Puzzle Of Disparate Truths

Puzzle Of Disparate Truths
© Surazeus
2026 04 12

Exquisite beauty of soft floating snow 
resurrects death in lush leaves on tall trees, 
assembling puzzle of disparate truths 
in mirror mask Nature wears to revive 
aching spirit of my heart with mute love 
so I long to walk with you in bright woods. 

Snow flakes supply sweet angel tears of light 
that nourish roots of fruit trees so they mold 
sunlight to cherries, apples, pears, and grapes 
which nurture human souls of transient flesh 
with clear immortal water from Blue Sky 
who blesses fields where wheat sprouts from our hearts. 

Annoyed that eggs she finds in underbrush 
crack in large basket she wove from tree twigs, 
Celta notes eggs gleam safe on tufts of grass 
so she tears handfuls from bounty of fate 
and pads its bottom with layer of softness 
that protects eggs she collects from getting cracked. 

Returning to kurgan mound by the lake, 
first built by grandfather of her grandfather, 
Celta slips behind thick veil of grape vines 
to enter chambered cairn where she dwells safe, 
hangs herbs above workbench of oak to dry, 
then boils eggs in copper pot in hot hearth. 

Hungry for fish roasted with herbs and oil, 
Celta carries pack with net and long pole 
to silver lake between pine-shrouded hills 
where she casts net to fill basket with fish, 
then digs mussels from slurping river muck 
as sparrows chirp in alders on the ridge. 

Stepping over stones to climb narrow trail, 
Celta pauses when she sees in large cave 
wild wolf man with long matted hair and beard 
who holds cracked turtle shell with two deer horns 
and sings strange anthem as he plucks gut strings 
in lamentation at heart-breaking loss. 

Reaching out his hand with gesture of trust, 
Wilkus offers her ride in river boat, 
so Celta sits on prow bench as he rows 
across bright lake lashed by sudden wind storm 
that causes her to fall against his chest 
and hold him tight as he strives for safe shore. 

Warm and dry together in chambered cairn, 
Wilkus and Celta consume roasted fish, 
drink spiced grape wine with relish of desire, 
share tragic tale of Tristan and Isolde, 
then kiss and make love on thick wolf-fur rug 
as butterfly flutters around their heads. 

Now Unspoken Mirroring

Now Unspoken Mirroring
© Surazeus
2026 04 12

Audacities of faithless innocence 
confuse transactions of honest exchange 
with enraptured lust from austerity 
that realigns resemblance we discharge 
through act of avoidance subtle as shouts 
caressing contours of absence we share. 

Elliptical words misexpress desire 
in tune with fierce emotional restraint 
that stalls deliverance of shocked release 
at passionate blast of erotic thoughts 
through warm compassion of the fallen heart 
seduced by hot metaphors of syntax. 

If I negotiate with casual fear 
to uncover judgement of wordless taste, 
against progression of the absolute, 
I might become subject to honesty, 
brutal with now unspoken mirroring 
that feels intimate at pause of the touch. 

Each turn of sudden sentences we share 
through struggle to convey new moral strands 
excludes our tendency to ramble far 
at penetration of the curious mind 
which intimates our fraught mortality 
at soft obstruction of respite from death. 

Siphoned by sorrow of bland nothingness, 
my shriveled heart sneers at bitter reproach 
contained by consoling voices of wind 
more provocative than sacred regret 
for essential disarray of fake psalms 
that smear sentiments of blood on dead grass. 

If essence of my self emerges clear 
from poisoned nimbus of untasted lips, 
I contemplate aggressive force of life 
that drives divergence of my fractured brain 
from viable range of accepted masks, 
forged by fantasy of family romance. 

Trapped in contemporary culture games, 
as model for psychic material 
contrived to mediate ranges of being, 
I extract facile conclusions from books 
torn by complex language of vanity 
with congenital need for solitude. 

Organized violence of mental spells 
through subtle encroachment of earnest play 
injects sharp charm in our zero-sum game 
involving innocent laughter at soft shock 
of nuclear flash tangential to life 
that focuses attention on desire. 

Strangeness Of Reality

Strangeness Of Reality
© Surazeus
2026 04 12

Entranced by strangeness of reality, 
I kneel in cathedral of burning light 
and contemplate significance of death 
since Nature is indifferent to me, 
till I feel swell from abyss of my heart 
immense divinity of nothingness. 

Annoyed by strangeness of reality, 
I measure magnitude of silent dark 
till I find patterns of normality 
in swirling chaos of atomic change 
that flashes glimmer of the knowing eye 
perceiving lucence of the gaseous soul. 

Inspired by strangeness of reality, 
I thread quick waves of particles in web 
designed to mimic puzzle of unknowns 
contained by figure of the conscious soul 
whose mind arranges colors into shapes 
then labels them with sentimental names. 

