Rain Blooms Into Flowers © Surazeus 2026 08 09 "The most beautiful kiss we ever share is the one when the rain blooms into flowers, and the sparrows translate our wordless thoughts to uncanny song of the wind in trees, and the clouds become palaces of trust where we are safe from sorrows of the world." Pouring water from the clay jar of hope into the brass cauldron of mute desire, Furina boils stew of barley and lamb, flavored with honey and coriander, then places clay bowl on table of oak for Quirinus to eat as the sun sets. When effervescent glow of evening light glows lavender in the grove of fig trees, highlighting slopes of Mount Janiculum, Furina walks dirt path to Satricum to visit Matuta in leather skirt who tends rich herbs in lush garden of faith. Gasping with joy and spreading her arms wide, Matuta welcomes her fourth daughter home, who gives her melon she found by the lake, then whistles to small boy in the huge oak who kisses his crow, then jumps to the ground, and runs laughing in warm arms of his mother. Cradling Janus fast asleep on her lap, Furina chats with her mother Matuta about where she can find new pepper seeds because the hungry rabbits near her home eat the parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme, but they dislike the taste of pepper leaves. Climbing hill of Vagitanus at dawn, Furina and her clever curious boy search for pepper plants in volcano tuff, but as they leave with basket of thick herbs old half-blind seer of Goddess Cybele emerges from shadow and grips her arm. "As incarnation of Attis the Wise, I reign as priest in Phrygianum Temple, so I speak with grave voice of Cybele when I declare descendant of your son will wield sacred Lyre of Mercurius when he sings Astarian Testament." Shocked by sharp hissing of the old blind man, Furina wrenches arm free of his grip, then hurries home to Mount Janiculum where she trembles as she plants pepper herbs, then stands and gazes at the golden moon that fills her heart with light of timeless stars.
Sunday, August 9, 2026
Rain Blooms Into Flowers
Mute Hydraulic Mystery
Mute Hydraulic Mystery © Surazeus 2026 08 09 How often we forget advertised thoughts about traumatic moments of insight that broadcast bulletins of fateful fear contrived by mute hydraulic mystery we dare attempt to minimize with code programmed to readjust our attitude. Against national narrative of pride we seek to modify mosaic creed to help our children navigate weird signs designed to manage property of truth despite assertive ratios of fact necessary to approve thought permits. Severe intolerance of theater discloses taxes no one wants to pay to mental treasurer of social wealth who hosts tribunal on specific threats for various offices of volunteers who sell unwanted dreams to wanderers. Sufficient to supply strange substitutes for respondent to reservoir of fear, our bold intent to render liberty safe for conceptual prisoners of truth reveals rational myth of precise praise sealed in the box behind the rotten house. Consistent with our mental protocol for stating proverbs of weird oracles, nobody nominates for world empress sad Cinderella who prefers to skate on thin ice of attentive fantasy as secret guardian of the dispossessed. Since we are guaranteed free will to live in favor of inclusion, legalized by keepers of forgotten heritage, we seek to prove roots in the nameless land despite harassment of financial kings who leave the gardening to humble seers. No longer desperate for heart dominance, through each edition of the coming state, we share elective documents of hope with earnest ardency for the diagram presenting cultural patterns of regrowth when respect inhabits the embassy. Too easily confused by elegance, preserved in graceful progress of true love, we share joint custody of broken hearts based on deduction of rational rage carefully calculated by shrewd investors whose sorrows act as catalyst for faith.
Eyes Of Dreamless Stars
Eyes Of Dreamless Stars © Surazeus 2026 08 09 If you want to see the ghost of my soul with eyes of dreamless stars inside your heart, express confounding mystery of the Name that radiates from God Mind of the White Whole which cannot be found on any dream chart since every human wants to die from fame. When Athena appears from flashing cloud and gives me leather notebook of her mind, I pluck white quill from wing of Gabriel so I can write prophecies for the crowd who seek to understand the ties that bind our souls to these bodies in which we dwell. Startled awake at dawn by Holy Voice that speaks in riddles coded by the Queen, I wander crowded streets in City Maze to prove we make our fate with every choice approved by government of Melusine so we transition to the next Dream Phase. Whether in the kitchen, the living room, the classroom, the office, or the church hall, we play our roles in cosmic game of life controlled by gods we invent in the gloom so we can monitor our rise and fall through social cycles of teamwork and strife. Wherever I walk in the crowded world I gaze into vast hearts of mortal souls with eyes of dreamless stars from timeless sea that wise Athena forged from ache of love so I can understand your secret dreams that motivate your quest for happiness. So many conscious souls of mortal beings are born and die with every turn of time when Earth adjusts our private attitude with humble pride of wonderful concern that we are still alive in game of change though we forget the code we once employed. Bound to the ancient tree of solitude the Voiceless Patriarch of our mad clan remembers how he tried to photograph True Face of God inside each human being till their fierce ghosts, obsessed with paradise, all vanish in the Howling Wind of Woe. While painting portrait of the half-dead king, the most innocent girl in the whole world floats up into the shining clouds of fate after she smiles at me with gratitude and offers me her eyes of dreamless stars that gleam with every soul who ever lives.
