Axiom Of Free Will

Axiom Of Free Will
© Surazeus
2026 09 27

Driven to live by axiom of free will, 
we humans clash in wars to control air 
by twisting light of quick atomic lust 
into swift piston-powered time-machines 
so we race through expanding maze of dreams 
to catch ghost of wealth before we all die. 

I dare not pay this time its needful woe 
since grief, at thought that millions of sweet souls 
suffer and die in shocking agony 
through countless centuries of clockless change, 
twists my heart with helplessness of desire 
to protect the living from pain of fear. 

Our fragile bodies of bones bound with nerves, 
and muscles tense with terror of attack, 
vibrate with passion of powerful faith 
to fight against oppression of the strong 
as we secure safe haven from their greed 
in loyal union of communal creed. 

Through better act of purposes we play 
direct attention to commissioned faith 
that blinds our eyes to perceive what is real, 
since faith presents what we most hope is real, 
yet veils the real that pains our hearts to see, 
which leaves us stumbling against obstacles.

We overcome through axiom of free will 
illusions of hard obstacles that block 
assertive progress of our psychic growth 
as we reprogram how our minds perceive 
complex process of social games we play 
through fraught interactions of give and take. 

I cry woe for brave people of this land 
who once thrived well to work daily routines 
constructing goods from raw material forms 
to produce wealth of our national pride, 
but now our free minds are enslaved by greed 
through sweet enchantments of commercial thieves. 

Deceived by outward show of businessmen, 
whose flashy wealth convinced our eager hearts 
that hard work will earn rich rewards of wealth, 
we clutch at tattered rainbow fantasy 
that money trickles down to callused hands, 
which we stretch empty to the godless sky. 

Inspired to work by axiom of free will, 
we sort through trash of treasures we obtain 
by plundering bounty of this generous globe, 
yet find no more than baubles of regret 
that clutter quaint suburban homes with junk 
which gleamed so bright in church of holy lies. 

Bridge Of Broken Minds

Bridge Of Broken Minds
© Surazeus
2026 09 27

I feel in my heart strange desire to sing 
but lie mute under shadow of the wing 
that presses me to center of the globe 
so I transform to nothing but blind lobe 
that pulses with compassion for the lost 
whose fate reveals what greedy hope has cost. 

While dream-biking on bridge of broken minds 
I stop to call the demon whose heart binds 
billions of human souls in web of pain 
though we assemble to laugh in cold rain 
that drenches waste land in our angel tears 
which cannot cleanse our bodies of harsh fears. 

That moment when you wake up from blind dread 
and see ghost of my name outside your head 
remember all the moments of our love 
we spent together in the starlit cave 
because the hot pulse of those memories 
will vanish bright as rain in thirsty seas. 

Look closely at wavering ghost of my soul 
and you will see the fragment of the whole 
as contradiction twisting what you feel, 
then you will know that I am always real 
while fears that haunt your wounded heart are fake 
as weird illusion your fraught desires make. 

Though wind blows weeds beside the country road 
I ride my bike past pond where moon-eyed toad 
reveals in wordless vision of my heart 
weird beauty of false faith in starless chart 
that glows as constellation of god stars 
which shimmers at the passing of glass cars. 

Your words of faith I hear on phone of trust 
dispel demonic anger of the ghost 
that follows me on endless road of fate 
so love for life blossoms from rotten hate 
as lotus bloom that weaves my tangled soul 
in psychic matrix of the cosmic whole. 

My bloody feet leave prints on signless road 
where I run from exploding bombs of God 
dropped by his angels from swift silver jets 
that transform into thirsty vampire bats, 
so I hold emptiness in mangled hands 
while I wander homeless on kingless lands. 

Ghost of my childhood flees from flashing bombs 
to hide from devils in abandoned tombs 
while planes of tyrants scream across the sky 
in howl of vain victory that drowns the cry 
of orphaned children who attempt to pray, 
then build new world order on the True Way. 

Visible Wings Of Silence

Visible Wings Of Silence
© Surazeus
2026 09 27

On visible wings of silence I dance 
outside enclosing walls of paradise 
so beaming scope of consciousness expands 
huge enough for my small mind to perceive 
vastness of this world on which we thrive, 
itself so small in whole expanse of stars. 

On visible wings of silence I leap 
beyond small valley where my soul was born 
to push through tangled veil of fencing vines 
in bold quest to explore the strange new world 
which I glimpse in dim dreams of eager hope 
where nameless people know not I exist. 

On visible wings of silence I soar 
far high above huge swirling clouds of hope 
to find the crystal halls of gleaming truth 
that form bright Heaven of my fantasies 
through longing ache to escape hard toil in fields 
of sour exhaustion under whips of greed. 

On visible wings of silence I glide 
with sly clandestine plan of calm respect 
to slip past guards with sharp spears of contempt 
and flee in shadowed woods of innocence 
far from the bitter whips of slavery 
since I got trapped in paradise of greed. 

