric ball, 
I encode secret of life in weird spell 
that conjures serpent runes from the brain well 
so I climb sunbaked peak of the skull hill 
where I insist on process of free will. 

Just as I think I understand the mind, 
that functions to reveal truth to the blind, 
I find myself unfound in Wonderland 
with Melusine who wears our wedding band 
which proves her right to rule our crowded land 
that flourishes from gesture of the hand. 

Always Voyage To Cythera

Always Voyage To Cythera
© Surazeus
2026 11 08

I wish I could find solace in how waves 
extract sharp thorn of sorrow from my heart 
yet leaves me bleeding on beach of despair 
so I wonder what words mean anymore 
as I spiral in vast abyss of stars 
what whisper thoughts of time-expanding hope. 

Grass consumes frail bodies of dead ghosts 
whose hands engrave their names on temple walls 
where vultures feast on the sacrificed god 
since Destiny is shaper of the Will 
through choices we express in devious words 
that trap us tangled in our fantasies. 

Complex creed of our socialized beliefs 
are bright illusions of our blinded eyes 
that guide our steps along the rocky shores 
of furious islands in fabulous seas 
where shipwrecked refugees build world empire 
on tale of the girl who steals fruit from snakes. 

Stuck as demon in the windowless realm 
of my imagination without walls, 
I wear gold mask of the sacrificed god 
to play his role in pageant of our state 
till snow-capped volcano explodes in flames 
that unravel secrets of dreamless brains. 

Thus I always voyage to Cythera 
where Sirens dance in sudden flash of rain 
so I can shelter in the temple hall 
since glass typewriter of Orpheus waits 
for me to chronicle current events 
through complex account of our search for truth. 

Across infinitude of stable air 
I dare explore realm of false parables 
with stubborn honesty woven from pain 
till I know myself as frail human being 
whose heart reflects in mirror of my eyes 
concept of God people project at me. 

White blood on tearless stones of honesty 
reveals source of torrential attitude 
that fuels my journey to the Promised Land 
where I rebuild grand temple of the god 
whose name is lost from books of history 
except as shadow on the grass at dawn. 

Groomed mightier than death from ecstasy, 
my heart is canonized by myth of love 
when I become the heavenless undone 
by grim assertion death requires I prove, 
so I float nameless in slow surging tide 
till wings of Icarus grow from my heart. 

Dizzy Absolute Of Why

Dizzy Absolute Of Why
© Surazeus
2026 11 08

In empty houses where nothing takes place, 
people wanting to play heroes in tales, 
carved on mountain cliffs with demonic claws, 
move back and forth in tandem with the clock 
that unwinds nuclear laughter of dead hearts 
who wait by roller-coaster of regret. 

In torn images from news magazines 
her finger traces shadows of dead gods 
disguised as angels wearing masks of glass 
who stare with contempt at the camera 
that fails to capture essence of the soul 
at bitter moment of forgotten lust. 

Exhausted on the church roof of false faith, 
he transforms into thriving swan of lust 
who chases chaste maid on the interstate 
till she opposes brute austerity 
and frees her body from his fractured eyes 
long into midnight of no tolling bells. 

No gods on swirling clouds of bold intent 
call down to fragile humans sick with hope, 
yet they assemble in the stone-walled church 
to pray with fervent faith to glowing clouds 
from which no savior on angelic wings 
beams from his crystal starship of concern. 

Ignoring grief that poisons her soft heart 
with fragments of surviving memories 
as frantic action that obscures with words 
pure face of light that God wears everywhere 
as soundless scream from buzzing limbs of trees, 
she stands in dizzy absolute of why. 

Unsettled horror of calm innocence 
provides new motivation from his heart 
to spin on wild arms at cliff edge of fate 
to prove he is survivor of strange love 
gone bravely beyond walls of paradise 
because he runs forever on the plain. 

Accepting that he is the traveler 
who knows all highways back to Neverland, 
he hides his soul on tattered map of fate 
to ask the stranger in each passing town 
if they remember mockery of the clown 
who now pretends to rule the world with love. 