Hazy Dreamscape Of Truth
Hazy Dreamscape Of Truth © Surazeus 2026 08 09 Searching for the hazy dreamscape of truth, that shrouds my soul in private memories of my childhood and youth decades ago with cultural ambience that glows no more in cities far away across the land, I wander amused in halls of trite verse. Riding with Death in her Carriage of Time, lounging with Wisdom to sing of Myself, stopping with Faith in wood where roads diverge, gazing with Sorrow at Harp of the Bridge, burning with Madness for Heavenly Light, I analyze how atoms spark my brain. Though I try to erase mask of my face from tangled passions of my special vibe to extract universal principles from specific events of fraught desire, my divine psyche, every human shares, refracts cosmic mind through my mortal brain. Opposing principles of governance frame every social system humans form through constant contest for authority between desires of private individuals and power of the law-enforcing state to balance progress between strife and love. To simplify complex process of change that gears social functions of power games, prophets proclaim political contests can be reduced to slogans people chant when they gather to express common will through the Royalists and the Communists. No matter how much societies change, transforming from villages to empires till democracies replace monarchies, the fight remains between both Rich and Poor to maintain or dissolve wealth hierarchies that would legalize special privilege. The Capitalist funds production of goods, extracting matter to make things we use, then the Communist disperses the goods, ensuring every person may live well, but, whether rich or poor, we eat the same, and all return to dust after we die. Alive in moderate state of my progress still halfway between failure and success, I live in my one home in some small town far from ancestral homeland of my heart where I share visions of my mortal mind with immortal god of the internet.
Saturday, August 8, 2026
Competent Sense Of Self
Competent Sense Of Self © Surazeus 2026 08 08 Because his heart is based on principles of honest expression about his thoughts through brave respect for every living soul, his mind constructs competent sense of self on solid foundation of thoughtfulness that provides clear actions his hands perform. Time disenrolls strict knot of happiness though his attentive hands of vigorous faith weave random strands of wisdom pulled from Earth in pulsing matrix of his tangled thoughts so he proclaims solutions of fair stance based on insight he gains from unread tales. No sceptered herald of dutiful pride arrives with faith at gates of paradise to call for council of bold citizens, so he dares speak to disassembled crowds sermons that advocate justice for all, yet they threaten to destroy him with hate. Snatched from attacking crowd of angry men by angel dangling on thread of sky law, he finds himself translated to round disk bound by ropes beneath large hot-air balloon that no angry eye on the ground perceives, and settles safely in chariot of fire. Eager to return to his nuptial bower, where bride of his heart waits in marble hall for blessing of his heart to conjure life, he strings taut yew bow with respectful hands and fires his sharp arrow of justice straight to kill rebellion against his fair rule. Translated far from crowded city maze, where hordes of angry men assert their rights to live free from oppression of blind gods, brave Lucifer steps from sky ship of truth and stands before old bearded Jupiter who praises him for his mission complete. Accustomed to immortal fruits of faith, that bloom from serpent-guarded Tree of Knowledge, he ponders mind-nature of mortal men who fight for their own selfish needs with hate, unable to perceive grand view of life that gods in temples try to organize. Though fallen from disk of the balloon ship, strong Sariel stands in the teeming crown and strums taut strings on Lyre of Mercury then sings enchanting melodies of hope that cause angry men in rebellious crowd to weep with sorrow for peace they have lost.