On visible wings of silence I twirl 
high on broad stone of defiant disgust 
to fight slave-hunters rattling chains of fear 
in quick avoidance of their grasping hands 
intent on binding my free heart with greed 
that motivates my desperate fight to live. 

On visible wings of silence I turn 
back toward safe valley of my spirit birth, 
where my old mother must still cook for me, 
with swift assertion of my liberty 
through endless maze of sunlit mountain glades 
till I stumble in safe grove of my home. 

On visible wings of silence I flip 
over safe haven walls of paradise 
where I hide soul of frantic energy, 
then with assembled warriors of my tribe 
we ambush cruel slave-traders by the lake 
and kill them all to maintain liberty. 

On visible wings of silence I fall 
from clouds of Heaven on frail tattered wings 
so fantasies of utopian paradise 
dissipate in heat of long afternoons 
when I toil in fruit orchard of my heart 
that tastes sweet as my life in liberty. 

Fractured Sense Of Self

Fractured Sense Of Self
© Surazeus
2026 09 26

If our remembered time of happiness 
lurks eyelessly about half-broken doors 
with dauntless urgency of naked thoughts, 
who would dare require cruel fate to relent 
his harsh decree that frail innocent souls 
should suffer turmoil of national change. 

No graceful spell of unspoken support, 
developed by assertive breath of fear, 
could reassemble fractured sense of self 
dispersed by mocking laughter of concern 
to scatter randomly in empty room 
where gentle sorrow understands the why. 

So we drive cars on endless road of hope 
with urgent message from the fruitless tree 
which curls roots under asphalt parking lots 
with dire compassion for the homeless souls 
who clamor to perform Shakespearean roles 
through pride in Theater of the Absurd. 

As ceaseless lackey to eternity, 
entranced by ghastly shadows of my soul, 
I should devise strange plots of social games 
to outwit mockery of the jester-king 
whose disrespect for values of the just 
shocks honest folk with paralyzed contempt. 

With easy steps of faithless honesty 
I wander landscape of state memories 
now cluttered with false idols of brave fools 
whose hateful missions of aggressive rage 
against lost homeless refugees from wars 
should smirch his soul with curse of bitter fear. 

Long did my fearful forefathers request 
miraculous aid from Heaven above clouds 
of glowing beauty with fervent faithfulness, 
but no voice spoke except in wordless cracks 
of horrifying thunder to provide 
divine guidance to their misguided quest. 

Undisciplined by nobleness of mind, 
their urgent mission to create on Earth 
utopian commune of the Promised Land 
failed to expand our conscious scope of faith 
beyond intense routine of crafting work 
transforming raw materials to machines. 

Now global revolution is at hand 
through jolting buzz of passionate desire, 
which deconstructs world view that furnished frame 
for noble actions of heroic souls, 
so we must spark as flame in fear-numb hearts 
brave resolution to rebuild our state. 

Laughing Thief Of Grace

Laughing Thief Of Grace
© Surazeus
2026 09 26

I wonder at life of absurdity 
where weak men crippled by arrogant faith 
gain power over honest carpenters 
by twisting moral numbers of concern 
to propagate false vision of their right 
contrived by Cloud Ghost to be sacred law. 

As honest fugitive from words of pride, 
that twist our language into holy prayer, 
I grin at keening sun of solitude 
to polish secrets of my brittle bones 
repaired by shocking miracle of lies 
that cannot soothe the sword blade in my heart. 

If I can stop the laughing thief of grace 
from chopping down the ancient Tree of Life 
that blooms in garden of the weeping bride, 
I might play role as Emperor of Earth 
too well for happy people to obey 
commands that we take care of this weird world. 

My crippled hand of brave euphoria 
may listen to harsh darkness in your heart 
to bless our tables with plates of fresh fruit 
that scents our doorless home of frantic wings 
with pungent memories of eventide 
on river shores where unnamed bodies float. 

She asks if I remember why she cries, 
but laughs at all my answers as cruel lies, 
so I reflect on each mistake I make 
while eating sorrow of her chocolate cake 
that teaches me to grieve all suffering 
too many people bear while angels sing. 

We treasure secret visions of ourselves 
that we preserve in books no one can read 
while tending wounds that only devils see 
though jewels, dusted with pollen of flowers, 
refract conceptual spirit of Star God 
through pulsing passion of our sponge-soft brains. 

Crippled by impotent hatreds from fear, 
which motivates our journey for the Book, 
we search for crystal halls where blind gods feast 
while they ignore the suffering of humans 
who kneel and pray in churches built from bones 
for salvation from laughing thief of grace. 

Thus when I deconstruct religious creeds 
I find they elevate dead mortal king 
as powerful god who creates all things, 
so I leave maze of money to ascend 
misty vales of Mount Takoma to merge 
my mortal soul with timeless light of truth. 

Holy Word Of Arrogance

Holy Word Of Arrogance
© Surazeus
2026 09 26

Surprised by holy word of arrogance 
that teaches him to understand the trees, 
Iapetus laughs while heaving stone of faith 
at gusts of storm winds blasting his frail hut 
where wife and children huddle in stark fear, 
so he builds fane to shield them with his heart. 