Insured by strangeness of reality, 
I purchase credible theology 
encoded in proverbs of social memes 
that arrange themselves as meaning in minds 
concerned with certainties of changeless truths 
unraveling our world view into myth. 

Surprised by strangeness of reality, 
I observe new sonic parameters 
contained by constant flashing entropy 
that might suggest strict rites of honesty 
along path of least resistance to find 
well of salvation in the frosted field. 

Disturbed by strangeness of reality, 
I conjure whimsical image of truth 
to practice metaphysics of respect 
for diaphanous mask my spirit wears 
when I play demiurge of spectral verse 
to mold virtual model of Earth from dreams. 

Observed by strangeness of reality, 
I confront weird mystery of otherness 
that pulses from black hole of everywhere 
in order to describe shadow of fate 
that proves unsolvable with formulas 
designed by seekers to map the Unmind. 

Compelled by strangeness of reality, 
I wander obscure wood of sylvan faith 
to understand nature of everything 
while lost in saccharine mist of desire, 
then meet you at the Pegasus Cafe 
to drink coffee and share spells we compose. 

Hungry Crow Of Truth

Hungry Crow Of Truth
© Surazeus
2026 04 12

Erased by laughter of the waterfall, 
I wander to work at the grocery store 
where I stock shelves with cans of vegetables, 
then climb in dead oak tree by the highway 
and pretend I am the hungry crow of truth 
who solves math riddles of the eglantine. 

From my perch in the city park I see 
eight hippies sit in circle on the grass, 
wearing headbands with flowers in their hair, 
who sing hymn Where Have All the Flowers Gone 
with mercurial voices of revolution 
while bearded Jesus strums guitar of truth. 

While riding El Camino on glass highway 
across Mojave Desert in July, 
I hear that god Apollo and his friends 
have landed on bright mirror of the moon 
to visit God and his exotic cat 
who shows them how to run the universe. 

Extreme perfection gained by stealing rain 
inspires my heart to photograph the face 
that God wears as he plays the human race 
based on experience of the pioneers 
who earn their privilege through suffering 
that they endure while stealing pristine land. 

Old bearded preacher wearing long black cloak 
declares that God is energy of light 
that animates each atom through the void 
so everything we do by force of fate 
expresses will of God in how we act, 
but I insist I live through my own will. 

Potential portrait, that depicts my face 
as noble prototype of providence, 
hangs on museum wall of reverence 
that proves all my accomplishments of faith 
place me on pinnacle of social games 
as prominent goon of society. 

Revenue retrieved from fake bank accounts 
solidifies my power over truth 
when I employ strategic feints of faith 
sufficient to enhance my social clout 
enough that I play grand symbolic role 
as clown crucified by bureaucracy. 

Subjective standards of state moral laws 
require conditions supportive of faith 
taxed by grim priests with sharpened scythes of hope 
who sell synthetic prayers of rectitude 
contrived by honest therapist of hope 
who forges keys of wisdom from despair. 

Fruit Of Secret Truth

Fruit Of Secret Truth
© Surazeus
2026 04 11

Bewildered by ghosts hiding in blank books, 
who beam voices of gods through window glass, 
I step outside numberless door of home 
and face busy world of ambitious pride 
that hides human suffering in sad songs 
sung by their tragic angels till they die. 

I find no more than shadows of our world 
writhing as serpentine ghosts in blank books 
to perform roles of long-dead characters 
who succeed or fail in finding soul mate 
to generate new life before they die 
who with Leander swim the lusty sea. 

Startled when divine apple tree of truth, 
which casts eerie shadow across our land, 
transforms into little girl with star eyes, 
I walk to town library after work 
to read about wind devils of the soul 
who become gods chronicled in old myths. 

Stripped of their language, homes, songs, and fruit trees, 
my ancestors sail across storm-wracked sea 
to invade and colonize paradise, 
transforming wilderness of mountain woods 
to gleaming towers of computer banks 
where Mercury plays the Wizard of Oz. 

Awake in dreams that flash across my mind, 
all my ancestors reperform their lives 
in endless loop of strange experiences 
which program how I interact with fate, 
tricked to believe my special consciousness 
will live forever in meme code of poems. 

Each drop of water sloshing on our globe 
has been ingested by organic beings 
four hundred million years of blooming growth, 
so this one drop of water in my heart 
has animated billions of bright brains 
with light that shimmers now in my own brain. 

I feel their souls vibrate inside my cells 
as seething ocean of spiritual ghosts 
who teach me secret of eternal life 
is how immortal soul of genes in me 
threads all my ancestors in my brain now 
that spools from First Mother of humankind. 

I ask Persephone to marry me 
so she gives me pomegranate to eat, 
then we hold hands and lounge beneath the stars 
where soul of everyone who ever lives 
twinkles blissfully at how we kiss 
and give each other fruit of secret truth. 

