Sacred Scroll Of Law © Surazeus 2025 01 25 When he hears thunder rumble in the sky that shakes his faith in honor of mankind, some spirit deep inside his startled heart advises him to map the end of time that he should stay alert with cautious hope, aware of doom that stalks the frightened world. Scratching at cold hard dirt with bleeding hands, Hilkiah digs under ruins of stone walls with desperate anguish of the raven cry till he finds long brass tube inscribed with glyphs that glitters in winter sunlight of hope as he pries ancient treasure from the Earth. "Commissioned by Josiah, King of Judah, to repair temple of Jerusalem," Hilkiah proclaims with solemn dignity, "I feel that celestial spirit of Eloh guided me to this corner of the ruins so I would find this treasure from the past." Uncapping brass tube with aggressive faith, Hilkiah retrieves thick scroll of leather skin to unroll it on half-toppled stone wall, and gazes with awe at delicate lines which record the law that Moses composed with blood of angels in Mount Sinai cave. "These words awake strange vision in my mind that conjures through virtual model of light architectural design of structured rites that guide behavior humans may perform to enhance bright energy of the soul so we perceive truth basic to our world. Striding swiftly across the bleak waste land, Hilkiah cradles brass tube with sacred scroll, leaping over scorpions, dodging swift hawks, and battling fierce wolves with serpentine rod handed down to him from Aaron through Shallum, but falls exhausted in the wilderness. Placing brass tube with sacred scroll of law in hands of Shaphan, his faithful assistant, Hilkiah begs, "Take this scroll Moses composed safely to hands of Josiah, our king, then return to escort me with kind courage to rebuild grand Temple of Solomon." Accepting sacred treasure of the law, Shaphan travels around wind-blasted hills to kneel before Josiah on wood throne who caresses ancient scroll in brass tube with reverent awe, then stands before the crowd to read words of Yahweh to his lost people.
Saturday, January 25, 2025
Sacred Scroll Of Law
Sweet Silence Of Time
Sweet Silence Of Time © Surazeus 2025 01 25 Listening to rain splatter on maple leaves on the mountain slope by the rocky stream, Kuro stares blindly in the moonless night. Holding the warm black stone in his left hand, he hears kerplash in the old silent pond when the frog leaps into silence of time. After writing poem on paper of his heart that describes wind blowing in leafless trees, Kuro eats persimmon sweet as lost hope. Though cicadas cry near the river shore, wrens noiselessly hop in the wind-blown grass and swallow their song in silence of time. "My life is brief as the cold moonless night," Kuro whispers to the wren on the sill, but I will wait till the moon shines again." When gold sun rises over hills of pine, he sees face of his father in the pond that shimmers with breath in silence of time. Red shadows of autumn evening transform into three men with swords that glint with fear as stars appear bright in the window frame. When the hawk descends from high mountain pine, Kuro twirls and swipes blade of courage quick that gleams drops of blood in silence of time. On sweet plum blossoms splattered with red blood dawn sun of hope shines with sudden surprise, exposing footprints on the mountain path. Thin layers of mist swirl slowly in pines as red plum blossoms fall on dark still lake, concealing sorrow in silence of time. Reaching out his hand with cautious intent, Kuro catches water from morning rain that spills from cup of the camellia. Gazing at the ripe plum cold in his hand, he listens to blue rain talk about home composed of blossoms from silence of time. When bush-warbler on handle of the hoe sings in plum-tree village by the field fence, children crowd around hut where Kuro sits. Bamboo-grass shadows on thin sliding doors flicker while he plays shakuhachi flute which enchants their hearts in silence of time. Voice of the river increases soft roar as Izumi climbs mountain trail of hope, wild-cherry blossoms spotting her black hair. White butterfly returns to thin plum branch as Kuro embraces his wife and cries, and they kiss to seal sweet silence of time.
