Unclock Chance Of Fate © Surazeus 2026 10 02 Aside from how fast stars always explode into light fairies with gossamer wings who bring bottles of root beer to blind clowns, Gearthe considers why white horses laugh at the wild-haired king chasing the giraffe, because she wants to paint portraits of ghosts. As if respectful turbulence of planes reveals how deep the psychic manhole goes for devils to hide from raven disease, Gearthe scatters pumpkin seeds on sidewalks while asking glass-shelled tortoise of dark faith how long it takes for alphabets to grow. Since no more than seven ages of man show our regressive pattern of regret by disobedience to laws of Glow Clouds, Gearthe advertises her expertise for extracting souls from god-twisting books to rescue children from the war machine. Though no one knows when the last god will die from embarrassment of drowning in tears that humans shed from constant suffering, Gearthe walks one hundred thousand miles to find the new-born angel with nine eyes who is destined to work as a janitor. If Death considers what the stop sign means that stands forever at crossroads of fate till Jesus cheats Krishna at game of cards, Gearthe will give away to bitter monks all the most famous paintings about queens who were forced to marry privileged thieves. Backward up Stairway to Heaven at dawn with random plan to unclock chance of fate at crack of gears in broken time machines, Gearthe gazes through swirling fog of time to navigate valley of singing skulls because the future is one step beyond. Yet when three prophets of the global bank distract attention of the humble folk through lamentation at the death of God, Gearthe holds flowers by the faceless pool, then asks shy Narcissus to marry her while echoing his religious beliefs. Till seeds expand into towers of steel that frame glass spirits of unusual faith based on undulations of interest rates, Gearthe decides not to proceed with plan to purchase glass castle from Jupiter till he admits his conceptual mistake.
Friday, October 2, 2026
Unclock Chance Of Fate
Surf The Waves Of Change
Surf The Waves Of Change © Surazeus 2026 10 02 When tyrants take control of government, appointing thieves to higher offices, and funnel dollars of our hard-earned tax from programs that support the common folk to coffers of their private bank accounts, all we can do is surf the waves of change. When humble lawmen from the government ride into small towns on the wild frontier to challenge barons who own all the land, and integrate them in the empire state that trains sons of farmers as banking clerks, all we can do is surf the waves of change. When Midas, Nebuchadnezzar, and Lear imprison angels from Elysium to extract minerals from the mines of Hell, and build tanks and airplanes with bombs of hate to fight over who controls the most land, all we can do is surf the waves of change. When oligarchs of high-tech companies design artificial intelligence to perform functions of analysis that disemploys millions of programmers who fight video wargames in cyberspace, all we can do is surf the waves of change. When farmers attending church on Sundays no longer receive fiscal subsidies, while brave migrant workers from southern lands are deported to towns run by drug lords so no one is left to harvest their crops, all we can do is surf the waves of change. When prophets disguised as cartographers rename the ancient lands of everywhere to realign conceptual state of mind that conjures virtual model of the Earth so we navigate tides of history, all we can do is surf the waves of change. When democratic republic of hope, which we built strong on noble principle that every person born across this land has inalienable right to liberty, collapses under greed of oligarchs, all we can do is surf the waves of change. When Gothinius, descended from two gods, Jesus and Odin, through Holy Grail bloodline of Faramundus, and Frank Queen Argotta, unites the warring nations of Europe in unified state of Gothinia, all we can do is surf the waves of change.