Wise God We Elect

Wise God We Elect
© Surazeus
2026 04 11

Startled by something unseen in the night, 
I exchange my face for the mask of light, 
then dance with carefree joy in the grove 
where wingless fairies of apple trees rove, 
but stop and ponder why men fight for power 
and who will marry princess in the tower. 

I value beauty of our empty world 
that spins in galaxy of stars unfurled 
with quaint anticipation that strange tune 
vibrates with passion of the writhing rune 
lithe as wise serpent in tall tree of fruit 
that flutters rainbow wings as I play lute. 

To stop blood-thirsty tyrant shooting bombs 
that shatter safe homes into boneless tombs 
Scheherazade recounts one thousand tales 
while strolling secretly on mountain trails, 
and then one more about the holocaust 
humans commit when paradise is lost. 

When massive vibration of human souls 
beams rainbow shimmer of intense love goals 
with effortless grace of perpetual prayer 
by chanting spells that unveil ghoul of fear, 
we reach out hands of generous respect 
to mold zeitgeist in wise god we elect. 

Electric phoenix ghost with crystal wings, 
that soars above our river vale of rings, 
expresses shrill uncanny song of hope 
that teaches me constructive ways to cope 
with our volatile time of social change 
where moral values shift weird angles strange. 

Astonished by world-spin of chemicals 
in matrix wound from waves of particles, 
I catalog all creatures who exist 
with sibylline code in dynamic list, 
encrypted by psychotic formulas 
through cosmic map of the Americas. 

Yet proxy actor who plays Lucifer 
insists that I perform as Jupiter 
in secret mission to guard paradise 
by coding social myths with viral price 
which redefines how brave heroic deeds 
vector calyx pattern of mental seeds. 

Though singers come and go in flow of time 
eternal song of true love humans mime 
will bloom again each season of the heart 
in harmony with notes on the dream chart 
composed with blood of angels on the scroll 
which I archive as duty of my role.  

Blind Mother Sea

Blind Mother Sea
© Surazeus
2026 04 11

When I crawl from womb of blind mother sea, 
with brain programmed to sing atomic tunes, 
I explore tricky landscape of our globe 
over three hundred eighty million years 
till I stand on highest mountain of faith 
and proclaim myself god in breathing flesh. 

Then timeless fortune mocks my haughty pride 
and trashes fantasy my brain designs 
with cruel indifference of mind-twisting fate 
that readjusts attention of my heart 
to balance passion with obsessive rites 
which I perform to evade strike of death. 

Through self-control of scientific verse 
I confirm my soul at flash of dire curse 
that tricks perception of my curious eyes 
with grand illusion based on human deeds 
when I restrain assertions of free will 
with laws designed to focus lust on truth. 

Trapped by conceptual creed of bitter faith, 
that bodies made of pulsing molecules 
will resurrect from death at word of light, 
I escape despair at surprise of truth 
that we will disappear to swirls of dust 
when our lithe lust-driven bodies decay. 

I return to shore of blind mother sea 
to hear again in hollow of my heart 
relentless melody of surging tides 
where I first learned to walk upright on legs 
of curious passion to map the whole world, 
but weep I am so far now from her song. 

We humans have now mapped our spinning globe, 
exploring every inch of her landscapes, 
fertile plains, lush woods, rugged hills, bleak deserts, 
and colonizing vales where rivers flow 
with forty eight thousand cities and towns 
connected in vast web of signless roads. 

Though I have dwelled on surface of the Earth 
three hundred eighty million years of hope, 
I dream the twenty million years before 
I spent deep in womb of the swirling sea, 
forever swimming toward pure Eye of Light 
whose voice still calls to fly beyond the sky. 

I stand on wall that Nehemiah built 
from bones of dragons carved in cubes of glass, 
and survey lands across our spinning globe 
where people gather around fires to sing 
while kings in towers play chess games of war 
over who controls the blind mother sea. 

Calyx Of Conceptual Code

Calyx Of Conceptual Code
© Surazeus
2026 04 11

More ardent than how crows explode from rocks 
are tangled thoughts of tainted misery 
that drive me to walk endless neighborhood 
of manufactured homes designed to hide 
wolf spirit that lurks in each human heart 
with passion to survive fake fantasy. 

Though beauty of this energetic world 
pulses too bright for my sponge brain to see, 
my eyes assert brave effort to perceive 
electric essence flushed with quirky light 
when I stroll asphalt streets past flowered yards 
to listen for gossip of crows in elms. 

Binding fierce rage with calm spell of the Way 
that swirls deep as ocean waves in my cells, 
I float entranced by sudden vernal smells 
proclaiming ancient song that Nature writes 
with scars on soft bodies of human ghosts 
who conceal divine souls with masks of pride. 

Though I never return to land of myth 
that pulses all around me with sunlight, 
I ask Eurydice if she will sing 
psalm of darkness that still keeps her alive 
thousands of years after she caught the snake 
and took it writhing in deep cave of dreams. 