Through motions of her body in cold air 
that vibrates canorous tune of despair, 
she walks with Phoenix grace of wordless hope 
to find the empty house of mountain light 
where ghosts of children call her secret name 
till she embraces Death with gentle kiss. 

Sunlight Of Forever Now

Sunlight Of Forever Now
© Surazeus
2026 11 08

I walk in sunlight of forever now, 
heart filled with ravens of excessive joy 
which helps me feel vibrations of desire 
from pulsing brains of humans seeking love 
with fierce ambition to regenerate 
fragile bodies of flesh before we die. 

I sing in sunlight of forever now 
with heart-piercing tune of mercurial voice 
that startles people awake from their trance 
induced by ideological hypnosis 
so they can see this real world as is, 
and not distorted through religious lens. 

I dance in sunlight of forever now 
with Dionysian passion of the heart 
to break free from constraints of social rules 
that trap our bodies in duties of state 
so we can flow with energy of love 
we channel through weird spells of faith we chant. 

I trace in sunlight of forever now 
with Apollonian logic of the mind 
to bind excessive chaos of regret 
with wealth-producing rituals of design 
so we create strict urban zone of good 
fueled by fierce passion of the suffering heart. 

I watch in sunlight of forever now 
progress of whole material forms that grow 
from seed of rich potential to transform 
through intense training of assertive faith 
from frightened children to brave warriors, 
seasoned by experience fighting for freedom. 

I swim in sunlight of forever now 
from resurrection of the apple tree 
that teaches me hard art of how to die 
by living with brave passion of respect 
through endless labyrinth of faceless gods 
who sprout from tree that grows from book of tales. 

I stretch in sunlight of forever now 
to fan new wings I bought from Icarus 
because I want to fly above world maze 
and map life-path of every living soul 
so I can understand what people want 
who seek to incarnate before they die. 

I play in sunlight of forever now 
another game of chess against grim Death 
who laughs at all my clueless vain attempts 
to save the suffering soul from guilt of Hell 
since we construct vast empires to our glory 
only to vanish in the Nothingness. 

Then The Prophet Comes

Then The Prophet Comes
© Surazeus
2026 11 08

Unlicensed by power of the Glow Cloud 
to prophesy rise of the Hidden Dragon, 
Phoebus declares himself Messiah Sleuth 
with insight in the nature of the mind 
to organize all people of the land 
in new empire of productive success. 

Yet people gathered in the city square 
cry out with anguish of the hungry soul 
for assurance from voice of the Glow Cloud 
that the lives they live have not been in vain, 
for all we build will crumble into dust 
and our souls dissipate in voiceless wind. 

Standing alone on the pyramid plat, 
too high above the people of the land 
to clearly hear the visions of their hopes, 
mad Midas screams in rage at little folk 
that they should worship him as Golden God, 
till they drag him down from his lofty perch. 

Lead by Minerva with Longinus Spear, 
brave people of the land with hungry hearts 
throw mad King Midas on the heap of trash 
where he writhes in anguish of his bitter pride, 
consumed by flames of greed in hot Sheol 
that erases his tyranny from Earth. 

The Spirit of the Good Leader, who loves 
ambition of the individual soul, 
and nurtures innate talents into skills, 
migrates from body to body of men 
chosen by wise Craftsman of the Blue Sky 
to embody leadership of the state. 

The Spirit of the Bad Leader, who hates 
self-reliance of the individual soul, 
and exploits strength of labor to gain wealth, 
migrates from body to body of men 
chosen by cruel Mimic of the Gold Cave 
to embody selfishness of the fool. 

Though individual prophets and tyrants, 
who appear in endless tides of events 
that undulate through history of mankind, 
vanish in the progress of life and death, 
new prophets and tyrants will always rise 
to replay fight of Christ and Anti-Christ. 

When the cruel tyrant claws his way up 
to reign with hate on Pyramid of Power, 
the people tremble in fear from his rage 
till spark of hope erupts from oppressed hearts 
and fires rebellion against tyranny, 
then the prophet comes to build democracy. 