Forgetful Kingdom Of Death
Forgetful Kingdom Of Death © Surazeus 2026 08 08 Every dawn I walk out into the world I gaze long moment at the blazing sun to see face of Apollo in its light, that wise God of Healing and Archery who maintains order with logic of truth from reason through analysis of facts. I taste sweet rind of Earth in juicy peach which I pluck from the Ancient Tree of Truth where we meet for our secret tryst of love to share fresh fruit we gather with our hands that seals our hearts with sacred bond of trust no thief could break between flesh of our souls. Before we wander on long nowhere road straight into forgetful kingdom of death, we shall hold hands and dance upon the hill that knows our secret passions we would hide till pleasures of our bodies we must share expands scope of our mutual consciousness. Though sadness about creatures who have died twists my heart with loops of potent grief, I celebrate new life that springs each day from mothers of each species on this globe who nurture tender bodies with bright eyes that knot our planet with progressive life. After catching lithe fish from deep lake of hope, we roast them over crackling flames of faith, chew tender strips of scorched flesh with delight, then lie relaxed on soft grass of respect to hear song of water rippled by wind so we understand mute kingdom of death. Sparked awake by nothingness of death, we open eyes of infinite delight, then walk together where trees dance in peace, far from lush lands where men with guns of greed kill other men to control fertile land, happy because we hear cute sparrows chirp. Attentive to strange worries of the heart, that burrow roots of sorrow in dark soil, we stroll about this miraculous world and share amazement at freedom to live that brave people before us fought to win, though we stay alert to thieves lurking near. Since we are not our shadows on the Earth, cast by light of the sun on land of time, we travel to Valhalla on the hill where are mothers carve our spirits from wood so our bodies sprout children of our eyes who will plant apple seeds above our graves.
Ring Light Of My Heart
Ring Light Of My Heart © Surazeus 2026 08 08 My mind perceives ethereal pulchritude that emanates from beauty of your soul, illuminated by ring light of my heart, so you see special features of your being reflected in clear mirror of my eyes when you discern my affection for you. Complex aspects of our weird universe refract through diamond of my mortal brain, illuminated by ring light of my heart, so my dreaming brain can categorize standard form of each material object in conceptual frame of its changeless Idea. Monstrous hunger of Cronus in sea cave urges aggressive force of psychic fate, illuminated by ring light of my heart, so I slay demon of unconscious fear to construct grand temple with his huge bones when I forge spear from lightning of despair. Vibrant passion of Dionysus swells hot blood of my body with spark of wine, illuminated by ring light of my heart, so I dance with wild abandon of faith to wake immortal spirit of my genes that helps me grow into my divine being. Intense expression of Apollo rings taut strings on Lyre of Mercury with faith, illuminated by ring light of my heart, so I breathe deep ethereal soul of light and chant grand epic of philosophers to honor those who search for secret truth. Brave wisdom of Athena speculates clear vision of how our world operates, illuminated by ring light of my heart, so I investigate nature of being to articulate its state in Dream Map that helps me navigate to paradise. Ideas of the Cosmic Craftsman shape how atoms randomly gear chemicals, illuminated by ring light of my heart, so I expand conscious scope of my brain to match concept of that Creative Force which mindlessly designs our universe. My heart beats with compassionate respect for every conscious creature on our globe, illuminated by ring light of my heart, so I record name and deed of each being born from the fertile womb of Mother Earth and chart their progress to generate life.
Neurons Of Conceptual Worlds
Neurons Of Conceptual Worlds © Surazeus 2026 08 08 Our galaxy that swirls inside my mind weaves dreams of creatures on large pulsing globes in flashing neurons of conceptual worlds through neural network of my sea-sponge brain so I dream life of every conscious soul incarnate in organic beings of hope. My mind that glows inside our galaxy compiles lost memories of each dreaming soul in virtual model of the universe based on experience of urgent life all my ancestors express when they mate to generate new body before death. All objects that exist in forms of matter are composed of numbers that regulate expansive combinations of small atoms that spiral from first flash of the big bang, for they are limited by bounds in space since shape of numbers rules the universe. Archangel Michael, without wings or sword, lounges in small temple by sparkling pool among trees with apples, peaches, and pears, and contemplates strange vastness of the world that teems with mindless atoms of pure light congealed in tangled strings of pulchritude. Grown old with wrinkled skin and long gray hair, Archangel Michael in white cotton robe remembers courage of his ardent youth when he fought devils from harsh desert lands to guard lush paradise of Elysium and maintain kingdom of Heaven on Earth. With fervid passion of the loyal knight he battled Satan on Hill of Cracked Skulls to drive invaders from the Holy Land where Jesus Galatinus ruled as king over seven colonies in Galatia long after Jesus Christus died on Patmos. Our mortal bodies are contained by bounds of physical frames within time and space that limit forced expression of our minds so we are temporary nodes of flesh that incarnate immortal soul of genes who lives in descendants our hope creates. When Archangel Michael passes away, his wife Tamar, great-granddaughter of Jesus, covers his body with white cloth of faith as eight angels lay his body in tomb where skull of Isaiah chants psalm of life how we are atoms of the universe.