Inspired by holy word of arrogance 
that sparks strange fire of wisdom in his brain, 
Prometheus sets stones in ring of hope 
to well contain the writhing flame of light 
of flashing chaos inside frame of thought 
so he can manage power of the sky. 

Disturbed by holy word of arrogance 
that tricks him to look back down road of fate, 
Epimetheus subdues bear with sharp claws, 
then sews fur cloak for Pandora to wear 
as she holds precious box of secret truth 
when they walk in broad field of sparkling snow. 

Concerned by holy word of arrogance 
that presses stars down on our mortal heads, 
Atlas supports globe of Earth with brave trust 
when he constructs tall roof of pine-tree beams 
where his clever daughters, Hesperides, 
guard orchard of golden apples from thieves. 

Engorged by holy word of arrogance 
that drives him to oppose tyrants of greed, 
Menoetius declares with boastful voice 
that he crowns himself Emperor of Earth 
because his acts are the most beautiful, 
till Zeus strikes him down with his thunderbolt. 

Deceived by holy word of arrogance 
that highlights beauty of brave Helios, 
Clymene bears him son she names Phaethon 
who drives huge two-wheeled chariot of fire 
in noble battle against Uranus 
to free the world from tyranny of greed. 

Intrigued by holy word of arrogance 
that diverts focus of his searching eyes, 
Deucalion constructs huge ark of wood 
where he bears Pyrrha, loyal bride of trust, 
safe during flood that destroys world of men, 
to dwell on Mount Parnassus in fruit grove. 

Amazed by holy word of arrogance 
that shows indifference of Nature to Man, 
Cronus wields sharp blade of justice to fight 
violent Uranus in Temple of Truth, 
which Iapetus built to shield human souls, 
through war to cast cruel Titans into Hell. 

Eyeless Agony Of Faith

Eyeless Agony Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 09 26

Nothing explodes from glass page of the book 
writhing with tongueless ghosts of long-dead gods, 
so Albert walks past hundred thousand doors 
to find the person who reflects his soul 
with comprehensive formulas of faith 
that weave their bodies from demonic genes. 

Bearing gold wand with curling snake of hope, 
Adonis strides on brittle bridge of blame 
while hawk of justice leaps from his bold hand 
and strikes face of the tyrant on the throne 
who screams in eyeless agony of faith 
when his son takes jeweled crown of regret. 

Concerned about electric memory 
translating all our dreams to lurid myths, 
Adonijah declares himself World King 
and strides with courage in grand temple hall 
where David clutches broken lyre of power 
while chanting psalms to praise the Shepherd God. 

Appointed Chief Happiness Officer 
by Aphrodite with long golden hair, 
Adam woos her with basket of fresh fruit 
he stole from Tree of Knowledge at midnight, 
then builds enormous palace of glass masks 
from bones of dragons killed by meteors. 

Reigning as God over River of Time, 
Achelous son of Elus stands alert 
on Bridge of Farsight as Guardian of Life, 
but when he sees gold-eyed Perimede, 
he wrestles Hercules to win her heart, 
though she hides in Cave of Castalia. 

Born from song of the Ocean before dawn, 
Abassi floats above the crowded world 
on silver wings of laughter forged from fear, 
then wakes and drives to work constructing homes, 
till immigrant agents wearing black masks 
lock him in sprawling deportation camp. 

After his analyst job at the state bank 
is replaced by robot with angel eyes 
powered by artificial intelligence, 
Ares drinks beer at the old country bar, 
then sings cowboy songs on stage every night 
and sleeps in his truck behind some garage. 

Inspired to run for President Earth 
with plan to unite all nations in one, 
Apollo campaigns sea to shining sea 
till Pluto tries to shoot him in the head, 
so Dream-Enchanter eats the nuclear bomb 
and retires to work on the Family Farm. 

Electric Curl Of Words

Electric Curl Of Words
© Surazeus
2026 09 25

Unfrightened by electric curl of words, 
Mayari glides backward up blue glass stairs 
and scatters large mango seeds on dry sand 
of endless desert where snakes slither slow, 
then waters waste land with her tears of hope 
so they sprout into lush forest of trees. 

Unbalanced by excessive thoughts of love, 
Bathala extends both hands to retrieve 
glass mask of the moon that reveals weird soul 
that shy Mayari hides behind broad leaves 
rustled by cool breeze from silver sea waves 
preserving secrets in whispers of faith. 

Gliding gracefully in long woven skirt, 
Mayari notes disk of first quarter moon 
that shimmers in early afternoon sky 
above mango trees where red-eyed pungaws 
sing koo-oo with compassion for lost souls 
who wander on Cagayan River shore. 

Driving motorbike along winding road 
of eager ambition to achieve wealth, 
Bathala stops beside young graceful girl, 
whose long black hair shimmers thick down her back, 
and offers ride to Scarecrow Festival 
to celebrate Bambati Guardianship. 