Because Eurydice sings the same psalm 
that lead her to escape prison jewel mine, 
we today can follow glamor of hope 
that she exudes on stage of ecstasy 
to understand blood moon of soul rebirth 
as we replay her tale in church of faith. 

Though singers of old tales change every age, 
translating ancient dramas for new ways, 
strange music of humanity vibrates 
forever with each spin of Earth in space 
when immortal spirit wears our new face 
so Orpheus appears each eighty years. 

When we are young and restless with desire 
we wander endless roads of fantasy 
to design weird role of our destiny 
by carving our place in dream of our time, 
startled into wisdom by charming chime 
that Fortune rings to wake us from our dream. 

Now that I play role of my special state 
by wandering somewhere to evade my fate, 
I analyze fashion of my true self 
that blooms in calyx of conceptual code 
to understand strange nature of my being 
that causes my love-wounded heart to sing. 

Wounded Heart Of Pity

Wounded Heart Of Pity
© Surazeus
2026 04 10

Emergent spirit, composed of sea bells, 
bequeaths new embassy through hieroglyphs 
detailing circuit calm of quadrant coil 
on which I sail beyond contrived complaints 
to cherish supple calyx Earth explores 
through monody my shadow souls express. 

Fantastic rain of unearned legacy 
pummels fields of private loneliness 
with ancient disciplines of mutiny 
by which my wounded heart of pity knows 
urgent silence outlawry still absconds 
despite fierce oaths contrary friends express. 

Far outside chilly walls of crowded church 
I sing with larks of unharmonious truth, 
tongue bound by bell-rope knelling fractured homes 
since I still wander doomed cathedral lawn 
through ripe assertions of sad epitaphs 
carved on strange walls in spells wild ghosts express. 

Though I have heard from scattered tones of stars 
antiphonal psalms no angel dares sing, 
I push against tribunal words of light 
at broken intervals launched into clouds 
from which I tumble prostrate on stark hills, 
hived in tales my old father should express. 

Up terraced meanings, desperate children mold 
from visionary voice of instant truth, 
we score eccentric cognates trapped by hope, 
though flawed encroachments tangle mute despair 
flung from towers of revival we seek, 
recording messages devils express. 

Taut matrix of our story-woven hearts 
enshrines false heroes who once filled our eyes 
with grand illusions of commodious fate, 
unsealed by forest spirit who knows how 
showers cleanse our putrid souls of despair 
evoked by anthems our sorrows express. 

Fraught carillons in tombs of withered gods, 
veering against light of synoptic creeds, 
lures our attentive souls long motionless 
to navigate our labyrinthine lies 
through pulsing monoliths of ardency 
now vibrant with sweet visions fools express. 

Index of riddles, that inspire our quest 
to hear sibylline voices of calm lakes, 
beneath which demons writhe oblique to fate, 
reveals palladium heart that nurtures me 
with tearful humor of healing regret 
so I may translate proverbs gods express. 

Specter Of Wisdom

Specter Of Wisdom
© Surazeus
2026 04 10

When their eyes are unblinded by pure light 
that radiates from glamor of my spells, 
and they preach salvation through inner sight 
granted by perspective of cosmic truth 
applied through analysis of my verse, 
Specter of Wisdom will curse me with fame. 

If I unveil psychotic course of change 
that transforms world view with sharp keys 
so minds perceive atomic state of truth, 
designed by Ungod to spark songs of joy, 
Specter of Fame will rise from cosmic wells 
and bind my spirit with perplexing curse. 

While I sing esoteric spells of faith 
in clever riddles of weird parables 
that mirror complicated scenes of change, 
designed to misdirect avenging ghosts, 
so you evade poisonous curse of fear, 
Specter of Truth will guard our way past Hell. 

Though poised Evangelist afraid of Death 
distorts clear vision my spells indicate 
that we are conscious flames of verbal light 
who flare forth from first flash of fertile hope, 
Specter of Love will shield our transient souls 
till we evaporate at chime of faith. 

Till zombies worshipping their vampire god 
transfer affection of obsessive faith 
to complex portrait of ontology 
presenting deeper truths about this world 
which my insightful spells project as dreams, 
Specter of Prudence will guard me from Fame. 

Safe in veiled haven of secure respect 
from seductive disease of famished Pride, 
I chant empowering vision of the Force 
we channel through attentive mind of faith 
Specter of Justice programs in our hearts 
so I may die in peaceful solitude. 

So if I maintain balance of regard 
for natural effect of constructive cause 
with formulas that transform selfish greed 
to generous calm of communal work 
that binds our global state of just rewards, 
Specter of Pride will never curse my soul. 

When minds of loyal followers are cracked 
by shocking truths that sprout from seeds of faith, 
programmed by cosmic vision of this world 
that guides their quest to find the Promised Land, 
Specter of Wisdom will release my soul 
from stifling curse of sterilizing Fame. 