Thursday, October 1, 2026
Lost On Ghostless Moors
Lost On Ghostless Moors © Surazeus 2026 10 01 By stretching my mind across centuries to wind my heart with frantic memories my soul becomes the boundless sky of doors through which I wander lost on ghostless moors to gather blossoms from the playful breeze so I forge trauma into psychic keys. Because I am calm enemy of hate, tricked to play happy by swindle of fate, I am uninterested in fraught game of who suffers most to achieve false fame, so I transcend stark agony of pain by floating wingless in electric rain. If I cast hex of calibrated spells through inefficient laughter of church bells, I may revive my equestrian heart long enough to check fortune-twisting chart against status of episcopal faith, fabricated through lust of the Star Wraith. Since I may inherit Book of Weird Lies, composed by children of dynamic spies, I may attempt to grow angelic wings through spiral sparkle of demonic rings that proves my soul is native to this land as frightened rebel of divine command. Concealed by silence of old broken truth, designed by ravens acting out of ruth, I analyze consequence of my deed, then adjudicate fault through mental need to exercise free will within constraints applied by nature to create more saints. Through ballads, strictly coded to express moral values that conjure happiness, I document events of this wild age, performed by sly mortals on global stage, depicting tragic passions of blind gods whose arrogance transforms them into toads. Across the waste land of eccentric rules children wander nowhere past fractured schools to learn of freedom for the wounded soul who studies secrets of the flashing whole so they can sell anger in holy books because temple priests are restaurant cooks. With tale-tattered quill, from my crippled wing, I chronicle our age of suffering by giving voice to the marginalized who storm Heaven though they are unbaptized, then compile ten billion stories with runes that dissipate into soul-haunting tunes.
God My Brain Invents
God My Brain Invents © Surazeus 2026 10 01 When dawn sun gleams red over apple creek, piercing my heart with agony of love, I fool myself one hour of glowing thoughts that I am one with some vast cosmic mind, and not alone and small on giant globe that slowly spins in void of nothingness. How comforting to think that cosmic mind, beaming from hills and clouds with warming love, observes my being with soul-nurturing care, empathizing with strange feelings I feel, and would protect my frail body from harm while teaching me to see nature of things. This hope for huge protective soul of love that gleams as ghost in sun-refracting clouds, I wonder if my mind derives its sense from memories my ancestors reviewed because they all experienced sweet care their living parents performed in each life. My mind projects care of this cosmic mind based on experience of each new life from memories of their childhood that transfer brain to brain on dream-weaving strings of genes which feed complex glow of my conscious mind so I expect care from ghost of this world. No parental spirit, bodied in flesh, hovers over me with cherubic wings to shield my frail embodied soul from harm, so my mind projects as ghost of their care incorporeal being in God my brain invents that shimmers as illusion of my faith. If I were not projecting ghost of care as ideal god that presents in thought absent parent my programmed brain expects, I would begin to tremble with stark fear that sharp-toothed monsters of death lurking near may attack and destroy my tender soul. Thus with fake confidence of specious faith I strut landscape of terror to account for secret treasures I extract from death as fruit which I consume to sustain life that flushes with tense strength of ardent pride transient self which I navigate with care. Now stuck with ghost of God my brain invents, programmed by psychic memories of hope that my ancestors conjured from stark fear to navigate through gangs of hostile men, which helped them survive to generate life, I protect and guide my children with care.
Pool Of Her Luminous Heart
Pool Of Her Luminous Heart © Surazeus 2026 10 01 While angels and devils fight in the sky as lightning flashes in swirling black clouds, I wander along crumbling asphalt road far out in the desolate countryside to the abandoned mansion of gray wood where faceless ghosts float in one thousand rooms. Before rotten stump of the ancient tree, that once sheltered children with joyful eyes who played games on long summer afternoons, I kneel and touch small sprout of tender leaves that struggles to grow from its legacy and bloom with apple rubies of true faith. When I touch roots with anguish of regret, that radiates from despair of wounded hearts since people I love were slaughtered in war, passionate beam of psychic energy spirals through expanding scope of consciousness which manifests in tree of global faith. Celestial goddess robed in tattered pain vibrates with spark of cosmic synergy that spirals from pool of her luminous heart so she creates our spinning world of souls to pulse in ocean of atomic waves, then sings while drenched in golden seeds of faith. Emerging from weird visions at gray dawn, I ponder meaning of that vague word, Faith, which weak men, trapped by duty to succeed, wield as weapon of spiritual control, so I gaze at old crumbling house of hope that creaks in wind of innocent desire. How fiercely I longed to escape this house and live with passion in city of lights, but vampires cloaked in dapper suits of wealth, instead of humble knights with crafting tools, became obsessed with beauty of my face and sucked bright spirit of my naive heart. Instead of Penelope waiting at home for Odysseus to return to warm hearth, I am Medusa searching for true love, for I have left behind gods turned to stone as tragic lessons no one cares to learn, yet hope to find Perseus waiting for me. Wrapping her long tangled hair in firm bun, Mary unlocks door of her family home, cleans every room with broom and mop of faith, then sits in leather armchair by the hearth to sip hot chocolate and watch snowflakes flash in timeless light of the gold Full Moon.