Transforming into pungaw with black wings, 
Mayari soars up to bright flashing clouds 
in silver airplane forged from angel wings 
to land in Idaho far across the sea 
where she falls in love with the bank accountant 
who funds her folk art painting forest scenes. 

Bearing sphere of the sunset in her heart, 
Mayari in red dress strolls in wheat field, 
then sits and dangles feet in flowing stream 
while watching white birds flock across the sky 
across the snowy Sawtooth Mountains peaks 
as ribbon in her hair flutters in wind. 

Inventing new language of innocence, 
Phoebus weaves silence between minds of strangers 
in sweet romance that blossoms from their hearts 
when they hold hands and listen to the wind 
explain how sunlight sparks life in all things 
so we become one with the universe. 

Nursing their new-born daughter at her breast, 
Mayari hums lullaby about Leron 
who climbs papaya tree with bamboo basket 
to gather fruit from sacred tree of knowledge, 
preserving treasure, though the long branch breaks, 
which he gives to wife and child of his heart. 

Crafting Hands Of Hope

Crafting Hands Of Hope
© Surazeus
2026 09 25

Through lyrical expression of my thoughts 
in undulating waves of rhythmic verse 
I feel this timeless moment crystalize 
in momentary vision of insight 
that lifts my mind on bold attentive wings 
outside conceptual frame of changing time. 

Apollo glances up from plucking strings 
at sudden pang of sorrow in his heart, 
and stares with sigh of ennui at the crowd 
of housewives browsing full vegetable stands, 
and wonders if heroic tale of courage 
he longs to express would inspire their souls. 

When Hadad threatens Dagon with sharp knife, 
demanding that he compensate his loss 
for rotten fish he sold him yesterday, 
Atargatis attempts to mediate, 
with soothing words to calm their tempers down, 
but storm-hearted man cuts her on the arm. 

Just as Apollo stands up to respond 
with attentive aid to wound on her arm, 
Mithras leaps down from ten-foot pyramid 
with sword unsheathed to guard the market queen, 
placing his body as protective shield, 
so Hadad plunges knife blade in his chest. 

As Mithras falls in arms of Atargatis, 
who tends his wound with cloth to staunch blood flow, 
Hadad attempts to flee through milling crowd, 
but Apollo leaps up small pyramid 
and shoots sharp arrow straight into his thigh 
which causes storm god to fall on his face. 

After six Seraphim arrest Hadad 
and drag him for judgement in Hall of Zeus, 
Apollo strums lyre of Mercurius 
and sings short lyric to express his thoughts 
that praise wise Atargatis with clear eyes 
for just management of the marketplace. 

"We create with our crafting hands of hope 
useful utensils from material forms 
through skill from stringent training we receive, 
so every person plays their talent role 
to maintain our food-production system, 
then gains reward from selling crafts of love." 

People who assemble to hear him sing 
toss coins stamped with face of Mercurius 
in wood bowl set before his pedestal, 
so Apollo counts profit of his art, 
then Atargatis asks if he will play 
in Temple of Zeus for the evening feast. 

Continue Our Daily Routines

Continue Our Daily Routines
© Surazeus
2026 09 25

Not sure what he may find among small stones 
smoothed by ten million years of ocean waves, 
Cronus wanders along margin of fate 
to gather clams in leather bag of hope, 
and ponders how some invisible force 
moves everything in motions of exchange. 

Through repeated patterns in swirls of time 
waves surge against broad beach of gleaming sand 
with calm aggressiveness of natural grace, 
so Cronus stops and looks back on his path 
to see imprints of his feet in long line 
that curves across landscape of glowing thoughts. 

Sharp voice that pierces silent wind of fear 
alerts his heart to vision of her face, 
so Cronus turns against obstructing wind 
to see lithe Themis by the mossy cave, 
which sparks assertive passion in his heart 
that causes him to fly on leaps of faith. 

When Cronus reaches Themis by her cave, 
gold eyes gleaming with ardent flash of dawn, 
he offers bag of clams that clank with hope, 
so she leads him in safe cave of her heart 
when he pries shells open with diamond blade 
and she roasts them over small crackling fire. 

After they feast on clams and apple sauce, 
that she crushes with stones in wooden bowl, 
Cronus and Themis embrace with desire 
to merge their bodies in warm glow of love, 
writhing with pleasure of exploding stars, 
then cuddle with soft song of ocean waves. 

This timeless memory, programmed in my brain 
by my ancestors thirty thousand years 
before hour of my birth in Oregon, 
powers progress of my daily routine 
with vision of attentive love for life 
that motivates my mission to create. 

Though Zeus in palace of Olympus struts 
with haughty pride of aggrandizing greed, 
and blusters to inflate his vanity 
with vainglorious conceit of arrogance, 
billions of people on this spinning globe 
eat with their friends at harvest festivals. 