Machines Of Potent Words

Machines Of Potent Words
© Surazeus
2026 04 09

Grim gargoyle shape of my expanding brain 
dodges succulent perfection of thirst 
through imperceptible questions he screams 
to imitate machines of potent words 
so we feel safe beside the lake of dreams 
where fish explain consecutive regrets. 

Since truth and beauty that our hearts desire 
are both illusions which our brains design, 
truth the real world we try to understand 
and beauty the dream world we would create, 
we walk together in stark field of flowers, 
inventing words to match what we perceive. 

Tenebrous beauty of the world we see 
sucks light of rainbows in vortex of gray 
so we mix flour and milk in bowl of hope 
to bake fresh bread that keeps our secret fears 
concealed in swelling loaf of urgent faith 
while nursing darkness of the spinless world. 

Rate of convection, when heat radiates, 
defends velocity of transient soul 
defined by wind chill factor of sweet words 
disguising curse of estimated flow 
when moving air disrupts my atmosphere 
though I breathe pure celestial dreams of love. 

We bundle fractured hearts with eglantine 
to stride with brave anxiety toward light 
illuminating maskless souls we mold 
from ringing bells that lure our seamless dance 
against continuous time through false doors 
to high-walled courtyard of lost paradise. 

Adjusting patient line of wounded souls 
through secret code of frantic telephones, 
we neither confirm nor deny concern 
for endless meditation angels play 
based on exoneration we must purchase 
to free our bodies from theology. 

Weird book in which I hide discarded tales 
floats faintly slow above my throbbing head 
to beam bewildered sentences of fate 
that stretch our bodies beyond bounds of hate 
so we glance casually at screaming ghost 
who offers faces of state suffering. 

Dazzled by hills of honest fortitude, 
I colonize my heart with twisted lust 
when I extract material wealth of words 
from hills that share lost treasures forged by light 
so we may dwell in tense peace of despair 
without care for indifference of Nature. 

Voices Of Broken Hearts

Voices Of Broken Hearts
© Surazeus
2026 04 09

If I should suppose that snow would destroy 
this world civilization that we built 
from twisted bones of dinosaurs and gods, 
then I should look out window of the house, 
where my cousin General Lee once stood, 
and contemplate new state of Liberty. 

My book of prophecies that no one reads 
may adumbrate no future ever seen, 
yet moon of sorrow deciphers my joke 
to mean that we are stuck in maze of myths 
with only glass of water to preview 
wild ocean that flows as blood in our veins. 

Though I cannot measure with tangled verse 
how far we have come down the signless road, 
I should empathize with telephone lines 
that listen to voices of broken hearts 
so much they weep icicle tears of hope 
that crash on the windshields of hungry cars. 

If I should try to understand your heart 
before it flies away on sparrow wings, 
my house may reshape cubicle of hope 
so time accommodates electric words 
that beam weird rainbow eyes of psychic truth 
to understand how water flows from thought. 

When my cousin John Brown raises his gun 
to free enslaved people from greed for gain, 
I shall join his crusade to set them free 
so we may beat brave drums of Liberty 
where oil rigs weep for death of Clementine 
whose eyes beam rays of moonlight in my heart. 

Though brittle colors of our state archives 
process our dreams as technicolor ghosts, 
we open gates for travelers of time 
who give white breezes of soul-pardoning 
to ancient Saturn with long beard of fate 
sprawled among exploding flowers of faith. 

Our misty island never changes shape 
though frantic ocean waves of bitterness 
attempt to reframe state ontology 
in ways that criminalize worshipped gods 
who travel to strange country of glass doors 
till we adjust how we view moral rules. 

Because I wish to be her follower, 
commissioned to guard her body from harm, 
I calculate new ways we measure truth 
to navigate geography of love, 
and dwell save in museum of respect 
where we translate voices of broken hearts. 

Puzzle Of Spectral Souls

Puzzle Of Spectral Souls
© Surazeus
2026 04 08

From shattered memories of all my past lives, 
which my ancestors lived millions of years, 
I assemble puzzle of spectral souls 
in mask and cape I wear to play my role 
as mad prophet on storm-wracked heath of fate 
to overthrow world emperor of greed. 

Surprised by joy after rebirth from pain 
of suffering through long dark night of the soul, 
I reconstruct puzzle of spectral souls 
by weaving scenes from ancient epic tales 
that compose new tale of heroic deeds 
when wise seer helps young boy kill tyrant king. 

Through careful analysis of close reading 
to comprehend tropes of my random life 
I deconstruct puzzle of spectral souls 
which unveils social machinery of myth 
that jesters use to manipulate minds 
when they crown themselves kings of angry tribes. 

Attentive to needs of my princess bride, 
who reincarnates my soul in our love child, 
I generate puzzle of spectral souls 
designed by immortal soul of our genes 
as we evolves four hundred million years 
from four-legged fish striving to play god. 