Beauty Of Her Hidden Pain
Beauty Of Her Hidden Pain © Surazeus 2025 01 25 Holding the cracked stone of her wounded heart, Zixuan asks the tall willow by the lake why people ache with sorrow of the moon that seems to crumble into crystal snow swirling around her fragile flame of soul to erase all the ugliness of life. When the willow transforms into slim boy Zixuan offers cracked stone of her heart, so he accepts dark emptiness of pain and, kneeling by the silver lake of eyes, dips corrupted oval stone of despair to cleanse throbbing matrix of its frail frame. Dissolving into millions of small fish, the cracked stone of her heart releases flash of anguished passion on butterfly wings that flutter around her in restless swirls, so Zixuan reaches out both hands with awe, amazed at beauty of her hidden pain. Waking up at dawn to the alarm ring, Zixuan dresses and hurries out the door to catch the bus trundling down city streets, where she ponders meaning of the strange dream, then runs from elevator to her desk where she sits down just in time to begin. While typing numbers in spreadsheet of costs to calculate rate of profit and loss, Zixuan feels weird glow of transcendent faith radiate from center of the universe so she floats on fairy wings of desire to fly through maze of ever-winding time. "So how can I touch your time on my way to destiny hidden in cave of love where every soul who ever lived on Earth floats faceless in diamond eyes of my heart?" Zixuan softly sings as she enters values, and peers around to make sure no one hears. Sudden hear-wrenching screams of abject terror shock her and everyone around from work, so, when Zixuan sees the man fired last week stabbing people as he runs down the aisle, she grabs large accounting book with both hands and whacks his face so hard he falls back stunned. Shaking with surprise as she drops the book, Zixuan cries while police swarm into the office, then sits and catches her breath to gain calm when young police woman records her statement. Walking down to the ancient lake of eyes, she finds turtle of her heart healed with love.
But One Small Creature
But One Small Creature © Surazeus 2025 01 25 Because she can imagine in her mind so many possible futures of life unfolding before her hesitant feet that lead to unknown outcomes, good or bad, Florence stands till under the rowan tree and listens to the robin sing instead. Narrow scope of her vision at her feet expands forever wider from her spot to enclose valley of river and trees with vibrant wholeness now round as her eye till sense of vastness overwhelms her heart and she feels her smallness on the huge Earth. "How large is this Earth of mountains and vales?" Florence asks the robins with sense of awe, but they keep chirping in their little world. "Just as the tree is the world to the bird, this vale consists of everything I know, but I cannot see beyond far dark hills." "Just as the bird is small in its huge tree, I am but one small creature on this Earth, so I can stand here alone on my spot, safe in this meadow of familiar trees where I have lived my entire span of life, or I can explore beyond my own world." Staring at the river sparkling with sunlight, Florence ponders which direction to start. "The river always flows one certain way, so I will go with the flow of its bright dream, and see how far it goes until it ends, most likely in the world-enclosing sea." She follows curvaceous flow of the river that winds among hills in thick crowded woods, where she treads lightly with cautious alertness, then onto broad open plain of hard winds, where she strides quickly into glowing haze, stopping to eat and rest each afternoon. Sliding down steep grassy slope to the beach, Florence marches out to edge of the world and stands imbued with wonder of wild joy to see boundless waves of the swirling sea. "The Earth is so much bigger than I thought, enormous globe that floats in sea of stars." Startled by sight of sturdy wooden boat that slides onto sand, Florence greets the man with silver eyes who steps boldly on shore with net of wriggling fish and shouts with joy. Roasting fish on the fire as the sun sets, Florence and Reynard eat and sing with love.
Friday, January 24, 2025
If David Had Failed
If David Had Failed © Surazeus 2025 01 24 The lark sparrow hops in the grassy pond beside marble statue half-sunk in mud depicting David that Bernini carved. Eating ripe apple in the Texas field, Marie imagines if David had failed, killed by Goliath who unstrung his harp. The pond is lonely for her honesty, wounded by rubber tires of travesty so Marie throws apple core at the sky who wakes with grumpiness to ask her why, but when she points at statue of the king the Sky God gives her his favorite ring. Fierce horsemen approaches on dusty plain, hands grasping at wavery wisps of rain, so Marie mirrors to the Hungry Man true nature of his avaricious mind, "You take from people, but give nothing back, because kind decency is what you lack." Dragging statue of David from the mud, the Hungry Man smears the land with our blood, then erects idol of the Shepherd King killing the tyrant with his humble sling in the center of the Capitol Dome to imitate the proud Caesars of Rome. Standing at podium of the President, the Hungry Man defames the Seer of Kent. "David was a loser, and malcontent because his ego became turgescent and swollen with hatred, and arrogant, and nasty when he refused to pay rent." Raising her hand at the press conference, Marie presents several skulls of dead kings. "Jesus, Augustus, Krishna, Jupiter, Napoleon, Hitler, and Lucifer. These men all reigned over mankind with power but now they are food for the tree and flower." Staring in shock at the Mother of God, the Hungry Man hurls sharp spear at her heart, but she snatches it in her hand and grins. "Have mercy on the people in our country who are scared now of the hatred you bear, for we are all equal in sight of God." "Your hunger will destroy the world we love, so though you now possess the Golden Bough you will play scapegoat of the sacrifice that will cleanse the world with blood of the lamb." The Hungry Man flees in the wilderness where the Shepherd King defeats him with love.