Mango Trees Of Jigawa

Mango Trees Of Jigawa
© Surazeus
2026 11 07

To store dreams in magazine of her brain 
Anyanwu glides along the river shore, 
heart swelling with joy at the jaunty chirp 
of black-winged Ibadan malimbe birds 
that causes her to become one with light 
though men in helicopters shoot at ghosts. 

Watching soccer game on the flashing screen 
when girls of her nation win the world cup, 
Anyanwu cheers and dances with delight 
at courage of the human soul to fight 
for victory against decay of death 
by kicking ball of sorrow at the sky. 

I am Eyes of God in this mortal realm, 
Anyanwu sings while strumming long Garaya, 
who dreams this world alive so She may know 
complex emotions of the pulsing brain 
that powers passion of the mortal heart 
to savor pleasure of romance and fruit. 

Taking shelter from sudden thunder storm 
beneath canopy of Iroko trees, 
Anyanwu breathes sweet scent of rain in mud 
that radiates from broad fields of tangled vines, 
then gasps surprised to see the crocodile 
transform into tall man with slender arms. 

Astonished at grace of his lithe advance 
when he offers mango of his bruised heart, 
Anyanwu accepts gift of humble hope, 
so she decides to walk the signless road 
with him through steamy marsh of the God Toad 
whose song excites her heart with love for life. 

Returning to work at the hospital, 
dressed in white uniform of the staff nurse, 
Anyanwu tends patients wounded by war 
when men fight men over whose god is real, 
then wears ivory masked gilded with gold 
while she plays violin on bomb-blasted tank. 

Glowing warm with cosmic light of the sun, 
that distributes life to organic bodies, 
Anyanwu dances on the river stone 
free among mango trees of Jigawa 
which capture solar rays in golden fruit 
that nurture minds of mortals with pure love. 

Suckling new-born son of her fertile heart, 
whose eyes gleam black with unlight of the moon, 
Anyanwu sees reflected in his soul 
all her ancestors born again in flesh, 
so she sings tale of the trickster god Gizo 
who appears as spider with star-god eyes. 

Lost In Nowhere Land

Lost In Nowhere Land
© Surazeus
2026 11 07

Lost in nowhere land of excessive faith, 
Godwulf mops classroom floors of the high school 
at midnight when vampires and ghosts haunt hearts 
of teenagers seeking to understand 
intense desire to regenerate bodies 
from tangled memories of divine genes. 

Lost in nowhere land of expensive hope, 
Godwulf wanders past crowded biker bars 
to buy sub sandwich with tuna and cheese, 
then sits on park bench by deserted church 
with stones that flash from garish neon signs 
while he thinks about how wagons are made. 

Lost in nowhere land of progressive trust, 
Godwulf hears loud angry voice of some man 
insulting his wife with contemptuous snark, 
but when he beats her on the head with rage 
something swells from passion of his heart 
so he knocks her abuser to the ground. 

Lost in nowhere land of abundant courage, 
Godwulf fights the man abusing his wife 
till police arrive with guns in their hands 
so he tells them he is the caped crusader 
protecting women from abusive men, 
but young policeman shoots him in the back. 

Lost in nowhere land of artistic vibe, 
Godwulf lies on his back on wet cement 
and stares through branches of the maple tree 
to contemplate architecture of stars 
that weave life on planets from threads of light 
in organic creatures with throbbing brains. 

Lost in nowhere land of corporate clowns, 
Godwulf leaves hospital after three months 
recovering from the bullet in his back, 
but finds that he is no longer employed, 
so he applies to work as the janitor 
at the bank that forecloses mortgages. 

Lost in nowhere land of explicit love, 
Godwulf sits all day on the polished bench 
before city hall with eagle on top 
of its dome which spreads golden wings of pride, 
and panhandles for money to buy food, 
then sleeps behind the library at night. 

Lost in nowhere land of mercurial fame, 
Godwulf goes to the Pegasus Cafe 
every Wednesday night to read poetry 
with fragments of ancestral memories 
about the fractured paradigm of life, 
then wanders mute along the river shore 
till he transforms into turtle of truth. 