Based on honest principle of free will, 
that motivates my quest to become god, 
I conjugate atomic world-view globe 
which models planet spinning in the void 
that flares forth from first flash of the big bang 
through spiral of deified energy. 

To explore landscape of dramatic scenes, 
which my brave ancestors experienced, 
I navigate conceptual maze of myths 
where every great human in history 
stands frozen as idol of their grand deeds 
in signs that guide my way to Wonderland. 

Curious how neural net of our brains 
emanates temporary conscious soul, 
I analyze puzzle of spectral souls 
by how their actions cause effects of change 
that we record in chronicles of fate 
which we frame with each decision we make. 

Tangled in matrix of atomic souls 
that cast caliber of my character, 
I calculate puzzle of spectral souls 
through formulas of psychic paradigms 
to join world choir of angels singing poems 
about why life is brief but beautiful. 

First Mountain Mother

First Mountain Mother
© Surazeus
2026 04 08

Strange music echoes in vale of my heart, 
uncanny melody of timeless passion 
that swells from pulsing bodies of our souls, 
so I walk out in crowded streets of Roma 
where Gallae priests in long colorful robes 
dance wildly to celebrate Megalesia. 

Eyes flashing bright with timeless stars of truth, 
Magna Mater Cybele, Mountain Mother, 
rides throne inside four-wheeled bronze chariot 
with humble shepherd Attis at her side, 
so I approach and offer fruit of love 
which she accepts with bright seraphic smile. 

When Cybele presides on judgment throne 
with grand rite in Temple of Victory, 
my heart swells brave with joyful pride of faith 
that ancient spirit of her soul remains 
glowing strong in heart of America 
that urges us to build Heaven on Earth. 

Brave Aura, daughter of wise Artemis, 
filled with holy spirit of Dionysus, 
bore our first Mountain Mother Cybele 
by Star Lake on misty Mount Dindymus, 
who reigned as oracle at Pessinus 
in temple Midas built with hands of gold. 

When her descendant Ilus, son of Tros, 
built citadel of Troia with high walls, 
her Phrygian Spirit of noble courage 
flowed with Aeneas to the Seven Hills 
where Romulus built great city of Roma 
that shines from heart of Mother Cybele. 

From Star Lake on misty Mount Dindymus 
immortal spirit of Cybele springs 
to nourish her descendants with grand vision 
for ruling Heaven through organized rites 
so we confirm our soul with self-control 
when building empire of First Mountain Mother. 

From Pessinus to Troia, then to Roma, 
through Londinium and Vasintonia, 
grand spirit of Cybele sprouts again 
as Goddess of Justice and Liberty 
who guides our democratic way of life 
where all are equal in America. 

As we dance to celebrate Megalesia, 
and drink bitter-sweet wine of Dionysus, 
we honor soul of Mother Cybele 
who teaches us to transform pain to joy 
by generating life before we die 
since we accept that death will take us all. 

Vampire Witch Of Hell

Vampire Witch Of Hell
© Surazeus
2026 04 07

Persephone in white-lace wedding gown 
kneels among glowing cinders on the plain, 
bearing apple-shaped ruby in her hand 
that glows with pure ethereal flame of love, 
and chants soft spells from ancient Book of Truth 
so glowing gem becomes her beating heart. 

Orion on white horse of arrogance, 
that gallops on thundering hoofs of rage, 
aims sharp spear at heart of Persephone, 
intent on killing vampire witch of Hell 
who smirks and twirls on rainbow angel wings 
to shoot shower of needles at his eyes. 

Blinded by rays of divine cognizance, 
Orion screams as he tumbles on rocks, 
then crawls in agony of wounded pride 
till he sucks energy from tortured souls 
to swell enormous as dragon of hate 
and hurls jagged boulders at dainty girl. 

With casual gestures of nebulous faith, 
Persephone bats boulders with her hands, 
like milk cows swat flies with tails as they graze, 
then somersaults on flashing wings of fate 
while casting shining net of ice-moon rays 
that traps Orion in tangled emotions. 

Trembling in horror at vision of death 
that amplifies acerbic voice of fear, 
which fractures his coherent sense of self, 
Orion writhes in muscle-tensing strain 
through rigid agitation of despair 
that twists his body into feral beast. 

Gently touching head of the rope-bound hunter, 
Persephone whispers proverb of faith, 
"My fertile body of creative power 
is not your helpless puppet to control, 
so with strict spell of assertive respect 
I arrest your aggressive force of greed." 

Chanting spirit-rejuvenating spell, 
Persephone reprograms his world view 
to purge his toxic masculinity 
that cleanses his mind of animal lust 
which transforms wild beast into calm man 
who kneels before her with obedient heart. 

Persephone in white-lace wedding gown, 
followed by Orion with Spear of Truth 
as loyal guard who protects her from harm, 
ascends ziggurat to Temple of Justice 
where she presides as Goddess Liberty 
who maintains world empire with rule of law. 

