Gold Hypnotic Eyes

Gold Hypnotic Eyes
© Surazeus
2026 08 12

The way piano notes cause crows to laugh 
reveals old painting of the dreamy sky 
dripping tears in crippled hands of the girl 
who waits for someone to return from war, 
intense with shadow of half-open door 
that proves she secretly hopes for revenge. 

Brick buildings on the hazy boulevard 
conceal small broken hearts of honest men 
who write their stories with blood on the wall 
through formulas of disentangled codes 
which calculate despair of open roads 
no matter obstacles of irony. 

She finds abandoned shopping cart of hope 
in field of grass behind the lonely school 
where sad grasshoppers modulate the day 
with angst of heart-enchanting melodies 
that should provide blueprint for psychic keys 
which she could use to open brave church doors. 

When stoic toad with gold hypnotic eyes 
chants Psalm of the Shepherd in evening glow, 
three school girls skip on the yellow brick road 
with plan to wake dead gods of arrogance 
from tangled roots of trees on river shore 
where dolphin brings shy Arion from the deep. 

I call to wise Inanna on high hill 
with wounded heart of stark sincerity 
in fraught request for honest rulership 
since gangs of angry thieves corrupt our state 
against the sacred law of falling leaves 
which tangle naive hearts with chosen fate. 

Far out in waste land of calm nonchalance 
dark shadow of some nameless wanderer 
slants sideways through expansive grid of hope 
that portends revolutionary change 
through sudden readjustment of our values 
that we must seal with sacrificial blood. 

Devotions of his ice-heart streaked by dawn 
should sanctify attention still denied 
by star-eyed pilgrims in the thrumming dark, 
but he decides to fortify his mind 
against bright menace of the silent tree 
that stands guard in abandoned castle court. 

Entranced by gold hypnotic eyes of truth, 
that spiral with one trillion galaxies, 
bold Arion stands on stage in castle court 
and strums oak harp of David with deft hands, 
then sings grand epic of his killing spree 
that makes him writhe in guilty agony. 

Wand Of The Weeping Clown

Wand Of The Weeping Clown
© Surazeus
2026 08 12

Regret cannot stop how snowflakes descend 
on delicate wings of unspoken words, 
though death consumes old silence of our souls, 
so we transform our pain to dreams of truth 
confirming how we analyze each choice 
which redesigns tone of our social voice. 

No more shall we expend false energy 
to measure psychic mirror of the sea 
which frames how we perceive our social needs 
to share tales of our private suffering 
with tender words of mental reckoning 
contrived to manage how we choose our death. 

Thus I shall join grand convoy of the lost 
in journey on lone highway of the ghost 
who wanders somewhere we have never been 
to show the way beyond fake paradise 
as if we hunger for dramatic truths 
to reprogram our minds with innocence. 

If I pause outside window of my room, 
while arranging snake eggs in Book of Doom, 
I may glance through lace curtains of my heart 
to see the Fairy Queen in silk nightgown 
who offers me wand of the Weeping Clown 
so I decide to play cartographer. 

Another king is set to come and go 
in naked anguish of electric snow, 
so I sign with name of my inner child 
new executive orders which assert 
children must learn how to build house of bones 
so we can draw map of the changing world. 

When Jesus finds me lounging in the cave 
where shadows of things flicker on the wall, 
he appoints me to perform solemn role 
heading new-formed Department of the Soul, 
so I search for lost people of the world 
and give them identification cards. 

Now that each soul is legal to exist 
as hungry spirit in land of the free, 
we can return to the business at hand 
of building wagons with crystalized wheels 
so we can fly on wings of Icarus 
above ever-changing maze of dead gods. 

No longer disenfranchised by concern, 
expressed by mechanics and librarians, 
we follow Humble Prophet of the Cow 
who bears reforged wand of the Weeping Clown 
to open new residential account 
at the water business office of faith. 

Queen Of Her Own Life

Queen Of Her Own Life
© Surazeus
2026 08 12

My heart swells with stark sensation of respect 
when Earth spirals through bright cloud of stardust 
beneath constellation of the Brave Boy 
who rescues from Cruel Serpent of the sea 
Graceful Girl sacrificed by Greedy King, 
and crowns womankind queen of her own life. 

When fierce winds lash waves against rocky coast, 
Perseus steers motor lifeboat with calm skill 
through swells of tempestuous anxiety 
to find sailboat capsized in churning fear, 
and rescues seven people from abyss 
who huddle for warmth as he turns toward land. 