Men who falsely amplify with big boasts 
importance of their being in game of life 
will fall from cliff of hubris when they leap 
on wings of delusion, and break on truth, 
so we continue our daily routines 
in safe homes with our precious families.  

Smiles Of Fractured Fantasy

Smiles Of Fractured Fantasy
© Surazeus
2026 09 24

Startled by smiles of fractured fantasy, 
that strangers in the crowded streets of time 
beam at my heart with stark intensity, 
I ride ghost horse of swift perplexity 
to find the mad king on the windy plain 
who eats grass from cracked television screens. 

Unnerved by smiles of fractured fantasy, 
that devils dancing in cathedral halls 
disguise as hunger to deceive my heart, 
I wear mask Phoebus lost on road of eggs 
to raise grand army of ten thousand sons 
who build empire from sea to shining sea. 

Distressed by smiles of fractured fantasy, 
that angels screaming on huge hill of skulls 
forge from star stones that smash temples of gods, 
I transform from angel to iron man 
and soar to mountains of exploding plums 
where Adam and Eve laugh in soaking rain. 

Annoyed by smiles of fractured fantasy, 
that pastors tearing dreams from holy books 
plaster on crumbling walls of paradise, 
I play messiah on the tragic stage 
to save Rapunzel from the beauty pageant 
so she can work as nurse in bombed-out towns. 

Surprised by smiles of fractured fantasy, 
that vampires banging pianos of glass 
employ to trick brave farmers in the dell, 
I balance oscillation of despair 
with frantic ecstasy of weird insight 
on quest to challenge Death to game of chess. 

Dismayed by smiles of fractured fantasy, 
that zombies whispering prayers to Father God 
wear to conceal lust for psychotic brains, 
I find safe shelter in haven of tales 
where fairies teach my children how to sing 
dark spells that conjure angels from my heart. 

Alarmed by smiles of fractured fantasy, 
that painters smearing ghosts on factory walls 
present as answers to ills of our world, 
I wander vast halls of computer banks 
with lantern of lost hope Jesus sold me 
to woo Shepherdess with sincerity. 

Amused by smiles of fractured fantasy, 
that nurses healing wounded hearts with truth 
paste on our faces with fake dollar bills, 
I sing about these dark times we endure 
because this universe of glowing light 
remains indifferent to our suffering. 

Proton Quickening Of Dream

Proton Quickening Of Dream
© Surazeus
2026 09 24

Through delirious disregard for discourse 
regarding boundaries of the Bleeding Heart, 
Hercules experiments with strange forms 
of tangled words in the grand feast of language 
to measure proton quickening of dream 
against ambient laughter of the grim tortoise. 

Through jocular regard for provocation 
that deconstructs religious faith of fools, 
Hercules comments with fatuous proverbs 
disguising social privilege of the strong 
through tragic drama fraught with mortal dread 
for patent absurdity of grand claims. 

Through corporate brand of mental harmony 
with mordent appetite for eating snow, 
Hercules keeps clandestine company 
with Caliban throughout the live-long day 
by betting on the fastest crippled horse 
with open sadism of innocence. 

Through stark exaggeration of contempt 
for mountain ghosts who howl at humble wind, 
Hercules considers treatise of falsehoods 
contrived by bankers eating plastic toast 
that stifles voices of the faceless people 
who wander margins of society. 

Through incandescent friendship of the blind 
who pursue objective of fallen gods, 
Hercules steals lies from philosophers 
to scam old people in the countryside 
who tell their stories with enormous pride 
as he sails yachts with money they provide. 

Through limitless supply of anecdotes 
that bleed from eyes of wartime refugees, 
Hercules heckles actors on the stage 
who declaim monologues that angels write 
against weird conservative governments 
who always fall asleep in the front row. 

Through politics of student occupation 
in movement for anti-austerity, 
Hercules documents fascist regimes 
that stifle satire voices of the press 
who buy ice cream for their Sahara trip 
where chemistry professors capture genies. 

Through song and dance on stage of tyranny 
before he exits global tragedy, 
Hercules trolls the university 
for teaching sociology of rights 
that brave people claim is inalienable 
except when swimming against ocean tides. 

One With Star Ungod

One With Star Ungod
© Surazeus
2026 09 24

My weird delusions drive me to compose 
sacred scripture for curious explorers 
investigating natural world of atoms 
to organize dynamic energies 
of social forces to generate food 
on quest to become one with Star Ungod. 

Though I am shipwrecked on the wine-black sea, 
cling to wreckage of religious beliefs 
while tossed about on waves of urgent faith, 
then stumble on shore of this brave new world, 
no cute blushing Nausicaa welcomes me, 
nor Circe to enchant my wounded heart. 

While stumbling lost in Massachusetts woods 
I find no Calypso in red silk gown 
who lures me to dwell in her paradise 
with salubrious peach from the Tree of Knowledge, 
nor has Hermes demanded my liberty 
so I return home to lost Avalon. 