How Beautiful I Was
How Beautiful I Was © Surazeus 2025 01 24 When the old woman in faded green dress asks Peter what he is doing, he sneers, "I am hanging out till the end of time." He gasps surprised when she gives a beer and slyly grins, "It will help to be drunk when the devils tear everything apart." Sitting together on splintered park bench, Peter and the old woman with gray hair say nothing at all while he drinks the beer. She laughs, "I met my husband on this bench just after I escaped from Buchenwald and sailed to England in small fishing boat." Staring sideways at her old wrinkled face, Peter chuckles and pulls down tattered sleeve to hide swastika tattoo on his arm. "My mother works at the national bank and I just dress like this to make her mad." She reaches up and tugs his spiked mohawk. "You are no real Nazi, you cute little putz," she snickers and twaddles ring in his nose, then leans head on his shoulder with a sigh. "When I was fourteen at my house in Munich, six Nazis broke in and beat up my father because he taught philosophy at Ludwig." Caressing his cheek as he stares surprised, the old woman with long scar on her face hugs him tightly then sighs, "They made me cook schnitzels and spaetzle, then each took their turn pretending I was his cute faithful wife, dressed in white lace dress with ribbons and bows." Clutching his left hand with bright cheerful smile, she makes him caress the scar on her face. "And on the seventh day they cut my face, and left me for dead, all bloodied and bruised, on steps of my synagogue they burned down. You should have seen how beautiful I was." Wrenching himself with horror from her grasp, Peter runs home and upstairs to his room where he shaves the mohawk with razor blade, scrubs the fake tattoo clean off of his soul, and washes in the shower for two hours, then dresses in his sunday suit with tie. Staring in shock when he walks in her office, Sharon mutely nods her head when her son applies to work as accountant or clerk, then cries with wonder to see him apply serious attention to finance spreadsheets that calculate fall of the British Empire.
Noble Deeds Of Good
Noble Deeds Of Good © Surazeus 2025 01 24 Staring into empty well of his mind, Zarthus focuses attention of hope on ghost of his ancestors who stare back with intense contempt of indifferent Nature who emerges from shadow of his faith as serpent woman with seductive eyes. Wearing mask of young police officer named Michael Adams, son of the town banker, Zarthus patrols the streets of Somewhere City to capture criminals, rapists, and thieves, who respect not the rights of other people to pursue happiness through liberty. When his father, Bank President James Adams, calls him on the telephone in his car to evict James Dunn and his family from their old house by the car factory for failing to keep up with mortgage payments, he knocks in their door with sad trepidation. Standing beside Zarthus, who wears disguise as good police officer who upholds justice, James explains, "Arnold Patterson the Third, best friends with your father, fired me last week because I am black so he can hire whites, so that is the reason I cannot pay." "You and me, we went to high school together," James smiles, "and played on the same football team, winning the championship our senior year, so I hope you would help me to convince your father to suspend payments for now till I can find another paying job." Analyzing level of social morals, Zarthus, Angel of Justice under Raguel, whispers as voice of conscience in the heart of Officer Michael Adams that justice demands he arrest the real criminals, the Banker and the greedy Factory Owner. Casting Angel of Justice from his heart, Officer Adams evicts the Dunn family, James and Rachel with their five hungry children, forcing them to leave the old run-down house with nothing but one suitcase with some clothes, then reports to his father at the bank. Deserting the promising officer who would have performed noble deeds of good, Zarthus watches him run and win election as Attorney General of Bannassaw, where he protects bankers and factory owners who exploit poor people for fiscal gain.