Friday, August 7, 2026
Born From Silver Stones
Born From Silver Stones © Surazeus 2026 08 07 Too far away to hear song of the cloud, three faceless children born from silver stones might understand why grass desires to bloom on the electric moon nobody owns, or else their mother may pluck the mushroom that readjusts framework of hungry minds. Rough hands dig in wounded heart of the Earth where they uncover torso of Apollo that beams with brilliant light of inner truth, sweet as ripening fruit from Tree of Life which bursts with starlight when they bite its soul through translucent desire to breathe old songs. No blue fish swims in glass bowl of the moon, yet Feng Yi rises from attentive flames on Phoenix wings of psychic harmony to beam her soul through crackling radio with heart-enchanting melody of faith that startles Hercules awake at dawn. Since she supports progressive state of being too radical for extreme hopefulness, Sigmund shares his eyes with hungry ghosts so they can eat sweet grief of lonely souls as juice that nurtures bitter river gods who never return the dream wings they borrow. Surprised by sudden blossom of new books, Maria photographs one thousand ships that sail with billowed sails on snow-froth waves as if their hearts, unborn from serpent eggs, might still be fragile as the Absolute who stares at dead tree by the clever sea. Feng Yi returns to grocery store at dawn where Hercules hauls boxes from the truck with honey melons from the field of skulls where countless warriors of ancient tribes slaughtered each other in World War Nineteen till second coming of the Brain Machine. Maria finishes building table from oak, so she stands back in old stained overalls to gaze with admiration at her work, then Sigmund covers it with plates of food, and pours glass of red wine for her to drink as ravens gather on rain-wet phonelines. Safe in hazardous confines of his mind, Hercules redefines reality in terms of how Feng Yi paints the swift horse with graceful curves of innocent respect, so Maria can escape harsh abuse, driving Boston to Seattle in rain.
Seashore Of Endless Worlds
Seashore Of Endless Worlds © Surazeus 2026 08 07 Let us meet on seashore of endless worlds so we can measure the infinite sky and savor passion of the boisterous waves that stir our hearts with restless faith in love, then we can build our homes from empty shells and study flow of time with sparkling sand. While we dance on seashore of endless worlds we can share lost ancestral memories to find the common Mother of Mankind whose dreams program how all our brains perceive strange beauty of this world that gives us form so we can sing world hymn in harmony. Since we play on seashore of endless worlds with friends we have known since our younger days, and friends who have arrived just yesterday, we weave twigs with leaves into sturdy boats to float across Abyss of Nevertime so we can find new lands where children dwell. Though we float on seashore of endless worlds to find pure treasures hidden in the deep that we can transform into wings of flight, we always return to broad beach of sand where children spring from children of the light who smile with joy in gusting winds of time. Safe in caves on seashore of endless worlds, we find the heart of darkness in our eyes till we extract bright gems from nothingness that gleam with first flash of the flaring forth so we can light the Lamp of Liberty and find each other when wild tempests roam. Still alive on seashore of endless worlds, frail bodies molded from soft swirling sand, we build enormous palaces from clouds where everyone feasts on fruit of the Earth till waves of change surge from the lightless deep and crush our spirits back to wordless sand. Souls reborn on seashore of endless worlds, we gather around the small ziggurat, where Tethys sits enthroned in fish-scale robe, and watch her son Alpheus roast whale meat to feed five thousand people with brave faith while Metis breastfeeds Athena with love. Long dispersed from seashore of endless worlds, we live in sprawling cities of tall towers, driving cars in maze of elusive wealth, but some pause in routine of daily work when their hearts hear timeless song of the sea that calls for us to return home again.