Reborn in rain forest of Oregon, 
where Oberon teaches me magic spells, 
I race to stop Multnomah from her mission 
to sacrifice herself to save her tribe, 
but she dives into sorrow of the heart 
and drowns to save humanity from fear. 

My weird delusions drive me to transcend 
childhood programming of religious creed, 
so I see Jesus as brave mortal man 
whose children with wise Mary Magdalene 
rule Gothinian kingdoms two thousand years 
till my soul becomes one with Star Ungod. 

Though social war of opposing world views, 
that still plays between Asura and Deva, 
tangles nations in conflict over truth, 
ancient spirit of Zeus wakes in my heart 
so I am born from oscillating powers 
to become Surazeus Astarius. 

Ishtar on ziggurat of Star Ungod 
sends Abraham and Sarah to the west, 
and Brahma and Saraswati to the east, 
to spread religious rites of social growth 
that forms our United Nations of Earth 
on world faith of Astarianity. 

Together refugees from every land 
will build from ruins of America 
new global empire of Zarathia 
that highlights sameness in our differences 
so every nation thrives on fertile Earth 
on quest to become one with Star Ungod. 

Hope To Visit Shadowland

Hope To Visit Shadowland
© Surazeus
2026 09 23

If I should hope to visit Shadowland, 
where ghosts of all the nameless people sing 
hymns to the fallen god of thunderstorms, 
I may have to purchase tickets with love 
to watch myth of the Dream Kingdom dissolve 
to pages in old books devoured by Time. 

Alone with ancient Lyre of Mercury, 
I sit beneath the old fruit-laden Tree 
of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, heart 
pulsing with compassion for the world, 
and sing hymns that depict in secret verse 
life of every person who ever lives. 

Since Death is searching for light of my soul 
that glimmers faintly in vast gloom of fate, 
with plan to snuff flame of my humming mind, 
I sing strange visions flashing in my eyes, 
composed of memories my ancestors dream 
through sparkling nodes in network of my brain. 

My conscious soul of self-aware insight 
glows bright with passion of mortal desire 
as radiant emanation from my brain, 
fueled by conceptual chemicals of faith, 
with delusion of immortality 
conjured from my ancestral memories. 

This sense that I have lived since dawn of time 
is powered by dreams programmed in my brain 
from three billion ancestors who designed 
my body to this state of clumsy grace, 
evolving four hundred million years to me, 
but I shall vanish to nothing at death. 

Since I will sink deep in dark senseless sea, 
and atoms of my body dissipate 
from fragile frame of flesh that constitutes 
organic being of chemical respect, 
I breathe celestial spirit of our world 
and sing in orchard of my solitude. 

When functions of my body cease to flash 
with hot atomic ardency of faith, 
I want roots from the Tree of the Knowledge 
of Good and Evil to reintegrate 
deconstructed molecules of my soul 
so I become fruit yet-born souls will eat. 

Earth will recycle molecules that form 
my soul to basic elements of thought, 
so I become gusts of the curious wind, 
and I become drops of the fertile rain, 
so atoms forming me in my short life 
will form bodies of billions more to come. 

Evicted From Their Homes

Evicted From Their Homes
© Surazeus
2026 09 23

After he climbs down from Mount Helicon, 
still clutching broken lyre of honesty, 
Devus crawls through back window of his house 
and lies on soft grammar of loyalty 
to calculate the flow of capital 
that might dissolve chemical bonds of oaths. 

Eager to map out rival charts of value 
to inherited forms of thought control, 
Devus weaves lines of credit from despair, 
which renders unbearable flash of being 
light as wingless ghosts tangled in oak limbs 
whose cries shock him awake just at midnight. 

Almost shocked awake from delirium 
at time-tangled arrogance of regret, 
Devus leaps from frenzy of mocking jest 
in darker fields of imperial concern 
for imposing amazement of comedy 
on various cultures infesting the world. 

Trapped by Pax Americana through greed 
to build towers of glass on rainless moons, 
Devus looks back down at our lonely globe 
where faceless people hunger for new hope, 
dominated by capital compromise 
to live in gardens of rubbish from games. 

Clutching fragments of war atrocities, 
decontextualized by the evening news, 
Devus visits pastures of wounded souls 
where refugees, evicted from their homes, 
search for sacred books lost in empty tombs 
to paint churches white with national pride. 

Tricked by bland concealment of uniforms 
to accommodate unvoiced victimhood, 
Devus prepares bread and wine for the ghost 
who screams with smoke of rage that he is king, 
but no one notes his bond of care annulled 
by sentimental laughter of the dead. 

Through bodies dismembered by heartless laws 
as ten commandments of the Fire-Cloud Ghost, 
Devus channels souls of the suffering 
through television shows on the dream screen 
that people watch before they go to bed 
so they can conquer the world before dawn. 

Because he now has nothing to his name 
as claim to fame in anthem of our land, 
Devus scatters credit cards on town squares 
where millions of people stare at war tanks 
that crush idols of their gods to smithereens, 
then they laugh and become stuffed animals. 