Words Make Her Invisible
Words Make Her Invisible © Surazeus 2025 01 24 Her words disturb the silence of the world so Mary puts them in the secret box till someone asks where she has disappeared to though she is standing right in front of them, because her words make her invisible except to ghosts in the mirror of love. Through cryptographic message of her name, which no one ever hears spoken aloud, she warns them how illusions of their world cannot shield their souls from reality, so she becomes absence that haunts their days, always mute in dim shadows of their fears. Down by the creek in endless purple rain where she discusses politics with frogs the crowd assembles from unspoken fear to berate her with hate of broken tongues the shocking fact that trees will never care till she assures them the sun has not died. Yet when the Gift Giver, dressed in red cloak, appears with bags of presents for them all, they beat him up and steal concepts of wealth which they find are nothing but plastic toys so they chase him out of town with pitchforks which they never use to harvest the grain. While she stands in the wet field by the oak, watching for signs of change in the still sky, she writes no lessons for people to learn in the blank book that quivers in her hand till it transforms into the hungry crow who waits patiently on the red stop sing. When she tries to explain to the church ghosts that the chandelier of famous glass masks has fallen from the weird celestial realm, they laugh and walk across the broken bridge to throw their sorrows in the frozen stream as smooth stones that clatter and roll away. Awake with startled curiosity, she gazes through the global telescope which lets her see grand monuments of state, but she adjusts the settings with the dial to see faces of people in each land but finds their names carved in their eyes with pain. Hoping to understand what motivates their casual performance of long-dead gods, she asks each person she meets on the road if they remember when the star-eyed man walked among them with diamonds in his hand, but they shake their heads, and she cries alone.
Thursday, January 23, 2025
Puzzle Of Your Heart
Puzzle Of Your Heart © Surazeus 2025 01 23 "If I could solve the puzzle of your heart," Martin frowns at portrait of Jennifer on the living room wall by her piano, "then I could see whole frame of reference by which you play your role of well-loved star!" then scatters puzzle pieces on the floor. "If I could hear the music of your soul," Jennifer smiles while her delicate fingers dance with elegant grace on ivory keys, "then I could hear andante of your hope so I can play in harmony of trust with intense sonata of your desires." "If they could readjust their attitudes," Sarah groans, lounging lazy on her bed and listening to songs of Taylor Swift, "then they could learn to communicate love by aligning thoughts with one metaphor to connect their hearts with credulous trust." "Stuck in tense drama of their busy lives," the old homeless man on their front stoop sighs while eating black beans from old rusty can, "these crazy rich people, safe in their home of precious art that feeds the hungry soul, cannot perceive the treasure of their hearts." Sight-reading melody of lonely angst in sad sonata Jennifer composed, Martin hears lacrimoso of her hope that she expressed with sweet gleam in her eyes the first time they strolled on the river shore and kissed with affettuoso by the elm. Assembling scherzando notes of desire in pastoral puzzle scene Martin designed, Jennifer perceives romantic respect that he expressed with gestures of his hands when she birthed their daughter in the sea cave during their vacation on the sail boat. Spying her parents dance by candlelight, Sarah grins at game of passionate love while mouthing new lyrics for the love song, "Autumn leaves fall like pieces into place, so I picture it after all these days how magic is back like wind in my hair." "I never heard the music of her heart, and she never solved weird puzzle of mine," the old homeless man mumbles in the night, "so I got lost in labyrinth of despair and cannot find my way back to her garden where she must be happy without me now."
Muse Of Misty Moors
Muse Of Misty Moors © Surazeus 2025 01 23 His breath contains strange music of the world when Mike breathes air of our souls in bone flute which arouses from graves of rattling bones every ghost who has ever lived on Earth, who swirl around him on the spotlit stage and haunt the audience with horror of hope. His hands light candles in deserted church as Mike prays to his muse of misty moors, Our Sad-Eyed Lady of One Thousand Doors, who whispers secret name of every soul alive somewhere on spinning globe of time who feel flame of her heart light up their eyes. His knees ache with decades of farming fields when Mike crouches to toss log in the hearth that crackles with seed of the sun-conceived at cry of shore birds on the mussel reefs, then cradles new-born baby in his arms and welcomes her to this mystical world. His fingers pluck dew-wet herbs from the garden as Mike collects eggs and berries in baskets, then grins to see the fluffy leveret hop with leaves of the fuchsia crunched by her teeth, then pats the tractor half-lurched in cold mud to enter cottage by the dragon sea. His eyes peer at the spinning compass arrow that always points the right way to perform role of the patriot in occupied land, yet Mike sets it carefully in the box with medals and photos of long-dead men shot by careless soldiers of the blind crown. His tongue is parched to taste delicious tea, so Mike fills crock with snow water of faith, then boils it on respectful flames to steep leaves of Cloud Mist Tea with just the right flow of sparkling water from the mountain peak, then sips sweet nectar of transcendent gods. His feet snuggle warm blanket by the hearth when Mike relaxes on cold wintry night to muse with snarky rustic grin, "My home is hollow between restless waves of time," then sips hot tea of cosmic confidence in his small town lit by the Milky Way. His hair swirls wild in morning wind of trust as Mike and Edna walk up stony path to pause among the fairy rings of friendship where he sings melody of faithful love while sitting with his wife on chilly stone for fifty years beside the windy pond.