Born In Hyrcanian Hills

Born In Hyrcanian Hills
© Surazeus
2026 11 07

With supple laughter of the diamond hawk 
Arcadius opens golden doors of fate 
to gaze upon vast city of his hope 
that teems with people who see him as god 
who walks in human form on fragile Earth, 
but weeps behind the golden mask he wears. 

For that is how I imagine he feels, 
Petrus explains to the wolf by his side 
as they stroll mountain meadow to acquire 
diamonds from dark mine of the Underworld 
where thousands of people enslaved with chains 
extract stars from heart of darkness with rage. 

If we keep time-leaping long centuries 
between established points in the timeline, 
Arcadius complains to the faceless clown, 
I might miss how great empires are designed 
on strict hierarchical structure of power 
based on mortal man who plays role of god. 

Driving his pickup truck back to the farm, 
with sacks of feed for horses in the field, 
Petrus sings along with the country song 
about how love is burning ring of fire 
that fuels our passion to transcend dark hour 
with Dionysian dance in pouring rain. 

Aiming rifle at the tall man in black 
who robs state banks that foreclose on our farms 
and leaves hardworking farmers destitute, 
Arcadius questions purpose of the law 
designed to help the rich exploit the poor 
against the principles that Jesus taught. 

Concerned about high price of gasoline 
that fuels his tractor for harvesting grain, 
Petrus decides to run as governor 
against son of the banker in gray suit 
who buys foreclosed farmland at auction cheap, 
but gets drunk while fishing after he loses. 

Stopping his car on highway by the lake, 
Arcadius sees some man fall from his boat, 
so he swims to the middle of the dark lake 
and drags Petrus back to the pebbled beach 
where he tries to transform into the wolf 
whose spirit was born in Hyrcanian Hills. 

Though I had been crowned the first emperor 
to rule eastern Rome from Byzantium, 
Arcadius smiles for broadcast cameras, 
today I am honored with all my heart 
that the great people of Zarathia 
have chosen me to reign as President. 

Garden Mother Horta

Garden Mother Horta
© Surazeus
2026 11 07

While repairing wood walls of their fane home, 
replacing rotten porch pillar with pine 
he chopped and hauled down from the mountain slope, 
Satres stands on tiled roof in leather apron 
and sees his wife and daughter hauling bags 
of fruit and herbs they gathered by lake shore. 

Heart aching as he watches with concern 
how Lartha, gentle wife with silver eyes, 
and Thania, clever daughter with gold curls, 
struggle to drag bags of food over field 
of bushes and stones to stock cellar shelves, 
Satres pictures wagon with rolling wheels. 

Carving multiple blocks of wood in curves 
with adze he hones sharp on smooth river stones, 
Satres assembles four wheels from oak felloes, 
fitting them with dowels into strong rings, 
adjusts them with axles of sturdy pine, 
then presents wagon to his surprised wife. 

Hauling wagon down to shore of the lake 
where fruit trees, herbs, and vegetables grow wild, 
Satres holds up shovel he bought from Velthur 
who forged it from metal in the hill cave, 
then when Lartha shows him small fruit trees 
or vegetables she wants, he digs them up. 

Planting trees and vegetables in clay pots, 
that he carefully extracts from thick soil, 
Satres hauls wagon back to their fane home 
where Thania hoes rows of furrows from field, 
then Lartha shows him where to place each pot 
as he digs holes deep enough for long roots. 

Hauling pots of water filled from the lake, 
Satres rests on bench under shady elm 
while Thania waters trees and vegetables 
which Lartha tends by pulling hungry weeds 
and trimming branches so more fruit will bloom, 
as cool breeze rustles leaves with pleasant hum. 

When several planks of the wagon get cracked 
from heavy clay pots of water or dirt, 
Satres replaces them with new-carved planks, 
then sits at table outside their fane home 
where they eat galettes baked with meat or fruit, 
and drink apple cider in evening glow. 