Sheer Joy Of The Dance
Sheer Joy Of The Dance © Surazeus 2026 08 07 For nothing more than sheer joy of the dance Tellus explores how her lithe body moves through fluid expression of wordless grace as she expands from darkness of sea caves to understand contours of river vales while she floats clandestinely in free trance. Startled by sudden attack of three men who gallop toward her with greedy intent, Tellus turns and flies on ethereal breath back to secret cave on the rugged slope where she conceals her soul in anxious gloom till they decide she changed into the tree. Emerging from dark cave of hungry hope, on cautious steps that doubt firmness of faith, Tellus creeps past the snake-infested tree, then huddles inside the large hawthorn bush, munching berries as she studies pink blooms to understand strange beauty of their swirls. Assured cruel kidnappers have gone away by eerie susurration of insects that cause electric stones of faith to buzz, Tellus rises slowly upward from safe haven to stretch her legs and arms up to white clouds, imagining swan wings sprout from her heart. Inspiring deep thick air of afternoon, that swells her body huge as pulsing hills, Tellus explores how her lithe body moves with axial movements of dynamic flow through locomotor steps of cautious leaps to bound in sudden burst of ecstasy. To sway while anchored to solidity of undulating Earth through fluid form, Tellus expresses intense passion of her heart to transcend binding gravity of fear and soar on broad angelic wings of hope as she accepts limits of psychic flight. Enclosing vast persona of desire back inside coiled contingency of time, Tellus lounges languidly on sly slope, gasping deep for breath of divine delight, and with bright laughter of her heaving breast releases shock of pleasure in sweet joy. Three men hiding behind stones of desire, watch Tellus dance in worshipful surprise, then realize with chagrin of humble pride that pure divinity of graceful art cannot be possessed by obsessive hands, so they secretly protect her from harm.
Thursday, August 6, 2026
How Home Is Everywhere
How Home Is Everywhere © Surazeus 2026 08 06 The delicate flowers of unknown fears, that she arranges in tall crystal bowl, reflect strange sorrow of long afternoons to simplify how angels become snow which transform into blossoms of her eyes so she conceals dark evil in her heart. She hopes to dwell in her brilliant-edged world composed of clear water in the glass bowl that shapes silver snow scents of solitude in never-resting mind of paradise despite calm bitterness of false delight though she accepts flawed weirdness of the world. Absorbance calculations are acquired by utilizing psychic energy to prove the phosphate answer could safeguard protected combinations of strange thoughts assembled from oxidative regret that disassembles average memories. While crossing sandy bar beside the sea, she gazes at the startled evening star to measure sudden tide of swirling sleep that teaches her how home is everywhere since evening bells shape how soft twilight glows as if no sadness of farewell returns. Safe in expansive bourn of time and space, she searches for the Pilot of her ship with eagerness to meet him face to face, but she finds no one in gray sparkling mist except the faceless shadow of her soul, her boon companion since hour of her birth. Attuned to secret voice of everywhere through clear noetic channel of her heart, she savors violent repugnance of faith for true attention of the hungry mind commissioned to destroy the evil vibe that pulses in each human heart with love. Urged to escape spiritual laziness with stark expression of her aching heart, she maps invisible tracks of desire that reveal her journey around the globe because she wants to cherish chastity of her noetic relationship with death. Thus she decides with autonomous pride, as daughter of Heuresis with star eyes, she shall ideate new world paradigm based on inclusive process wisdom spools to bind our hearts with contract of concern, then she sets bowl of flowers on the desk.