Wednesday, September 30, 2026
Fruit Tree Of Untime
Fruit Tree Of Untime © Surazeus 2026 09 30 I live beside the river of blind souls who dance around the fruit tree of untime, awake with arguments of lonely flowers while flapping crippled wings of honesty that flare against infinity of hope till we become new houses for our dead. I bury seeds of sorrow in wet Earth to nourish with tears fruit tree of untime that curls thirsty roots into my thick heart with passionate intensity of faith that startles me awake from wordless dream beneath the mirror sky of burning eyes. Forever down long winding road of thoughts I walk away to fruit tree of untime through endless loops of returning progress since I arrive back where I once began to find the beginning is now my end except I want to start the way again. With crowd of angels on high ziggurat, gathered around sprawling tree of untime, I hold high brass wand with emerald eye refracting beams of sunlight in rainbow that lights bright faces of ten billion souls who sing hymn to the glory of our globe. When God wakes in atoms of dreaming eyes that blossom ripe from fruit tree of untime, I feel glow in my body every soul who will ever live on every world globe in all the universe of swirling galaxies, so I transmit songs of their aching hearts. Like every tree that exists in Spacetime manifests perfect fruit tree of untime, so Jesus, Allah, Buddha, Vishnu, Zeus, and Odin manifest, as mortal men, perfect Tribe Leader who cares for the people who trust him to organize their lives well. Vibrating with eternal buzz of light that spirals out from fruit tree of untime, I declare with radial galactic voice that I am atoms which always exist for all things emanate from my God Mind through transient bodies of organic souls. As temporary being with conscious self, nourished with love by fruit tree of untime, I savor strangeness of this universe and treasure beauty of your radiant soul, so we embrace and generate new life who will live and sing long after we die.
Beauty Of Her Cosmic Soul
Beauty Of Her Cosmic Soul © Surazeus 2026 09 30 Gold Key of Wisdom I forge from my heart opens doors of happiness to safe homes where ghosts of apples as organic beings share visions of their minds in songs of faith that shine as lamps to guide us on the road which we traverse to build new paradise. When I observe strange objects of this world that shimmer with light in vale of my heart, my mother Reitia writes words that she speaks as runes she carves on smooth tablets of wood, then teaches me how to cast magic spells as hex that projects vision of my mind. When I see pretty girl with long gold hair and blue eyes gleaming bright as valley lake, I grab her with my hands to kiss her mouth, but mother Reitia twists my arm and frowns, then teaches me to treat girls with respect, admiring beauty of her cosmic soul. Appointed to accompany Her Way, I guard sweet Artemis with magic wand as she attends duties of her routine, protecting her soul from monsters and men as she gathers fruit, berries, nuts, and eggs from eerie shadows of the mountain woods. Though I save her fertile body from harm, stopping men from enslaving her as wife, she saves me from blind selfishness of lust because I come to know her secret heart, as I attend her progress every day, when I focus true love on her, not me. When her mother contracts marriage of state for brave Artemis as obedient wife to manage household of the wealthy banker, I relinquish duty as her soul guard, then drift with broken heart in obscure woods to linger by her favorite turtle pool. As I convince myself to let her go and respect freedom of her private will to marry the wealthy man she may choose, Artemis appears in our secret grove, where I stare at reflection of my face, and calls my name with voice of genuine love. Attending mirror of her glowing eyes, I burst with joy at tenor of her words that she loves me because I love her soul, nursing her freedom to live as she will instead of striving to control her body, so we hold hands and stroll back into town.