Pot Of Water
Pot Of Water © Surazeus 2025 01 23 Face down in dirt of abject verity, Geb asks the cold lake rock how to make fire, till the hare of loneliness sniffs his nose, so he touches soft tip of the wheat shoot, and remembers spilling grains in this spot, so he sits up and sees wheat all around. Arranging stones in circle on the shore, Geb explains his reasoning to the hare. "Last time I sparked fire by clashing two stones those hot flames escaped control of my hands, but I noticed that stones limit their scope, so the stone circle may contain its force." Tending flames that crackle in evening dusk, Geb savors thick scent of water and mud, then glances up at sudden flash of light when crescent moon emerges from the sea, and floats on waves with shimmer of delight before ascending to the starry sky. Drawn by sweet scent of flowers in her hair, Geb watches Nut with curious intent as she molds thick red clay to imitate shape of the turtle shell that she once used to carry water from the sparkling stream, but now leaks because of some tiny cracks. Setting shell-shaped clay pot beside hot fire, Nut slowly turns it till it hardens dry, covers coals with rocks that glow red with heat, places pot hollow downward on hot rocks, then stacks firewood around it pointing up, which erupts in flames to bake the pot hard. After scraping ash and dust off her pot, Nut grins and places it flat on her head then walks down to the clear blue sparkling stream and fills it full with water to its brim, then, bearing it carefully on her head, she brings it back to their small four-pole hut. Setting pot of water on large flat stone on ring of stones above the crackling flames, Nut waits till water boils with bubbling pops, then fills it with fresh vegetables and herbs, topping it with yolk from six cracked egg shells, and hums will stirring hot stew for their meal. Peeling skin off the hare he cuts with blade of sharpened stone, Geb drops chunks in the stew, and smiles when they take turns lifting the pot to drink sweet memories of the fertile Earth, soft meat warming their hearts as cold rain falls, splattering on leaf roof that shelters their souls.
Holy Land Earth
Holy Land Earth © Surazeus 2025 01 23 The way we travel forward over land becomes ideal concept of the Road which functions as straight progress to our goal through empty space where trees no longer grow, so we signify with names of the dead advancement of our journey in our head. Bearing basket of berries, nuts, and eggs that dangles on her arm with casual joy, Gearthe strolls across the meadow of flowers from her home in small cave on the hill slope to the apple woods where the river flows so many times her feet blaze road of hope. Entranced by elegant grace of her being as she glides with confidence on her way, Wulfgard sits nonchalantly by large stone halfway between the river and her home, hoping to catch attention of her eyes by lounging as he strums the harp and sings. Enchanted by harmony of his voice that beams vision of love with charming words, Gearthe visits with Wulfgard by the stone each day after they walk along her road, and she cooks meals with produce he provides, eating together at dawn, noon, and eve. Bearing three children from seed of his love, Gearthe teaches them to explore her way along the roads her curious nature blazed, gathering food and water from apple woods, then weave flower wreaths in the evening glow as they drink cider and sing in her cave. Lured from their homestead by swift running deer, Wulfgard faces through the woods many miles, then bears it back to roast and smoke its meat, but finds their children weeping in the cave because three men dragged their mother away, so he follows the trail to find his wife. Approaching castle of stone on high hill, Wulfgard demands they free his honest bride, so tall man wearing gold crown with long sword fights contest over who will wed the girl, but when Wulfgard defeats the haughty king he pushes her out window of the tower. Bearing dying Gearthe home in his arms, Wulfgard lays her broken soul by the stone where she sang ballads while he strummed the harp, and declares, "I name this holy land Earth, and our children I call Gerthmanians," then kisses her soul as she fades away.