Strumming taut strings on lyre of Mercury 
with fingers callused by carpenter work, 
Satres sings hymn to Garden Mother Horta 
who taught him how to gather plants from fields 
and plant them in garden enclosed by walls, 
while Lartha and Thania dance on moonlight. 

Empty Of Clock Sorrow

Empty Of Clock Sorrow
© Surazeus
2026 10 06

Empty of clock sorrow that could obscure 
clang of church bells in the merry hollow, 
Silvanus prances through ten thousand doors 
to crack his heart on stages smeared with blood, 
then wanders home to lounge beneath the willow 
and ask the starling for romantic cure. 

Having struck the richest gold vein of truth 
in sunless mine of human memories, 
Silvanus weaves from tangled nerves of fear 
ten thousand tapestries of world events 
presenting humble people as great heroes 
who mimic messiahs on talking burros. 

Eager to learn how to play grand piano 
with brave Bavarian fury of the storm, 
that Ludwig performs when he wrestles angels, 
Silvanus leaps with outspread arms of joy 
in flower meadow of the honey bee 
to play President in Land of the Free. 

Exiled from Heaven for stealing our hearts 
with scathing mockery of the haughty king, 
Silvanus hosts midnight feast for the elves 
when he strums lyre of Mercury and sings 
about mysterious people with star eyes 
who secretly dwell in covenant burrows. 

Struck by weird inspiration of glass gods 
whose brains refract confused divinity, 
Silvanus falls in love with the Lost Princess 
who rises from toilet cleaner to queen 
and rules with fierce justice of innocence 
over wanderers in ten thousand boroughs. 

If given the chance to go back in time, 
teleported three thousand years before, 
Silvanus would choose to dwell in the Alps 
where spirit of his father Silvus wakes 
beside star-eyed lake in high mountain vale 
when he builds fane for his bride to dwell safe. 

Mind cluttered with fragments of memories, 
lived by his ancestors ten million years, 
Silvanus slowly twirls while breathing wind 
to practice martial arts through meditation 
till he gains power of the stealthy wolf 
who builds army from refugees of war. 

When ten thousand starlings swoop from Glow Cloud 
with message scrolls from angels in glass towers, 
Silvanus reads in swirl of their wild flight 
new age of freedom and justice for all 
rising from hearts of people who desire 
all nations of Earth unite in one faith. 

Inspired By Flame Of Awen

Inspired By Flame Of Awen
© Surazeus
2026 11 06

With my bones of glass forged by flower light, 
and serpentine tongue of weird prophecies, 
Taliesin whispers to cracked tortoise shell, 
I should remain invisible from Fame 
whose blessing is the curse of vampire lust 
that drains bright Awen from my aching heart. 

Though clutching harp of whale bone to his breast 
with wordless passion of the sky-fierce crow, 
Taliesin stands on cliff of mocking wind 
and sings in harmony with ocean waves 
so strings from hearts of dragons ring clear thoughts 
that spark our craving to understand why. 

Mouth open round as cave of flashing wind 
expressed by Zephyrus in curls of verse, 
Taliesin channels craving of the heart 
in spell that formulates obsessive want 
which drives all conscious beings of chemicals 
with brave propellant of our mutual love. 

Composed of quick atomic chemicals 
that program progress of productive rites, 
Taliesin bonds integral drive of hope 
through vision of our bodies as star gods 
consuming fruit and meat of voiceless souls 
to fuel expansion of our fragile minds. 

Like Adam aches to eat apple of Eve, 
and Phoebus chases Daphne in fruit grove, 
and Romeo clutches Juliet to his chest, 
and Orpheus turns with frantic respect 
to bring Eurydice back to warm life, 
Taliesin searches our dreams for Modron. 

Heart pulsing with slow swirl of galaxies 
when his fingers strum taut strings of our hearts, 
Taliesin sings while bearing harp of bone, 
time molds our temporary spirit flames 
from mindless slime of surging ocean waves 
to wingless angels emanating light. 