Arthurian Code Of Conduct
Arthurian Code Of Conduct © Surazeus 2026 09 30 When hexagonal ice crystals refract spirit of the sun through sphere of my brain, I see crowd of red and black balls swirl wild in flashing spirals of electric coils that scatter into flocks of silver crows who gather in oak trees to sing my name. Because astonishing light of my being emanates from mortal frame of my flesh, I dream delusion of immortal life glowing from conscious system of my brain which tricks my mind to feel as if my soul exists long before it beams from my body. Contained within limiting bounds of being, my soul vibrates from waves of chemicals that interact to conjure glow of life through finite channels of time-woven space, designed by my ancestors so my genes construct this temporary self I am. Spurred to perform act of the noble soul by story of the tyrant who exploits bodies of people to increase his power, I journey road to the high mountain pass where statue of the goddess glows alive and commissions me to defeat the king. Inspired by her vision of global peace, I fight against every tyrant on Earth with passion of brave Cronus in my heart to cast cruel Uranus from throne of greed and free the hungry people of the world to operate farms with communal faith. Just like Saint Lucia asks Empress Maria, who asks Princess Beatrice for assistance, who sends Vergilius to guide Dante to Heaven, so Athena asks Apollo, who asks Mercurius, who sends Orpheus with lyre to guide my journey to the Promised Land. Thus wise Athena teaches me to see essential spirit in each human being so I may attend to their secret needs, and nurture innate talents into skills that allows them to create way of life fulfilling dreams of their ambitious hope. Wielding Sword of Justice in hand of faith, applied to my care by the Fairy Queen, I follow Arthurian Code of Conduct opposing tyrants, enslavers, and thieves, protecting farmers, herdsmen, and craftsmen, and protecting women who create life.
Tuesday, September 29, 2026
Far Side Of Reality
Far Side Of Reality © Surazeus 2026 09 29 Quick leap to far side of reality through oscillation of brave opposites connects the lonely island of my heart to lush continent of humanity as bridge of compassionate ardency which helps me find missing treasure of truth. Slow fall to far side of reality from transient twirling of excessive tries may channel frantic energy of faith in pulsing tunnels of my sponge-wet brain to motivate attention of my love laser-focused on dark needs of your heart. Grim trudge to far side of reality across dire waste land of the spotless mind reveals bold quality of strong friendships designed by manufacture fervid faith bonding hearts of strangers with calm words disguised as solemn hymns of potency. Deep swim to far side of reality in bottomless abyss of weird insight exposes monstrous demons of my heart who hunger to consume galactic fruit that shimmers so enticingly correct from twisted hands of sad demonic trees. High flight to far side of reality above gold clouds of crystal palaces lures thirsty angel of my bitter heart to hope for afterlife of pleasant bliss strolling with God in Garden of Delight where my doppelganger plays lyre of faith. Bright prance to far side of reality inside wide ring of tall emerald stones attracts shocked apparition of my brain to hope my spirit lives eternally before and after this organic frame contains assertive passion of success. Mad quest to far side of reality around Plutonian forest of wise crows tricks me to follow Golden Way of Weird where I assert prophetic state of mind because I see in vision of dream code events that never happen on this Earth. Brave strike to far side of reality against oppressive gang of psychic thieves compels me to rebel against false gods who reign on hill of skulls with holy word because this space of land around my head provides foundation for my sovereignty.