Wrapped in warm towel and clean cotton robe, 
Andrea sips hot tea by glowing hearth 
in sturdy stone cottage by roaring sea, 
safe from time-wracking gale that pummels hard 
her vulnerable sense of security 
as she breathes deep to calm her frantic heart. 

Sitting with guitar in the leather armchair, 
Perseus plays heart-enchanting melody 
Asturias, composed by Isaac Albeniz, 
that transports spirits of the rescued crew 
to sun-enraptured hills of sweet duende 
where children play games in groves of orange trees. 

At dawn when gold sun gleams through placid waves, 
Perseus and Andrea together stroll 
broad shore of gleaming sand between high cliffs 
of jagged rocks and boundless sea of light, 
smiling shyly as they share childhood tales 
and laugh with delight at clever insights. 

Approaching them with angry stride of hope, 
Daniel, the banker who would marry her 
with encouragement from her father, shouts 
for her to show some common decency, 
then grabs her arm with possessive disgust, 
so Perseus pushes attacker away. 

Declaring she will never marry him 
because he attempts to control her life, 
Andrea takes hand of Perseus in her hand, 
and strides back to stone cottage on the hill 
where they eat breakfast with her family, 
then exchange phone numbers inside the door. 

Meeting for their first date at the bookstore, 
Andrea and Perseus discuss history 
of architecture, weapons, clothes, and food 
to compare the bronze age culture of Greece 
with features of the Viking age in Norway, 
and hold hands as they stroll by wine-dark sea. 

Dumb Earth Of Faith

Dumb Earth Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 08 11

I set my new grave in dumb earth of faith 
to translate shrieks from heaven of the heart 
so shambling wanderers on signless roads 
may know with certainty where they can go 
in verdant valley of our singing skulls 
when wise Cassandra prophecies our fate. 

Though ecstasy of wisdom burns my mind 
with soul-transforming flame of secret love, 
I dance in flawed light of reluctant grief 
at mounting beat of my breath-fueled heart 
to find mysterious truth in silver eyes 
that see beyond mask of my mutant face. 

Since trees extend dark shadows of their truth 
across soft patch of grass I call my home, 
I listen for faint sounds of youth to spark 
assertive flow of water through my soul 
so we can measure subtle change of time 
in light that waits on skin of my mute mind. 

I feel pulse of this hill with gate of stones 
where strangers bring sea waves in trembling hands 
to ask how deserts smother paradise 
though beauty must endure the wounded mouth 
that seals our dreadful book of honest lies 
as if we share no tales of suffering. 

This nothing we remember when we wake 
at shock of broken wagons by the road 
frames flower meadows with grotesque beliefs 
till eerie voice of bells uncooled by fate 
attempts to separate our plangent hearts 
though we clasp hands with eager fortitude. 

If I possess no secret code of truth 
despite intended loss no fool denies, 
I may remember hour we meet with death, 
enlightened by black thunder clouds of time, 
yet we share juice of fruit from Tree of Life, 
then journey on with lamp of solitude. 

Still insolent with ardent creed of love, 
I dare endure dire threats from hungry men 
who never share fruits of our generous globe 
that shudders in its slow relentless spin 
though we perform absurd play of false pride 
when cocks crow with alarm of global war. 

As Lucifer elected by the crowd 
I bear lamp of integrity with courage 
that lights our rugged road of tragedy 
when we escape cracked walls of paradise 
to build home village in bleak wilderness 
where we set our graves in dumb earth of faith. 

Haven Of Protective Pale

Haven Of Protective Pale
© Surazeus
2026 08 11

Enclosed in haven of protective pale, 
that surrounds her home with forcefield of love, 
Juturna ponders all possible fates 
that might result from each action she takes, 
then chooses one grand deed she can perform 
to send dead souls back to their greedy graves. 

Though bodies of our souls mingle with dirt 
that glows with ancient light of long-dead stars, 
they call her name with faint voice of the breeze 
that translates words of her secretive thoughts 
to butterflies that flit among fruit trees 
with timeless messages from silent hills. 

When she expresses hopeful thought of life 
with soft uncanny voice of her mute heart, 
Juturna feels strange sorrow take new shape 
that walks beside her on the garden path 
where she still wanders listlessly, attuned 
to ache of wisdom in each flower bloom. 

When old Neptunus, with his cracked horse skull, 
appears from shadow of relentless hope, 
Juturna twirls on graceful steps of fear 
with plan to evade hard grasp of his hand, 
but he pins her against the garden wall, 
demanding that she bear child of his soul. 