With skulls of Orpheus, Hamlet, and Jesus 
singing prophecies on museum shelf, 
Taliesin translates song of ocean waves 
to story of curious humanity 
constructing global empire of glass towers 
from Flame of Awen in the human heart. 

Inspired by Flame of Awen in his heart, 
that flares forth from first flash of the big bang, 
Taliesin sits on Stone of Prophecy 
on Mount Takoma by Star Mirror Lake 
and writes our dreams in serpent runes of faith 
which beams new visions in our hungry hearts. 

Bodies Of Our Vibrant Souls

Bodies Of Our Vibrant Souls
© Surazeus
2026 11 05

I feel sacred glow of her fertile heart, 
that radiates passion for beauty of life, 
encased in subtle innocence of truth 
that nurtures bodies of our vibrant souls 
when we explore landscape of our desire 
with honest attention of mutual trust. 

She imitates electric flight of birds, 
disguised as flowered angel of despair 
with owl-eyed wisdom from exploding seeds 
while dancing on sun-stippled field of fate, 
perfumed with freakish sorrow of desire 
when she bites into apricot of trust. 

Heart dilating gold-rimmed Black Hole of love 
at flap of angel wings before dawn flash 
electrocutes my soul with earnest angst, 
she clutches me with wrecking cry of trust 
that twists our bodies into prefect swirl 
of startled gasping at explosive kiss. 

We dream our bodies lithe as serpent joy 
in shadowed hall of undone paradise 
with taut assertion of magnetic trust 
that splatters spirits of our bonded hearts 
on undulating canvas of our hearts, 
transforming us from mortals to clay gods. 

Unmindful of Medusa in her heart, 
she reaches tender hand of anguished hope 
to pierce hard shield of sorrow I erect 
which mirrors beauty of her timeless face 
that unstones my too-long paralyzed soul 
so we pulse pale with living fruit of love. 

If we meander too long in hot glare 
of eyeless sun, that seems to always know 
dark secrets we unspokenly conceal, 
she splashes me with fountain tears of love 
to prove our souls are destined to compose 
new bodies for immortal soul of genes. 

Disguised as Harlequin with thirteen wings, 
clipped from both demons and angels alike, 
I glide with proud elegance of the swan 
in ploy of honor when I must perform 
role of Odysseus for Penelope 
since airplanes fly above our garden pool. 

She is the May Queen with grace of the swan, 
awake with sparks of passion from my eyes, 
since we perform in tragic play of love 
that still engenders children of our hope 
so we accept our bodies will decay 
as they become their most authentic selves. 

Psychic Flash Of Memories

Psychic Flash Of Memories
© Surazeus
2026 11 05

Blinded by psychic flash of memories, 
I utter arcane knowledge of god-stars 
with insane voice of eager honesty 
that throws me into tangled vines of fear 
where, troubled by temptation of contempt, 
I dangle upside down from cross of fate. 

Fueled by psychic flash of memories, 
I race through endless maze of rancid wealth 
to catch elusive butterfly of love 
that leads me lost in meadow of cracked skulls 
which sing strange prophecies in secret code 
about the fall of greed-stoked tyrannies. 

Confused by psychic flash of memories, 
I wear new gilded mask of Jupiter 
and prance with haughty glow of angel pride 
to prove my divine right to rule the world, 
forever on the run from nothingness 
till Death finds me on throne of arrogance. 

Triggered by psychic flash of memories, 
I conceal my natural identity 
beneath so many layers of false myths 
that I lose track of my primary self, 
entangled in titles and names of fame 
when glamor traps me in my fantasy. 

Annoyed by psychic flash of memories, 
I feel my soul stretched taut with probity 
so my brain oscillates between extremes 
around opposing poles of moral creeds 
till my soul is bound by veracity 
that blinds my eyes to essence of my Aion. 

Prompted by psychic flash of memories, 
I design new temple of global faith 
based on true vision of creative force 
expressed by Ishtar on the ziggurat 
from which she rules world religions of faith 
with story of mankind as curious angels. 

Flustered by psychic flash of memories, 
I climb Mount Helicon to Cave of Dreams 
where skull of Orpheus with mirror eyes 
sings timeless spells of social synergy 
that heals wounds of my heart with sacred goal 
to secure United Nations of Earth. 