Trick The Algebraic Vain
Trick The Algebraic Vain © Surazeus 2026 09 29 Exquisite concept of the codicil, that supplements virtual world of my brain with legal formalities of false creeds, contrived to trick the algebraic vain into believing in the Afterlife, facilitates my quest to find the Grail. Though I was born to emulate the god who honors fabricated states of mind with brave expenditure of sordid faith, I strive to graduate from fairy school through evanescence of inglorious jokes that deal explicit codes of ardent grace. Assigned to play adjacent analyst through progress of attractive avenues, I claim my heart has been reauthorized to track essential functions of desire through formulas of courage birds invent by dancing in exotic episodes. Though self-contained by modular regret through optimal duty of honest leaps, despite elite membership of my brain in building framework for our new world view, I compile facts for divine currency concealed by mortgage of the covenant. Calm grandeur of incisions once revised, by calculating new visions of clouds, requires misspelled austerities of love to reassemble cracked puzzle of pride that glorifies deep beauty of true hearts, expunging envy through obsessive joy. Through fractal letter of soul maintenance, reversed by secret techniques of concern, we shop for shocking gossip at the church where angels store grain in bags of despair, till wooden robot of ethereal fear provides welfare for winners who still fail. Awake at aperture of dreamless domes, where haughty angels boast of bankruptcies, I balance catalogs of proofless facts with mental functions of the carnival because we must express impassioned creeds which polishes expanding scope of truth. Thus I will broadcast biblical welfare through wireless workshops of witless thieves who rank themselves pleasant entrepreneurs whose hearts are bound by rainbow allergies, or else we all will die from laughing bombs that disassemble our religious faith.
Lurid Hills Of Ithaka
Lurid Hills Of Ithaka © Surazeus 2026 09 29 Since Ithaka is always on my mind, forever just ahead in swirling mist toward which I journey by the starry map, I gather riches of sorrowful truth in my constructing hands so I can build safe haven for my children to grow wise. Through curtains of uncertainty I leap into frame of the sudden photograph where I hang frozen without angel wings till paper crinkles and dissolves to dust, then I fall into well of gravity to hold my loving spouse in gentle arms. Though brave heretics against holy thoughts emerge in flames from tomb of confidence, they cast all superstitions to the ground in challenge to the Gorgon of the church that lurks as faceless ghost of arrogance in twisted shadows of the broken house. Since travelers still ride their placid ways in cool shade of the nuclear missile bomb, we give each other tickets for the train that never takes to Heaven nameless soul who flocks around my passion-wired mind as loyal bride in tattered wedding dress. Because the yellow sea ghost of desire derides our plan derived from mordent leaves to follow blood-thick river of respect, I leap the lunar silences of fate while I record sweet music of the sand to prove that Heaven is our fantasy. If snow disfigures idols of our gods that stand by frozen brooks of travesty, I may decide to run with gentle wolves through evergreen forest of lonely vales far from the illness of my fractured mind so I become light of the afternoon. Now that my deconstructed soul of masks has been regenerated by the egg, my mother asks the spirit of her god to beam from stars and animate my mind with solemn honor of the upright creed, but I would somersault the laughing beach. With unconstraining voice of solitude I dare rejoice at rapture of my heart when I guard healing fountain with sharp eye that waters lurid hills of Ithaka with ghosts of heroes who give away names of their brave spirits to the world today.
Crippled Wing Of Fire
Crippled Wing Of Fire © Surazeus 2026 09 29 Forbidden sorrow of the cherry tree reveals sweet nothingness of urgency that spurs my climb in tangled certainty from dissolution of the river flow that casts me paralyzed in comfort snow since love diminishes my anguished pain. Soft pink of dawn reveals my long-lost home en route to unconsoling ocean shore where I am shadow of my mute desire, face glowing rose from crippled wing of fire that concentrates my numbing loneliness as swan that glides on mirror of my mind. Unburdened kindness of the leafless tree that resurrects brave dinosaurs of love inspires strange wonder of my swollen mind to ponder shrieks of gulls in frantic breeze that flicker in wide circles of concern though children invent new systems of state. Red rabbit of my half-excited heart darts swift through endless maze of wordless prayers that young girls whisper in the doorless church while washing speckled hands in bowls of oil which they smear in black words on courtroom walls to indicate precisely what they mean. She hides her stories in the broken box beneath worn dresses on the attic shelf which then transform to zombies of desire that wander buzzing streets of afternoon where carpenters repair our broken homes while devils fix electric wires of faith. Through open window of her wounded heart she hears sad crickets of apocalypse sing all night long about the formula defining process of soul gravity that drives celestial bodies to transcend market stalls where angels sell lemonade. Through gaps of naked trees on hill of skulls the full moon shimmers with ten billion eyes because we see ourselves in how it smiles, distorting concept of the human soul that dissipates to nothing when we die because our atoms form bodies again. Alert to shocking insult of the stone, she stares at ocean waves of restless rage that sloshes inside porcelain teacup as she floats up in white-lace wedding dress and hovers with enormous angel wings above the world that feels her suffering.