Wednesday, January 22, 2025
Cute Haloed Cherub
Cute Haloed Cherub © Surazeus 2025 01 22 Cute haloed cherub of my shadow mind dances as candle flame of my desire, brave protector of our world languages so everyone can understand true love where two people do not have to wear masks when they walk together on road of life. Cute haloed cherub of the ticking clock scatters seeds of revolution for truth in fertile soil of fate-embittered minds that sprout into gangsters with blasting guns who fight against the corporate government till their godfather invades the White House. Cute haloed cherub of chemical lust binds hearts of strangers with red thread of love who gamble with fate of the falling star by selling bodies to angel of wealth so they can build new quaint suburban home with television and a backyard pool. Cute haloed cherub of stark nothingness maps maze of myths in vast metropolis where people gather in the church of hope to pray for coming of the star-eyed king who founds world empire on the laughing skull where they may slave in factories of faith. Cute haloed cherub of the bleeding moon gives oranges to young lovers in the park who split each other open with sweet words to eat their juicy hearts with thirsty tongues till they transform into strange characters who star in television sitcom shows. Cute haloed cherub of the empty sky offers to fly us up to paradise so we board the airplane of progressive code that soars above Glow Cloud where no gods sing, then crash-lands lost on Isle of Avalon where we build a socialist society. Cute haloed cherub of the viking ship leads refugees from the holy crusade across wild ocean of the howling ghost on endless quest to find the Promised Land where we build empire of the hungry snake, now lost in the haunted amusement park. Cute haloed cherub of paradise lost gives me cracked mask of Lucifer to wear, so, high on pyramid of the one eye, I rule world empire of Zarathia based on liberty and justice for all who fight each other for the ring of power.
Gulf Of Mexico
Gulf Of Mexico © Surazeus 2025 01 22 With every wave that washes on the shore as laughing gulls circle our open door our hearts rejoice at paradise we share to watch free ships glide where wild angels fare. We sing sweet beauty of the sunrise glow that shimmers on the Gulf of Mexico. Though thieves take control in the House of Power to worship Golden Calf in the high tower, our hearts hunger to sacrifice their bull and feast on roast beef till our souls are full. We lounge together in the sunrise glow that shimmers on the Gulf of Mexico. If our star-spangled banner may still wave over paradise lost we cannot save, our hearts hail Light of Liberty that shines through gloom of tyranny veiling name signs. We huddle and wait for the sunrise glow that shimmers on the Gulf of Mexico. Amazed by beauty of our spacious skies above fruited plains paved over by lies, our hearts confirm our soul with self-control, fair liberty in law our common goal. We join hands at flash of the sunrise glow that shimmers on the Gulf of Mexico. Eager to work for our new Golden Age where everyone plays on the social stage, our hearts as one heed the clarion call to build liberty through justice for all. We march forth as one with the sunrise glow that shimmers on the Gulf of Mexico. To mourn tragic fall of America by following Corn Goddess Onatah, our hearts join brave plan of Columbia who guides us to found free Zarathia. We work together in the sunrise glow that shimmers on the Gulf of Mexico. Opposed to white nationalist tyranny, supporting rainbow world democracy, our hearts embrace every human on Earth who breathe ethereal soul of divine worth. We hold hands and dance at the sunrise glow that shimmers on the Gulf of Mexico. Awake with compassion for every soul who seeks to live their individual role, our hearts incorporate in nation of faith every person born from one Mother Wraith. We feast with free will in the sunrise glow that shimmers on the Gulf of Mexico.
Golden Age Of Rome
Golden Age Of Rome © Surazeus 2025 01 22 To enjoy avarice of happiness, Robert clutches hands of the ticking clock, vainly attempting to stop flow of change, and roots himself in jagged Earth of hope, but time drags his soul beyond history and throws him in the saurian grave of fame. To savor delirium of vain sureness, Robert knots heart with innocent guile to press knife-edge of faith against the future who mocks his anguish of splintered contempt, hopeless about saving his wife and child from trash fire of the new fascist regime. To raise the cross of the Crucified King, Robert attempts to analyze despair, ripping pages from holy book of lies, compulsory healing upending truth when priests declare him the mad heretic who builds barbwire fence around his death chapel. To study the lizard breathing foul smog, Robert declares himself, with puffing throat, to be the Great Lord of this universe where prophets sit on cliffs and swing their feet while watching vultures rule in the White House till Melusine devours them to save Earth. To walk in glazed moonlight of honest rage, Robert journeys into dark maple woods where herds of cows graze over graves of gods, drawn by unlimited desire to know truth about lust humans hide in their hearts by wearing Christian mask of charity. To understand lessons of history, Robert watches old films where Hitler shouts, "Make America great again over all!" then salutes the Fasces ax with twelve spears that honors this new Golden Age of Rome, where Red Cross soldiers trample everyone. To grasp beautiful fragile light of life, Robert intermeshes limbs of his flesh to incarnate fierce soul of Lucifer in bold rebellion against King of Greed who sends sycophantic minions to fight holy crusade against the southern horde. To express avarice of loneliness, Robert wanders across vast field of snow where ravens in oak trees give him mushrooms so he can eat the broken hearts of gods and wake from delirious womb of Earth to laugh because cruel tyrants always fall.