Fly And Live Free

Fly And Live Free
© Surazeus
2026 04 07

Stepping up onto the stone balustrade 
in the high tower of ambitious hope, 
Icarus spreads wings in hard gusting wind 
that he constructed from feathers and bones, 
and pictures in his mind sweet Chrysanthis, 
daughter of Hecate and Helios. 

Closing his eyes to grand view of the world 
around high tower of ambitious hope, 
Icarus remembers the timeless hour 
he was strolling in garden of fruit trees 
when he first beheld graceful Chrysanthis 
dancing with tree nymphs at the festival. 

Breathing deep celestial wind of desire, 
Icarus grips wings with determined hope 
to fly beyond maze where Helios rules, 
who refused to allow wise Chrysanthis 
to marry lazy son of the craftsman, 
then leaps with faith into abyss of fear. 

Gripping broad wings he built from dragon bones, 
Icarus soars swift over maze of streets 
where thousands of people point to the sky 
and cry with awe to see the angel fly, 
then gasp when arrows Helios fires miss, 
as he aims for island across the sea. 

Reviewing plan he made with Chrysanthis, 
when they met in Dream Cave of Hecate 
to meet on island of the singing skull 
that recites prophecies of Orpheus 
so they can live free from cruel tyranny 
that Helios imposes on the land. 

Adjusting wings to balance frantic flight, 
Icarus growls from anguish of surprise 
when arrow of Helios strikes his leg, 
but his left wing cracks and heat melts the wax, 
causing him to spiral out of control 
till he crashes into the placid sea. 

Swimming toward electric light of regret, 
Icarus remembers last night they met, 
and how silver eyes of Chrysanthis glowed 
when they kissed and vowed to meet again soon, 
so vision of her face gives him new strength 
till he crawls from the sea and shouts with joy. 

"Let them believe I drowned in the sea 
in vain attempt to fly and live free," 
Icarus laughs as he stretches his soul 
when Chrysanthis leaps with joy in his arms, 
so they kiss with passion as the sun rises, 
then walk together to new garden home. 

Chamber Of Lost Secrets

Chamber Of Lost Secrets
© Surazeus
2026 04 06

Stuck in chamber of lost secrets all day, 
I map confusing maze of ancient myths 
that chronicle history of human games 
we play in theater of the absurd 
over who reigns as God till we all die, 
then our children replay contest for power. 

Lost in chamber of lost secrets with you, 
I study masks of long-unworshipped gods 
to understand weird spirit of each age 
reflected in soul of some mortal man 
they chose to play deity of their tribe 
in holy mission to conquer the world. 

Blind in chamber of lost secrets from light 
that beams through unveiled face of cosmic mind, 
I name each god in old religious myth 
who founded dynasty of mortal kings 
to play messiah anointed by fate 
by killing all men who oppose their rule. 

Born in chamber of lost secrets with love 
that weaves neural net of my brain from dreams, 
I draft how my organic frame evolves 
fish to lizard to mouse to cat to monkey 
to ape to wingless angel striving to be god 
when I enforce my rule through Liberty. 

Woke in chamber of lost secrets with faith 
that men we elect to play god will reign 
with compassion for every living soul, 
I stand in rain by gates of paradise 
to play weird tunes on lyre of Mercury 
and sing with wild uncanny wail of love. 

Fired in chamber of lost secrets with lust 
to generate new life before I die, 
I fly in time-machine airplane of hope 
halfway around Earth on wings of desire 
to marry Goddess of the Holy Grail 
who reincarnates our souls in our children. 

Dazed in chamber of lost secrets from hope, 
I listen to Moon Girl play melodies 
of heart-enchanting grace on silver flute 
that lifts my soul from muck of agony 
so I fly high with wings of Icarus 
above vast maze of human history. 

Mute in chamber of lost secrets, I sing 
first flash of love that flares forth into worlds 
that teem with conscious beings of energy 
who bloom wise from quantum cosmology 
for our brief flash of life till we burn out 
and vanish into shadows of our words. 

Vibrate Voice Of God

Vibrate Voice Of God
© Surazeus
2026 04 06

Nebulous song of the black telephone 
asks me to commit unrelenting love 
through pretentious messages from dead gods 
which I must announce to humanity 
though my soul detaches from my stone brain 
and floats on brittle hum of ardency. 

Thrashed by wonder of unfamiliar death, 
who floats above me every sleepless night, 
I consider how famine mistransforms 
shadows of frantic minds to animals 
who wander without caution in moonlight 
to stare through windows at angelic humans. 

Because my mother weeps when she conceives 
my mortal body from draconic daze, 
she plays violin for gentle peacocks 
whose eyes design my heart calligraphy 
so I know how to vibrate voice of God 
through tangled verse of fabled honesty. 