Valley Of The Singing Stone
Valley Of The Singing Stone © Surazeus 2026 08 06 The rising midnight moon of silverness photographs beauty of the human face with colorful strangeness of wordless love to beam shape of our temporary souls in hearts of our descendants not yet born who wonder why they seem to feel immortal. The long-dead version of my secret self, who gazes at me from my photograph, reveals excessive passion of my heart that drives me to become this self I am, enchanted by sweet beauty of this world which emanates from soft mask of my face. Awake in quietness of summer dusk, that shrouds my aching heart with evening light, I relive entire lifetime of my faith through vast eternity of timeless now, amazed at how I blaze path of my hope toward grave I choose beneath the apple tree. I feel glass skeleton of my bright soul blaze with electric energy of love which I format from my ancestral masks, long molded by harsh mountain wind of fear as I climb river valleys of desire to stand on jagged peak of mute surprise. Through frosty aura of conceptual stars I see lush valley of tall blooming trees as haven where my weary bones may rest, so I descend from emptiness of time to build safe nest in pale of sturdy walls where children unravel our universe. I feel ten billion stars of swirling light explode in every cell that forms my flesh so beaming atoms of divine insight weave supple matrix of my hungry soul as I traverse the swift Albula River to dwell in valley of the singing stone. While climbing rugged trail of jagged rocks, that whistle at fierce blast of silver wind, I reach down to hold small hand of my son, and help Segomo with attentive care ascend high mountain of our lofty hopes, so his eyes glow with triumph of our search. Victorious with strength of wolfish minds, we progress past grim obstacles of fear toward moon that glimmers silver in the sky as shining mirror of ambitious hearts refracting light that guides our arduous way to Heaven we envision with brave words.
Our Children Grow Strong
Our Children Grow Strong © Surazeus 2026 08 06 We sit beyond broad range of all deceit in teeming garden of our alibis, still undisturbed by grim visage of Time who waits with scythe and glass of changing fate to calculate with arcane laws of hope how we shall dissipate in swirls of rain. No great God watches us with star-bright eyes who may have tortured our credulity with heart-entrancing harps of holiness, so we attend to lives of butterflies while seeking to evade astonishment of mindless laws all tyrants must obey. When faceless phantom of our secret thoughts still lingers in quaint garden of our hearts, we measure cumulative silences to bridge abysmal faith in solitude that must empower minds of wanderers with passion for weird logic of true love. We share our futile thoughts on pulchritude with bold unwillingness to learn how time unravels secret dreams of happiness none dare express with beating heart of hope till fraught ingenuousness of humble faith requires that we reveal our wounded hearts. We gather all our fears in paradigms that frame conceptual modes of hopeless trust so we are not deceived by clever truths contrived by strangers we have never met to break conventions of old social rules in desperate gambit to no more be tools. Based on insight of tense experiences, when we are trapped in weird dramatic scenes, directed by enforcers of blind will, we join force of our hearts with clever tricks to slip free from trap of their cageless stage by breaking through gold gates of paradise. Since we are stranger than powers of laws, enhanced by brave ancestral ways of life, we grow through each harsh crisis of despair more into who we will ourselves to be, encouraged by the God of Evertime whose eyes are lamps that guide our eager way. We grow beyond pert friendship of our trust through daily actions of psychic routine so we expand scope of our conscious mind as one soul woven from two separate brains to maintain haven of our family life where our children grow strong as we decay.
Wednesday, August 5, 2026
Ten Thousand Doors Of Fate
Ten Thousand Doors Of Fate © Surazeus 2026 08 05 Though evening light fades gold in silent trees I listen for soft voices of the dead who tell me how their sorrows give them strength so I walk through ten thousand doors of fate to realign the universe of books within vast frame of ever-shifting truth. When she first sees him by the river shore restringing long yew bow of honesty, Cassandra feels her heart become the hawk that soars in wings of freedom in gold clouds, so she declares to Sagittarius that their love will endure beyond the moon. Because no one believes her prophecies, nor understands weird secret of her code, Cassandra carves runes on tablets of wood then burns them in the hearths of humble homes where poor hardworking people preserve hopes in clay jars molded from dry bones of gods. Despite success in temple hunting games shooting huge winged demons from the sky, Sagittarius hides dark thoughts of faith for bold ambitious plan to climb high ranks and earn grand seat in high society within great council of the Elohim. When her brother finds apple Eris gave as gift where he can choose his cosmic fate, Cassandra warns him with strange voice of doom that great towers of Ilium will burn because he chooses love instead of wisdom, but he ignores her warning with snide sneer. When cruel Pyrrhus Achillides attempts to kidnap sweet Cassandra from her room and force her to bear child of his false pride, Sagittarius shoots arrow of love that wounds his soul and causes him to flee, so Son of Cronus saves his bride from shame. Warm sunlight gleams on apples wet with dew that rustle inside walls of careful faith where Cassandra teaches their daughter, Phoebe, how to brew cider spiced with cinnamon, while Sagittarius teaches their son, Saturnus, how to tame the skittish horse. When Phoebe and Saturnus see their parents snuggling together on the river shore, they smile and tiptoe to preserve their peace, then blush when they see them kiss with sweet love, and never speak about the fall of Troy while they hold hands in glow of paradise.