Inspired by psychic flash of memories, 
I rubricate scroll of my epic poem 
about search of humanity for truth 
that leads our brave steps of curious faith 
ever deeper in labyrinth of dead gods 
who preserve our ancestors as word ghosts. 

Code Of Eternal Truth

Code Of Eternal Truth
© Surazeus
2026 11 05

Brain tangled with code of eternal truth, 
I laugh at how time disconnects my heart 
from people of my small community 
when I move to vast city maze of hope 
to find my role in drama of world games 
as one who draws map of the wandering trees. 

Fate misdirects attention of our hearts 
from dreams we build of cloudy palaces 
to trap our bodies in mundane routines 
gathering energy from soil of the Earth 
to nurture psychic flash of memories 
by which we map our quest for fruit of faith. 

Nerves frazzled by code of eternal truth, 
I leap into sky of infinite thought 
as if I bear broad wings of Icarus 
so I can fly above maze of our world, 
but I fall back to solid sense of facts, 
and breathe for energy to venture forth. 

Fortune tricks my eyes with glamorous dream 
that I could ascend high steps of success 
along honorable course of offices 
to achieve programs of productive wealth, 
but I get knocked down by aggressive strife 
when rivals frame me with guilt of their crimes. 

Mind programmed with code of eternal truth, 
I measure features of material shapes 
to draw clear blueprints of their ideal forms, 
then state in formulas of numbered law 
cause and effect of consequential force 
so I can analyze essence of life. 

Chance leads astray ambition of my faith 
when I realize Jesus was mortal man 
whose deeds embody noble character 
of leader who nurtures talents as skills 
in people who accept him as their savior 
when he incorporates them in haven life. 

Heart inspired by code of eternal truth, 
I stop to chat with every human being 
in every city on our spinning globe 
so I know their names and dreams of their hearts, 
and how we all connect in web of souls 
that radiates visions of our fears and hopes. 

Luck catches me by surprise when she beams 
from Heaven to bestow on my bowed head 
laurel crown of acclaim from Tree of Truth, 
so now I wear Cloak of Invisibility 
to evade Fame with her nuclear-bright eyes 
lest ring of wealth become slave-chain of greed. 

Tall Tree Of Ignorance

Tall Tree Of Ignorance
© Surazeus
2026 11 04

My feelings are no mountains of the moon, 
yet rivers swell from earnest praise of stones 
who hide opinions of angelic clown 
too hungry for unbaked bread of surprise 
because all houses on the country road 
burn from strange laughter of sad pyramids. 

House of my body stretches wings of hope 
so I can fly above vast town of graves 
where mothers gripping bayonets of faith 
make talismans for children without eyes 
who steal jobs in the county government 
by getting tattoos of uncertain gods. 

Words burst from perfect eggs of solitude 
to track quick revolution of our globe 
around three suns of happy carnivals 
where elves hold weddings always at midnight 
for twenty centuries of rocking cradles 
despite how often halls of fate collapse. 

Though we hold hands with loyalty of fear 
to gather plums in rockets of contempt, 
we cross old covered bridges every dawn 
where leaves of spirits flutter in cold breeze, 
so we pause in mid-flurry of shocked truth 
to take cute selfie of our twisted souls. 

So when blonde girl in yellow dress of pride 
gives me old record-player made of glass, 
we sit together on broken stone wall, 
pretending we still live in paradise 
where everyone operates their own store 
along the river boulevard of fate. 

Still wearing dress her mother sewed from rage, 
she plays atonal melodies of faith 
on glass piano forged from meteor tears, 
awake with thrilling ecstasy of love 
that no one else but us can understand 
as secret we share in the crowded church. 

Soft steps of urgent innocence extend 
harsh laughter of the weeping telephone 
clutched by last angel of forever now 
whom darkness fleshes real from ocean sand 
as truth contained in letters never read 
by sad old woman in the rocking chair. 