His Star-Eyed Child

His Star-Eyed Child
© Surazeus
2026 09 23

The angel in the stone cottage perceives 
how the hill swells up to the swirling sky 
with changeless solitude of hungry trees 
that always seem to know what he desires 
before he can express it in soft wind 
that tangles his heart with branches of hope. 

Alert to song of sparrows among leaves 
that argue about who best understands 
miscalculations of fate through how clouds 
contradict design on grand temple walls, 
the angel ponders why things fall straight down, 
then whistles nonchalantly when death laughs. 

When nameless Goddess of Fertility 
appears with new-born baby in her arms, 
the angel with three eyes provides goat milk 
after he buries her among red tulips, 
then wonders what to name his star-eyed child 
who always climbs in trees to shout at clouds. 

Smoothing mud in wood frame with gentle hands, 
the angel without wings carves pictograms 
relating how the child came from the sky, 
and leads great army of wild homeless boys 
on quest to unite all nations of men 
in glorious empire of the singing sparrow. 

While boiling apples in cauldron of faith, 
the angel with stone heart remembers why 
fame rises from trickling stream in the ditch, 
then invites the bold bearded king to eat 
rye bread he bakes in oven of his heart, 
smeared with honey from rotten tree of truth. 

When the bold bearded king with jeweled crown 
kneels before him in early morning light, 
he peers close enough to see beaming face 
of his star-eyed child he forgot to name, 
so he laughs with delight and hugs him close 
while generals and soldiers stare in surprise. 

When the child inside the bold bearded king 
asks him if he had fallen from the sky, 
the angel takes him to the unmarked grave 
where his mother lies under tulip blooms, 
so the glorious emperor of the world 
kneels and weeps that he never saw her face. 

Pointing to young woman beside the king, 
the angel with three eyes smiles with calm joy, 
and tells bold bearded king that he can see 
face of his mother in face of his daughter 
whose eyes gleam bright as lightning in the storm, 
so she gives her grandfather egg of time. 

Hymn To Save The World

Hymn To Save The World
© Surazeus
2026 09 22

If I could sing the hymn to save the world 
with soft mercurial voice of wounded pride, 
I would rise from stone bed of my cold tomb 
and walk the crowded streets of everywhere 
to recite endless tales of tragic heroes 
when people tune in every afternoon. 

I will show you where the dragon lies curled 
in peaceful slumber, since blind tyrants hide 
treasures they steal from Tellurian womb, 
though Gandalf experiments in glass lair 
with computer pulses through ones and zeroes 
that compose solemn American tune. 

No one explains what emotions are called 
that shelter me safe when I feign to brood 
about sacrifice of the haughty lamb 
so I forge key of wisdom from star core 
which beams excessive proverbs of fake sorrows 
since library truth has become my bane. 

Engine of my Pegasus heart has stalled 
during flight to fortress of solitude 
were I learn to write spells from Abraham 
who assigns me to manage the bookstore 
while he digs for jewels in mist-veiled barrows 
because no one wants to stay in their lane. 

Minerva teaches me how to be bold 
because everything I create will fade 
and disappear at brutal curse of fame 
that she observes as omen of star 
that pierces hearts of children with faith arrows 
when Jesus descends in hot-air balloon. 

As Castle Skald it is my job to scold 
shocked artists who refuse to escalade 
assault of justice to expand the frame  
of social progress when I drive my car 
to escort grandchildren of divine pharaohs 
who operate world empire of the commune. 

Though I sign petition to save the wild 
from development of the psychic mode, 
I annul despair with the solar term 
Apollo gives me so I play the seer 
mapping dreams to navigate weird tomorrows 
which I program to run my brain machine. 

Long after the fake report has been filed 
about homeless angels on the world road, 
I partner with Zeus to found new law firm 
so we can profit from conceptual fear 
based on importance of rain-glazed wheelbarrows 
though Earth is united by Melusine. 

Heart Clock of Limerence

Heart Clock of Limerence
© Surazeus
2026 09 22

Energized by heart clock of limerence 
to prove with anguish of my wounded heart 
that I am loyal to Persephone, 
I count each snowflake swirling at my face 
from mirror mask of her innocent moon 
as if they symbolize our mortal souls. 

Excited by heart clock of limerence 
to find the Emerald Tablet of Untime, 
I follow moon-bright horse of tragic love 
across vast Manitoba to the lake 
where murdered lovers dance in Raven Wood 
with bonds unbroken by cruel jealousy. 

Vitalized by heart clock of limerence 
to channel radio signals through my brain, 
I chat with Manipogo about faith 
that animates our bodies with desire 
to live free from oppression of the state 
by writing screenplay for our chosen fate. 

Elated by heart clock of limerence 
to study lives of creatures in the woods, 
I dislodge holy word of arrogance 
from pulsing monster of my hungry heart 
that drives me to wade deep in lake of ghosts 
where faces of blind strangers stare at me. 