Monday, September 28, 2026
Beauty Of My Changing Face
Beauty Of My Changing Face © Surazeus 2026 09 28 Remote as starlight in eyes of the dead, I gather yellow apples of the sun to sell for copper pennies of regret to lonely housewives in suburban zones whose children reincarnate ancient gods while angels paint roses on temple walls. To dwell in pale mirage of fractured homes, where healthy demons wear cute human masks, we blink as slow as stars in river waves and cast strange treasures on soft satin mud, though death projects our spirits at black clouds so words we speak could conjure cosmic minds. Since we are atoms flashing in the void, we are the cosmic mind of nothingness that beams from countless stars of swirling gas till we evolve from sloshing waves of hope and crawl with agony of gasping breath on muddy shore beneath the tree of fruit. Thus I rise up from gravity of fate to stand half-steady on this wobbling world, and reach with dizzy confidence of lust to grasp sweet fruit of frantic innocence, then eat with laughter of the falling leaf that fools us with the cycle of rebirth. Since I am gray with sleepiness of time while nodding by the fireless hearth of faith, I watch forgotten tales in ancient books transform to shadows of the nameless dead who weep for beauty of my changing face though I sell sorrows to the smirking toad. If love has fled across the mountain range with urgent mission of the messenger who scatters letters on numberless graves, I wake the pilgrim soul of ardent faith to travel nowhere on the signless road till I become the house where no one dwells. When I was new-born child of the dead king, old bearded wizard of the jagged cave received my body from wild ocean waves, and taught me how to improvise bold tales while strumming sacred lyre of Mercury, but I run bank to finance struggling farms. Gold rays of sunlight beam through stalks of wheat with timeless shimmer of transcendent truth that fills my heart with scope-expanding awe so wingless angels of this wicked world perceive weird beauty of my changing face in masks of god that pulse on temple walls.
War-Machine Of Fear
War-Machine Of Fear © Surazeus 2026 09 28 Our bodies, ground in war-machine of fear, transform from angels to demonic gods who fight for plot of land to plant fruit trees when greedy tyrant on the ziggurat demands obedience to him as sun lord so we pay taxes for his lazy guards. Hoping to escape war-machine of fear, we run across the swirling waves of fate to leap on angel wings into bright clouds, but plummet to grave Earth of broken hearts in crash that clears space in the Holy Land for us to build new empire of dead gods. Transformed to ghouls by war-machine of fear, we mortal bell-brains clanged by shouts of hate howl wild in chorus with electric wolves that prance through arch of triumph to pretend our savage slaughter of our enemies grants us rewards of noble gratitude. Confused by code in war-machine of fear, I walk through abacus of glowing trees to translate pungent scent of after-rain from shock of surging blood in twisted veins to hunger magic through imperatives that we exchange gifts with oppressive goons. Sun-dazzled fierce by war-machine of fear, I stumble lost in labyrinth of ghosts who fail to possess idols of dead kings based on transcendent nature of god eggs to dwell in yet-unrealized dreams of peace contingent on obedience to the king. To reinvent the war-machine of fear as faith-expansive gyroscope of love, I build wood bridge across abyss of death so angels may cross from their world to ours and give us treasures on the moon-gold night where laughing waterfalls preserve our thoughts. Paralyzed by the war-machine of fear that churns out greed-blind devils of the church, I wash my face in pool of Hippocrene which causes wings to sprout from my sponge brain so we pick vegetables in falling snow and eat hot soup around fire of despair. Concerned about the war-machine of fear by mining silver from deep Laurion caves, we build huge fleet of ships with billowed sails to fight great empire of the tyrant king and save our nation from enslaving chains so we may live and die with liberty.