My name means wind of elegant respect 
exposes joy in foul grave of my heart 
at sudden jazz of cars on highway bridge 
that glisten gold in anguish of night rain 
though we return to paradise we lost 
and hide behind tall Tree of Ignorance. 

Manage Randomness Of Fate

Manage Randomness Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 11 04

My heart remembers nothing of the pain 
wound tight by tree roots in my throbbing brain 
long after river stones of moral tricks 
crack into pageless books of blood-soaked bricks 
from which foundation of our holy state 
was built to manage randomness of fate. 

From crowded neighborhoods of faceless ghosts, 
enchanted by blind horse that always boasts 
about grandiose wars of wealth it has won, 
I compile statistics about the sun 
with plan to build from ritual pieties 
empire through religious anxieties. 

We cheer great victory of the humble man 
who campaigns for God with progressive plan 
to fund healthcare for every breathing soul 
whether or not they perform social role 
that contributes to success of the state 
for refugees locked outside jeweled gate. 

Retention of brave workers without hands, 
who sacrifice their health to uphold brands 
of corporate pirates trashing companies, 
inspires new mission to reforge mental keys 
that should unlock new opportunities 
for tailless monkeys who still live in trees. 

Our bodies wither from unspooling clocks 
that call with trumpets to war-monger hawks 
who land on wrist of Christ at whistle call 
when his voice shakes faith of the castle wall 
through resurrection of the never-dead 
whose wisdom springs as daughter from my head. 

Hephaestus hobbles in cathedral hall 
to fool Achilles in the shopping mall 
with joke that he has been elected king 
who should wield invisibility ring 
through power to raise spirits from the dead 
who are but memories in my addled head. 

I condescend to implicate myself 
through screaming statue on library shelf, 
yet choose to vindicate with random rule 
my use of sorrow as attention tool 
for tricking people to see me as god, 
but flee when they realize I am a fraud. 

Last emperor of my ancient dynasty, 
paralyzed through glam of my majesty, 
I wander homeless on the signless road 
to find secret marsh of the humming toad 
who teaches me code of eternal truth 
so I can play role of messiah sleuth. 

Arthurian Trance Of Faith

Arthurian Trance Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 11 04

I have never heard the nightingale sing, 
yet I have felt brush of the angel wing 
my mind designs as spirit of true love 
that beams at me from the warm sun above, 
so my heart projects conscious sense of thought 
at our Cosmos that mindless atoms wrought. 

Whether relaxed in garden of fruit trees, 
hair gently caressed by the caring breeze, 
or mapping our world on computer screen 
with urgent faith from soul of Melusine, 
I feel vibrant light of the cosmic glow 
radiate through my brain as atomic flow. 

My body pulses with matrix of light 
that forms our planet spinning in slow flight 
two hundred fifty million years one time 
around galactic ring in psychic chime, 
expanding scope of my one tiny brain 
from core of Earth to Laniakea plane. 

Though I am temporary node of being 
on tiny globe in supercluster ring, 
that flashes zillions of planets with life, 
where each mortal soul grows wiser through strife, 
I feel concept of God wake in my heart 
in quest I map on star-observant chart. 

Since beauty of the quaint communal scene, 
where humans live safe from the thought machine, 
is truth we choose with goal of Liberty 
to share our globe in world democracy 
where every soul may thrive with equal rights, 
I channel Mithras to mediate fights. 

Our long greed-ravished Earth of fertileness, 
that blooms to wreck towers of greediness, 
waits mutely in Arthurian trance of faith 
for Sylvan historian of our God Wraith 
to chronicle our fight for Liberty 
that guides our way from dales of Arcady. 

My peaceful temple in lush mountain vale, 
where I guard secret of the Holy Grail, 
may be safe haven from national wars, 
but billions of people behind locked doors 
struggle to maintain healthy dignity 
through personal responsibility. 

To nurture individual human worth, 
enforced by United Nations of Earth, 
I sing in tune with Lyre of Mercury 
brave hymn that praises world democracy 
where every conscious soul on fruit-tree hill 
may thrive in legal framework of free will.