If gleaming moon of sharp anxiety 
stays hidden behind veil of innocence, 
Juturna vows with trembling voice of rage 
to cast dire spell of poisonous despair 
that strikes his heart with limp sterility, 
then pokes his leg with stick of verity. 

Averse to harsh potency of her curse, 
Neptunus hesitates at sense of doom 
that misdirects attention of his hope 
sideways enough for well-witch to strike hard 
and wrestle old sea-god facedown in dirt 
where she binds his hands with vine of the law. 

Arriving with three goats he bought from Faunus, 
Saturnus grins amused when he observes 
how his clever daughter subdues cruel thief 
who slouches bound to trunk of the tall oak, 
so he shoves old horse-tamer out the gate, 
then roasts steaks for his grandchildren to eat. 

Alert in haven of protective pale, 
Juturna guards three children of her heart 
who play hide and seek with bearded grandfather, 
climbing on his back as Saturnus spins 
and howls with demon voice of ocean waves, 
then they sleep as she keeps watch in moonlight. 

Weird Riddles Of The Truth

Weird Riddles Of The Truth
© Surazeus
2026 08 11

Astonished by strange beauty of the world 
that teems with conscious creatures of desire, 
I follow winding stream of flowing water 
from ocean beach with swirling waves of change 
to mountain cave where demons haunt my heart 
to decipher weird riddles of the truth. 

Entranced by strangeness of glittering clouds 
that transform into various forms of thought, 
I watch young woman on lush river shore 
who fills straw baskets with flowers and fruit 
and sings about strange mystery of the world 
to decipher weird riddles of the truth. 

Pleased such a wonderful person exists 
in this world of men who fight for control, 
I recount my journey to paradise 
through valleys of monsters in greedy gangs 
while I grasp my wand of honor through love 
to decipher weird riddles of the truth. 

Encouraged by her generosity 
for giving fruit to hungry travelers, 
I strip off old clothes of my social state, 
bathe in Lethe River to cleanse my soul, 
and kneel before Flora with humble heart 
to decipher weird riddles of the truth. 

Wounded by my journey to paradise 
in descent through dark valley of despair, 
I feel my arrogant soul purged of pride 
through experience climbing mountain of hope 
when I share proverbs of lessons I learn 
to decipher weird riddles of the truth. 

Amused by how I have grown boy to man 
through intense progress of maturity, 
I ask Flora for guidance of her love, 
so she leads me on narrow path of faith 
through forest of shadows to field of light 
to decipher weird riddles of the truth. 

Inspired by vision of her prudent words 
depicting haven of protective pale, 
I stack stones in surrounding walls of faith, 
then tend flame of hope in tower of trust 
while she tends rich herbs and fruit trees of love 
to decipher weird riddles of the truth. 

Attentive to needs of her humble heart 
which generates life from seed of my love, 
I dwell with Flora in our paradise, 
teaching our children knowledge about life 
so they may live well after we both die 
to decipher weird riddles of the truth. 

New God Of Fire

New God Of Fire
© Surazeus
2026 08 10

If light illuminates all wounded hearts 
with equal spectrum of chromatic chords, 
we might through graphic vividness of faith 
perceive prismatic ambience of love 
that hope refracts in rainbow wings since time 
vibrates in pulsing knots of molecules. 

Distinctive pact of writhing photographs 
denies contract between abysmal parts 
through frantic oscillation of shared hopes 
that hungry souls fail to express in words 
forged by sharp water smoothing stones of fate 
so we wake trapped in mask we never made. 

Sebastian stands with rigid arrogance 
against heart-breaking facts of curious fear 
to prove despair could never bend his will 
against stark principles his father built 
to form foundation of his honest state 
contrived by thieves from blueprints of regret. 

Yet he decides to aim with hawk-eyed hope 
long rifle loaded with small sphere of fate 
straight at steel mask of eyeless tyranny 
in strict defiance that could crack his mind 
through fragile courage of the desperate fool 
to save his clan from chains of slavery. 

With sneer of haughty pride for conjurers, 
bold Beleth mocks young boy with long thin rod 
set to his shoulder with clumsy concern, 
then pounds his chest and roars to scare the fool, 
but brave Sebastian grins and pulls the trigger 
that blasts flame of fire with sizzle of smoke. 

Large crowd of devils in black leather capes, 
and wielding tridents forged in caves of Hell, 
laugh with uproarious contempt at faint flash, 
but Purson shrieks in shock when he observes 
whole head of Beleth explode in blood blast 
that splatters bloody brains across the ground. 