With broom of listless ennui at world war 
I tend the broken bridge of loneliness, 
though I ignore the zither of my heart 
to exorcise angelic energy 
from millions of hearts possessed by despair 
who ask me to write battle hymn of faith. 

I will eat oranges of confusing taste 
rather then erase them from my sad joke 
that maps waterless rivers of regret 
where wingless angels stuck in empty churches 
fold wounded hearts in origami cranes 
while they deny their desire to escape. 

When I find his Green Car wrecked on the road 
halfway between New York and San Francisco, 
he introduces me to his best friend, 
the bear who has built every bridge on Earth, 
then teaches me how to defend myself 
when Fortune curses me with global fame. 

Thirsty for truth beyond theology, 
I steal lemons from Tree of Good and Evil, 
but refuse to sugar bitter despair 
while riding donkey of world revolution 
to drive mad King Herod from our White House 
and free Liberty from guilt-loop of Hell. 

As abject failure at the cursing game, 
I hurl book of riddles into the swamp, 
then renovate ten thousand rotten houses 
so every homeless person in the world 
may dwell in haven of attentive fear 
and join world choir to vibrate voice of God. 

Reluctant Prayer Of Hope

Reluctant Prayer Of Hope
© Surazeus
2026 04 05

Each time she pauses by the broken door 
to listen for reluctant prayer of hope, 
another crow emerges from the book 
with clocks for eyes that unspool alphabets 
while tired construction workers drink hot beer, 
because she waits for her ship to come in. 

Fake photographs from family of ghosts, 
stuffed inside leather suitcase of wolf skin, 
escape from aching laughter of her heart 
to live as butterflies in shadowed rooms 
where children play board games of psychic war 
while ships of slaves sink in electric storms. 

Back when old kings ruled every crowded land 
from castles of aggressive greed for gold, 
her grandparents folded her in the box 
and sent her overseas on ship of state 
so she lives now in small Missouri town 
where she tries to ignore the weeping clown. 

Arranging books on brave library shelves 
in moral order of their truthfulness, 
she ponders how the television works 
transmitting images in crackling air 
like crystal ball of the grim sorcerer 
who builds model ships in bottles of faith. 

These faint fragments of cultural debris, 
that float about her on butterfly wings, 
she slots in expanding puzzle of truth 
as picture that shows nations of the world 
clashing in fierce religious wars for oil 
which fuels our piston-engine time machines. 

Ascending narrow stairs of innocence, 
she stands on peaked roof of brave Jupiter 
to survey sprawling maze of city streets 
where billions of people struggle to live 
in constant hunger for paradise lost 
as robots building cars and radios. 

Sharp cry for justice in the teeming crowd 
sparks revolution of the working class 
who program computers in cubicles 
that weave world wide web of god consciousness 
combining social media anecdotes 
in never-ending novel of success. 

Relaxed on front porch of her cottage home, 
free from bondage of marriage and religion, 
she writes novel about the abused girl 
who reclaims her life with struggle for truth 
to live as true self nascent in her heart 
while jets bomb homes in countries far away. 

Silent On Subjective Tricks

Silent On Subjective Tricks
© Surazeus
2026 04 05

They almost trick me into spilling why 
death comes to us as the white butterfly, 
but I keep silent on subjective tricks 
which I employ to map the River Styx 
where magic spells sprout from linguistic muck 
with energy I gather to fool Luck. 

Since no one dares to teach me how to fly, 
I gain employment as government spy 
assigned to analyze the crucifix 
despite abundant code angels unfix 
to guard the activist driving her truck 
who rescues the church pastor who got stuck. 

Atomic brains amend contract of thought 
with ambient destiny where cooks get caught 
through humble success of great discipline 
too dangerous for the loyalist to win 
though I drive streets of Seattle to find 
celestial key that opens Divine Mind. 

Ride with me in my fast airplane I bought 
to find the hidden oracle who taught 
my father how to architect Berlin 
when he grew up in Temple of Shaolin, 
dancing with principle that to be kind 
forges theology with creeds that bind. 

Startled awake on Bridge of Loneliness, 
I hang out to converse with Sisyphus 
about true nature of the Cosmic Christ 
who invades money temple in brave heist 
through mental coup against cruel tyranny, 
then crowns his son with feudal barony. 

When my sponge brain begins to phosphoresce 
with frantic visions of global distress, 
I visit the Pope as wise poltergeist, 
commissioned to design novel zeitgeist 
that secures equal rights through Liberty 
which lifts every soul out of poverty. 

Entranced when Minerva begins to croon 
screams of despair into uplifting tune, 
I wear mask of Lucifer as my face 
to prove our souls disappear without trace 
when our bodies decay at strike of death 
though we practice yoga with calming breath. 

Exclusive deal won through electric boon 
freaks me out when our empire falls too soon 
to account for god vibes in our headspace 
though Apollo is detecting the case 
to find out who released demonic wraith 
whose tender care teaches us selfless faith.