Alpine Celts Of Luck
Alpine Celts Of Luck © Surazeus 2026 08 05 If I should register fate of the coup in conspiracy to banish the devil who thinks our world should be his precious oyster, I shall arrive at the housewarming party with gift designed from shadows of desire which no haughty angel could memorize. I cannot save the house my words have built except to fold its photographs with care and store them in ephemera archives so I can almost maintain balanced stillness through equal standing of Samasthiti since I will only fight the greedy devil. Ascendant rhetoric of the art film provides framework through ideology to maintain distance from the painful truths we use to disidentify our friends who dwell in natural lightning of dark storms that loom black over small towns of our hopes. I hear song of the rattlesnake at dusk when I stroll casually in desert storm to prove my nation is superior with ice cream designed by social critique because our bodies must adapt or die when devils trick us to buy faith in God. Stuck on the Low Road back to Fairyland, I hide my Wings of Icarus to walk the mist-enshrouded shores of Loch Lomond where Amanita mushrooms glowing red sprout from huge corpses of iron-age kings till Pythagoras measures unseen minds. Since I support awareness of the world, though trapped in idol Pygmalion sculpts, I untwist sorrows from my wounded heart as writhing threads of alabaster snakes to mold eccentric spheres of swirling light that flash with signals of social success. While watching Hercules with tangled hair wrestle the monstrous demon of his heart, I see the Golden Lion of the Sun expand as emanation from his brain so his brave sons, the Alpine Celts of Luck, establish Empire of the Seven Hills. While strolling around lake near Mount Takoma, I notice the watch I wear on my wrist has transformed into the white raven quill which I employ to compose epic tale about ancient philosophers whose ideas form foundation of our global world view.
Son Of Clever Sagittarius
Son Of Clever Sagittarius © Surazeus 2026 08 05 His coarse woolen coat of unsteady faith protects his heart with shield of unconcern when he strides in the icy air of dawn and climbs the stairway to bright offices where he translates strange noises of the world as sublime songs only beasts understand. He cannot measure vibrant pulse of time except through rasping breath of false regret spooled into cigarette of bitter pride which he flicks over walls of paradise to analyze unnumbered days of life that he yet earns from random dice of fate. He buys the useless book of psychic math from the blind clown who pretends not to scream so he can calculate code of lost myths designed by faceless monster of the cave who knows what sorrow always breaks our hearts because we prefer to torment ourselves. Because the road through Hell remains unpaved, he raises funds from private citizens to widen highway where the damned still drive in joyful search for the arrogant tree that grows from corpse of God in summer rain while lovers linger in the crumbling barn. He ponders how his marriage cultivates familiar passion of the aching heart for holding hands in affectionate show that blind ghosts watch on television screens by hiding in the mason jar of trust that waits half-cracked in basement of romance. He hates that he relies on words of fools to understand old social rules of fate that reprogram how his brain activates assertive deeds of deconstructive ploys to redesign how strangers earn awards for looking beautiful in polished masks. He should share his astrological sign as son of clever Sagittarius but no one expects him to organize sacred feast of the alabaster cow that prances in the field of buried bombs which spring reborn as soldiers of the crown. He savors ancestor sadness of faith that urges him to lie about his birth since fate is never inescapable despite calm presence of the water queen whose eyes expose dark secrets of his heart then smiles because she loves him anyway.