Good Hero Guards
Good Hero Guards © Surazeus 2025 01 22 Behind this social mask of my true face I am the emptiness of time and space, yet pure immortal light of our Sun God gleams divine consciousness in my soul pod, so I will shine while I am still alive, recording dreams that glow after I die. My soul is beacon of conceptual dreams that guides my journey along winding streams as I climb over obstacles of fear to find gem of truth in hand of the seer who meditates in misty mountain cave to translate timeless wisdom of the wave. Alone on mountain peak of inner sight, I measure city maze with moral light to analyze progress of human culture from food production to religious rapture, concerned when our vibrant democracy is crushed under greedy autocracy. Descending from mountain of cosmic vision, I return to mess of our teeming nation split now in two factions of civil strife that argue nature of the mother-wife, whether goddess nurtured with social care or oppressed house-servant that weak men fear. Strong men confident in their potent virtue treat women with respect of good purview, for Hero is the man who guards his wife, protecting her from harm with his own life, commissioned by Hera to honor her rights to live as she will, free from parasites. Men who try to control women are weak, and will never find the true love they seek, while men who help women grow strong with care will find paradise with her anywhere, for women generate life from our hearts when lovers calculate their fortune charts. My world view is political with hope that men will focus love with moral scope attentive to support dreams their wives cherish so their happy homes bloom rather than perish when they teach their children to live with grace that beams with divine beauty in their face. Good Hero guards his wife with honest faith to nurture radiance of her psychic wraith, so I build walls of paradise with love to secure our home with light from above when I strive to embody God in me as ideal spirit that sets my heart free.
Tuesday, January 21, 2025
Secretary Of Fate
Secretary Of Fate © Surazeus 2025 01 21 Reluctant to accept the death of hope, Elphaba talks to the sad antelope who just wants to play on the river shore, but angry dwarves keep shutting the red door which indicates their haughty attitude displayed toward those trapped in their fortitude. Considered too old to teach at the school, Elphaba invents new conceptual tool that children can use to measure the mind which many people argue was designed though she admires how she just seems to know ancient secrets recorded by the crow. Startled by how fast time seems to advance, Elphaba gives herself another chance to program how her brain perceives the world in grand narrative of the cosmic herald who appoints her Secretary of Fate responsible for dispelling all hate. Acknowledged by the people of the land, Elphaba decides it is time to stand with honest faith against the hurricane that devastates her home in Aquitaine, so she rebuilds glass church from dragon bones to safely house maidens, mothers, and crones. Contracted to paint portrait of the king on roof of chapel with the Broken Wing, Elphaba ponders the grand narrative that highlights reign of the executive who walks market streets in humble attire and plays guitar at the evening campfire. Confused by formulas of politics that empower the greedy with big sticks, Elphaba preaches socialist precepts based on justice and freedom as concepts where everyone is equal in the law, even those in Greenland and Panama. Blinded by the light of God, Truth, and Right, Elphaba writes weird dream code on the kite that flutters wings of Icarus on high, while she wanders lush meadows with a sigh that our land is controlled by criminals who operate through different principles. Wicked with energy of honest love, Elphaba takes me to the moon above where we picnic under the Tree of Truth, then she appoints me new messiah sleuth commissioned to rebuild democracy against corruption of autocracy.