Stunned in silence to see their mighty king, 
whose monstrous rage subdued them all with fear, 
long terrified at his harsh punishments, 
stand huge and headless, motionless too long, 
then fall straight back to whump on mindless dust, 
and quiver as blood gushes from his skull. 

Sebastian holds long rifle with both hands 
while standing tall on stone of Great God Voice, 
and grins when devils who were wont to howl 
fall to their knees in terror of his power, 
then pledge allegiance to new God of Fire 
as they gaze with awe at glory of his face. 

Stars Unfold Their Dreams

Stars Unfold Their Dreams
© Surazeus
2026 08 10

When stars unfold their dreams into my heart 
through cosmic cycles of resurgent faith, 
I sing electric phrase of wrinkled time 
to mark incessant turning of each day 
through gentle ebbs of slow-subsiding tides 
that float ship of my heart to paradise. 

Though waves unfold their words into my mind 
through rumbling swells of time-unslanted hills, 
I catch spring sunlight in frail leaves of faith 
to taste concocted brew of sugared thoughts 
which nourish transformation of my soul 
from seaweed-tangled stones of fortitude. 

Since wind unfolds its voice into my mouth 
through wordless gusts of flashing rainbow eyes, 
I linger downwind from the curious ghost 
embodied by the big-eyed deer of trust 
who gazes straight through shadow of my fear 
based on new revelation of my heart. 

Where dust unfolds its spark into my eyes 
through exiled willfulness of careless love, 
I sail on waves of wonder that spring wild 
from frothing fountain of my aching heart 
against harsh tyranny of selfish greed 
to fertilize vast fields of glowing grain. 

Till Death unfolds my body from its form 
through haughty abstinence of noble pride, 
I follow paths of glory to the grave 
while I express orations for the state, 
providing calm assurance of weird lust 
for mutual recreation of the mind. 

When Time unfolds its promise of my doom 
through flowing shadows of the empty room, 
I slot new fuse in circuit of my mind 
to conjure virtual model of the Earth 
as map by which I navigate strange moods 
in transient project to build paradise. 

Though Fate unfolds my choices on bright stage 
through blinding glamor of the telescope, 
I wear broad wings of fame I forge from fear 
to glide with Icarus beyond high walls 
so we can survey endless maze of myths 
where idols of dead gods block large church doors. 

Since Fame unfolds my private state of mind 
through binding arrogance of humble faith, 
I strum the Lyre of Mercury and sing 
tale of the normal person who observes 
nature of the world with critical eyes 
so I record weird riddles of the truth. 

White Butterfly Of Death

White Butterfly Of Death
© Surazeus
2026 08 10

Shocked by the sudden certainty of death 
that swoops at my heart on butterfly wings, 
I curl into eccentric thought of shells 
enclosing vibrant heart of vanity 
to shelter in small haven of regret 
against relentless tides of daily change. 

Joanna strides across cracked desert plain 
toward glowing shimmer of attentive care 
while gasping deep for divine breath of hope, 
but laughs with bitter joy of wretched faith 
at how time unspools passionate concern 
for stable system of social exchange. 

Gazing mute out high window of her heart, 
while trapped in tower of her bird-winged mind, 
Joanna watches men on horses fight 
for who controls women and trees of fruit, 
then prays to marble statue with long hair 
that shows Rapunzel with her first-born son. 

Driving to work at the federal bank 
where she manages special business loans, 
Joanna sees on horse of glowing clouds 
Richard the Lion-Heart with sword of truth 
ride swift into battle to save the world 
as wipers clear raindrops from the windshield. 

Lounging in garden of herbs and fruit trees 
at Zisa Castle where she reigns as queen, 
Joanna plays sweet melodies of hope 
on harp of polished oak, and sings with voice 
of her great-grandfather, William Troubadour, 
whose ghost haunts river woods of Aquitaine. 

While Queen of Sicily for thirteen years, 
Joanna tends garden of her aching heart, 
secure in heaven of electric crows 
that soar on wings of longing to the stars, 
till Tancred pushes her against the wall 
and tries to kiss her, so she stabs his leg. 

Attending meeting at the federal bank, 
Joanna reviews application for loan 
submitted by Thomas to build new mall, 
but when he gropes her thigh with leering grin 
she calls police who ask her why she wears 
tight black skirt with provocative intent. 

Safe at Fontevraud Abbey in Anjou, 
where she flees turmoil of rebellious rage 
that sweeps across lush County of Toulouse, 
Joanna lies pregnant with desperate fear, 
gazing at the white butterfly of death 
that lands on her hand red with blood of faith. 

Rain Blooms Into Flowers

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. 

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. 

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. 

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.