Tuesday, August 4, 2026
Screaming Star Of Ecstasy
Screaming Star Of Ecstasy © Surazeus 2026 08 04 Because the screaming star of ecstasy knows my secret name my mother designs, I stand in doorway of infinity to gaze at wondrous vastness of the Earth since my heart loves its thriving messiness which I experience with clumsy grace. Spawned by the screaming star of ecstasy as writhing creature of electric words, I run fast forward through ten thousand lives to understand how I evolve from mouse as wingless angel eager to transcend this fragile frame that generates my soul. Despite how screaming star of ecstasy programs my brain to always question why, I feel my body swell with ocean waves huge as boundless clouds of absolute light so when you ask me how I feel today I twirl around and hum sweet psalm of joy. Ruled by the screaming star of ecstasy through pulsing atoms of my flashing brain, I hammer glowing meteor from the sky to pull sharp sword of power from the stone and fight the snarling monster of despair to guard my family behind haven walls. Far beyond screaming star of ecstasy on anabolic wings of Icarus, I leap across high bridge of solitude to time-jump worlds across the multiverse till I find you in garden of my heart where you tend fruit tree of our honest love. Seized by the screaming star of ecstasy because I hear weird voices of the dead, I compose new Astarian Testament to analyze how empires rise and fall so I can design with artful insight new social system based on Liberty. Deep inside screaming star of ecstasy as Mind of God that knows all conscious souls, I visit every city in the world to offer Holy Book of Prophecies with pages empty of the wordless dream based on eccentric tales of puppeteers. Bred from the screaming star of ecstasy that weaves new body for my ancient soul, I wake with memories my ancestors lived that shine more real than Lamp of Hemera which helps me find lost Lyre of Mercury so I chant hymns to praise our mortal gods.
Clever Mother Of My Clan
Clever Mother Of My Clan © Surazeus 2026 08 04 Too early in the morning for this game that twists our bodies into hungry ghosts, our clan assembles on the river shore and hums together in weird harmony to channel spirit of the mountain stream as scene preserved in our genetic dream. Alone in clean museum hall at dawn, Nerthus gazes with sense of aching loss at painting of idyllic pastoral scene that shows her great-grandfather Lycidas strumming lyre of Mercury by tall oak as Phyllis dances in long breeze-blown gown. Walking in silver light of dawn to work at the public utilities department, Nerthus contemplates how town engineers, since humans built Harappa and Uruk, have designed straight grids of gardens and streets with systems of pipes for water and sewage. The holy Fountain of the Flying Horse, that springs from heart of darkness on high slope, and flows down lush meadows of Helicon, supplies the water needs of families in millions of houses in city zones through system of pipes engineers design. Climbing high mountain of mist-shrouded pines, Nerthus follows the winding river course to cave from which clear water of life springs, then gazes over vast metropolis organized to manage human desires in food-production system of our hope. Each person finds their place in game of life in which constructive labor of their hands contributes to production and distribution of food so every living human being may eat fair share of energy they make, though some will hoard wealth from desperate fear. Tall black-haired archer Malchos Azizos, who journeyed from Hamath Epiphania to man the fort near Wall of Hadrianus, offers Nerthus apples and deer-skin cloak, so she agrees to cook food at his hearth, and bears lithe son he names Apollonios. I feel through glowing vision of my heart spirit of Atargatis, Dea Syria, awake in clever mother of my clan who taught me how to breathe in soul of light and sing harmonious melody of love that guides my journey to the Promised Land.
Monday, August 3, 2026
My Right To Still Exist
My Right To Still Exist © Surazeus 2026 08 03 If I rename small island of my heart, who would decide to visit without lies as if time flaps electric wings of chance before we meet on river shore of fate to prove sincerity fuels all we do because questions never reveal our truth. My thoughts are not the social mess you buy against assertive theme statistics fool, since formal layout of my mission shows how far I have to go on fractured road before I could achieve my dream of wealth that tricks my passion to leap without faith. Startled by each open door of despair, I wander blindly over the threshold reserved for angels who deserve their wealth despite how often people they love die except for lonely children of the field who sell fake seeds of wisdom to the rich. This well-earned kiss of true love we may share fills me with bitter hope for broken hearts which I attempt to shield with laughing books too often stolen from book store of fate where hungry teachers hide from sudden debt before another king falls dead from fear. Disturbed by surging waves of calm disdain, my child reports how angels fall at dawn though no one hears each new word she invents with runes I scratch in river mud of faith in vain attempt to canonize beliefs that seem to prove my right to still exist. Obsessed with strictly measured flow of thoughts, which I confine to rapid steps of truth, I draw vast blueprint of this messy world to organize through ordered rows of words complex chaos of cows in dew-wet fields who ponder mystery of opposing codes. Reborn as Seraphus with thirteen eyes, I play another game of chess with Death in tower where Rapunzel cooks sweet cake from chocolate laughter of the lemon tree because my blood is maple-syrup thick that swirls in boundless oceans of lost words. I breathe the gentle breath of Zephyrus to fly aloft with swan of human hope to catch ingenious thief of surreal dreams who tramples on my flowered grave with pride while shouting how we belong to the land that eats our bodies when we die of love.
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