Retribution Of Hate
Retribution Of Hate © Surazeus 2025 01 21 To the beautiful elegant robots who all adore his intellectual thoughts, Donald sends roses from garden of ghouls to show how much he despises fools who believe whatever the old man says though he always seem to flunk every quiz. Exercising right to party till death in close conjunction with the shibboleth, Donald stars on the television show where angels watch his character grow from comic capers of rebellious youth to noble gestures of messiah sleuth. Ascending pyramid of the mad clown who owns everything in the whole damned town, Donald wrestles fierce angel of the Lord till he stabs Raguel with bloody sword, who teaches him secret of alchemy so he founds new grifter academy. To help Lydmila rebuild her bombed home after she escapes invasion to roam random highways with no diamonds on them, Donald gives her lost empress diadem so she can reign over Russia as queen since she is granddaughter of Melusine. Reluctant to accept with honored faith results of election for the World Wraith, Donald tears doors off farmhouses and stores till Melusine makes him do the house chores as punishment for his rebellion in trying to be more Machiavellian. Humor moistens dry hearts with humid hope so we become humble learning to cope with constant disasters of fires and wars, which inspires Donald to settle old scores deep in debt to the American dream which he beats and strangles by desert stream. Sold to the highest bidder with cash, the Holy Book he then threw in the trash fools Donald into thinking with bold faith that he was appointed by the God Wraith to make America bankrupt again because only he is allowed to win. Declaring now is the new Golden Age of America from the global stage, Donald decrees retribution of hate against everybody who runs the state with intention to destroy courts of law so he can exploit the poor with gold claw.
Grief They Cannot Name
Grief They Cannot Name © Surazeus 2025 01 21 No doors of hope lead them to paradise, yet they walk alone on the signless road so when they arrive from country of fear they have nothing in their hands but mute death to give anyone who asks them for their tale, except arrogant grief they cannot name. They rise again from dust of anywhere when their homes are destroyed by unheard words, so they carry the dust of empty graves and spread it along the road where they walk forever nowhere with their loneliness because they leave their faces on lost doors. No gardens of hopes tilled by ancestral hands wait for them to return from nowhere else, but hours of sorrow are stuck in their mouths, so numb from anguish they cannot feel rage, yet they look in through windows of solitude to see the blame they refuse to accept. They try to measure how much angry air billows between them and the infinite sky, yet they never speak to anyone else who wander around in shadows of fear for their power is small as the glass bowl that cannot hold the tears they never shed. No pungent orange of juicy innocence exudes perfume of bodies on the ground that rot from hunger of exploding bombs because they never escape happiness bound inside sadness of wordless despair which they erect from broken bones of faith. They search for the city of honest peace but carry the broken city they lost in clutter rattling in bag of their hearts for they become the city they escape which haunts the bitter words they never speak to deny they live in exile from home. No beautiful bravery of tender hearts can still be found in blank eyes of the dead for their trusting faith stains alien ground all along their endless road of exile where only their shadows search for new home though they breathe for the sake of painful breath. They shelter in strange curiosity wherever they wake from death of the sun to hide their rage in new library books as graves that record grief they cannot name till their tragic lives become mournful songs that someone will sing on the dim-lit stage.
Army Of The Just
Army Of The Just © Surazeus 2025 01 21 Though her house likes to read old magazines about geography of distant lands that detail types of houses people build, Tammy is concerned about human rights, hoping to fight for the marginalized when she goes to join army of the just. Since his van likes to hang out on the beach and surf the gnarly waves of cyberspace while revving its hotrod engine with pride, Danny works for the First National Bank on secret cybersecurity team so he supports world army of the just. While his books generate conceptual worlds where wizards and dragons battle for truth till Melusine saves the world from their lust, Michael patrols rugged hills where terrorists hide as tank commander in the oil-rich land to play his part in army of the just. Since her bakery welcomes work refugees to safely eat hot soup and bread for lunch within cozy walls of her warm embrace, Carol packs food, clothing, and medicine for care packages shipped across the sea, eager to help feed army of the just. In spite of how clocks embedded in oaks store her memories in sad fairy tales that calculate disbursement of state funds, Karen teaches her kindergarten class social justice of Huckleberry Finn, training them to join army of the just. Before his piano dances on dunes with faith-arrogant wings of Lucifer for concert he plays at the Parthenon, Lucien visits children in hospitals stricken with cancer, and raises more funds to help resurrect army of the just. After his church flies on propeller wings to drop Bibles on jungle villages that explode when children find them in fields, Marco adjusts values on the spreadsheet to analyze profit and loss each year, hoping to evade army of the just. Though the crucifix boasts with humble pride that God chose him to start the Golden Age by giving him the bull of Mount Sinai, Brigit herds sheep on meadow by the sea to sing elegies for slain warriors who disappear from army of the just.
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