Enfranchised by heart clock of limerence 
to clamber over river-polished stones, 
I listen to relentless Water Song 
discuss strange silence of obsessive pines 
that dare me to hang blinking lights on them, 
so I stack stones in walls of paradise. 

Astounded by heart clock of limerence 
to misinterpret songs mad angels sing, 
I steal electric cows of brittleness 
to bargain with Persephone for wealth 
who commissions me to legislate love 
since I contrive new tales from ancient lies. 

Authorized by heart clock of limerence 
to rebuild Herculaneum in glass, 
I follow sweet Persephone through Hell 
where she reveals strange mysteries of truth 
about how atoms function to program 
weird dreams that flash across my scattered mind. 

Actualized by heart clock of limerence 
to wield Voice of Vajra with honest hand, 
I twirl bright thunderbolt with diamond eye 
to battle demon of cathedral truth 
who tries to crush my mind with clear insight, 
but I laugh from in my tomb of tangled words. 

Muffled By Sly Zephyrus

Muffled By Sly Zephyrus
© Surazeus
2026 09 22 

Bright rill of water fills up skull of God 
with tears of children killed in global wars, 
so Sibyl strings cracked lyre of Mercury 
with threads of memories from rotting brains 
that weave our myths in Terran tapestry 
which traps me in persona I design. 

Blind ghost in doorway of abandoned home 
decides to open window of the egg 
so Sibyl hears soft whisper of the snake 
explain how purpose causes us to bloom 
from seed of sorrow sparked by tear of hope 
so I feel essence of my body glow. 

What we ignore is what we value most, 
Sibyl decrees with holy voice of wind 
that blasts sharp jagged peaks of mountain minds 
so we transform from farmers in wet fields 
to analysts at computers in towers 
who calculate how soon great gods will die. 

Blind seers with old guitars on city streets 
provide support with hungry songs of hope 
to people who must work in factories 
to build the infrastructure of our world 
so every brave community depends 
on clowns for survival of truthfulness. 

Weird books that summer-sleepy Dryads write 
provide new paradigm for global faith 
that highlight zealous deeds of fabulists 
who strive to conquer Earth for their Cloud God 
whose priestess floats in deep Leucadian grave 
to sing our sorrows in calm hurricanes. 

No hidden harvest of luxurious time 
wakes stricken spirits of our frantic age 
from strange dream of aggressive tyranny 
that rises huge as Cetus from our hearts 
in this tumultuous year of social change 
when Sibyl writes our tales on scrolls of blood. 

Since she is now our global gardener, 
who cultivates strange flowers from our hearts, 
brave Sibyl nurtures warriors in shy souls 
who vow to Proserpine with honest tears 
to build new nation of Zarathia 
from shattered ruins of America. 

Since my immortal soul of genes has sprung 
as curious Orpheus from Niobean womb, 
I join wise Sibyl with sharp-shooter eyes 
to wage clandestine war of honest faith 
against harsh tyranny of gold-hand thief 
whose voice is muffled by sly Zephyrus. 

Mountain Of Divine Grace

Mountain Of Divine Grace
© Surazeus
2026 09 21

Reluctant to descend on signless road 
to misty underworld of faceless ghosts 
who whisper stories of their suffering, 
I linger at the twisted iron gate, 
and pluck at strings on broken lyre of truth 
while memorizing scenes of their disgrace. 

Purged by obsessive anguish of despair 
that writhes from wounded hearts of mortal souls, 
killed in ten thousand wars of thought control, 
I wander blithely down the signless road 
to cavern of illusions stuffed with souls 
who beg me to record their bitter lives. 

Heart numb from endless scream of suffering, 
I stare mute at their twisted souls of rage 
and try to understand their wordless howls, 
but they just blast past me as ocean wind 
that pierces to my bones with blades of ice, 
so I shiver with horror at bleak death. 

Bones stretched too rubber-taut in agony 
at unjust death of body-searing pain 
that billions of mortal humans endure, 
I swell into enormous cloud of rage 
that flashes with memories of harsh death 
till I condense to iron core of Earth. 

Up steep obstructing slope of bitterness, 
I struggle to assert each rage-weighed step 
of heavy horror oppressing my heart 
against blast of grim angelic contempt 
to climb massive mountain of divine grace 
in futile search for cleansing clemency. 

Alone without witty word-smith as guide, 
who could steer my faltering steps of fear 
safe through rage-tangled limbs of screaming trees, 
I stumble blindly toward the Promised Land 
that gleams too faintly in Tower of Hope 
for me to see its Flame of Liberty. 

Exhausted from my ten-million-year quest 
to seek salvation on the mountain top, 
I randomly arrive at peak of truth 
where I watch empires of men rise and fall 
countless centuries of wars to play God, 
laughing as I float up in empty sky. 

Bouncing against planets in timeless void, 
I flail wildly in erratic progress 
as I careen up nine celestial spheres 
to tumble awkwardly in Paradise 
where no Beatrice scolds me for my vice, 
so I sit by Tree of Knowledge and eat.