Alive With Pleasant Pain
Alive With Pleasant Pain © Surazeus 2026 09 28 The dry sand of the desert teaches me the preciousness of water from the sky, so I pray thanks through humble orisons to the faceless Cloud Ghost who cannot hear, yet drenches me with cold indifferent rain that shivers me alive with pleasant pain. Soft purple shimmer of the morning sky, that shines with holy glimmers in our eyes, wakes tender bodies on soft flower beds so we rise up from graves of frantic dreams to sit in circle by the sparkling stream and eat sweet apples as we sing strange hymns. Though haughty angels of sharp mountain peaks mock frail flames of our conscious ardency, we stride against doomed sorrow of our fate that we all die from monsters or old age, for faceless Cloud Ghost haunts our sentient steps as blind death that swallows all life in gloom. Together working with our crafting hands we build long sturdy bridge of fallen trees to cross the gushing river of despair, so Death rewards our cleverness with gifts that trick the foolish with an early death yet reward the wise with creative life. The wet mud of the river teaches me the preciousness of warm light from the sun, so I carve wand of wisdom from tree branch, and sharpen stone I bind with vine of faith in spear I thrust to kill demonic hate, then fashion cloak that conceals me from Death. With diamond sphere refracting light of truth I lead my curious tribe on holy quest to map strange landscape of this spinning world through journey to explore the Promised Land where we build empire of the Watching Eye that rules our lives on ziggurat of faith. Once bravely young with passion to explore, I now stand aged with knowledge of the world, old as the twisted oak on hill of skulls where I hang, one-eyed, forty thousand years above the well of words where serpent runes morph me to wingless angel with star eyes. Strange beauty of this world inspires my heart with love for every living soul on Earth to see in constellations of bright stars clear chart that maps the fortune we create as destiny we choose with our free will to generate new life before we die.
Sunday, September 27, 2026
Ring Of Humming Stones
Ring Of Humming Stones © Surazeus 2026 09 27 While dancing inside ring of humming stones that refract sunlight into rainbow beams, Shimut transforms to eagle with broad wings when he twirls wand with sharpened diamond tip to drive fierce wolves into the wilderness as guard protecting souls in space of hope. Crowned with gold halo ring of jeweled light, Shimut stands guard on ten-foot ziggurat, protecting people in space of his strength who dwell safe inside ring of humming stones, eyes watching how they act through self-control to maintain rich commerce of give and take. When Manzat, Lady of the City Doors, who makes our city flourish with strict rules, assumes seat of judgment on ziggurat of far-watch, Shimut guards her soul from harm, enforcing verdicts of her sentences when she decrees how people should behave. Though star-eyed daughter of their fertile love, Tiranna, born from lightning flash of faith, feels overwhelmed by duties of her state as daughter of the Rainbow Queen of Truth, she dances laughing in the sudden rain, so she lights up the ring of humming stones. Descended from star goddess of the hills, I wake from dream of her attentive life eight thousand years since she gave birth to me, and taught me how to read future events in flashing constellations of the sky where Shimut guards Manzat with loyal love. While bright spirits of Shimut and Manzat vibrate in visions of my flashing brain, I ponder how to manage flow of love that surges through my body every hour with ache of wisdom to translate weird song of ocean waves to words humans can hear. Their spirits animate my body now with tense concern of voiceless prophecy to preach salvation with attentive zeal, achieved through dance in ring of humming stones, to billion souls of hungry urgency who gather to worship in halls of faith. Attentive focus of Shimut, to guard good citizens of Earth with ardent faith, still motivates my quest to organize chaotic passions of the human tribe encamped in nations fighting to survive as ghosts who dance in ring of humming stones.
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.
Saturday, September 26, 2026
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.
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