Name Of The Rose

Name Of The Rose
© Surazeus
2026 06 07

The bald-head man with glasses and mustache 
adjusts tweed jacket and laces work boots, 
then sweeps huge pile of old discarded books, 
heaped on rain-slick sidewalk, against brick wall 
next to glass door of some abandoned bank, 
lamenting how knowledge of the past gets lost. 

"I cannot decide what to name the Rose," 
he muses while staring with rain-blurred eyes 
at tattered covers of paperback novels 
that depict bitter women in torn dresses 
and angry men with guns and loosened ties, 
"since the girl from the village is my mother." 

When he was young student in art history 
forty years ago at the university, 
he traveled to Italy for the summer 
where he climbed the steep Stairway of the Dead 
to find lost book that Aristotle wrote 
hidden in gloomy Abbey of Saint Michael. 

One cover shows corpulent businessman, 
in blue suit and red tie, wearing a blond wing, 
whose face resembles the ravenous pig, 
so he remembers how Odysseus 
was wounded by sharp horn of a wild boar 
while hunting on slopes of Mount Porcorianus. 

Greedy tyrants who clutch with manic fear 
at transient illusions of fiscal power, 
elusive as Hound of the Baskervilles, 
since Hugo was cursed for kidnapping women, 
attempt to burn the sweet innocent girl 
because she laughs at their frail vanity. 

Residing in lush Garden of Delight, 
the Girl from the Village with golden hair, 
tends delicate rosebud of her thorned bush 
while her train of nymphs wearing flower wreaths, 
named Chastity, Danger, Reason, and Shame, 
play with elegant grace in stone-rimmed pool. 

The Lover wearing clothes of Everyman 
gazes entranced in Fountain of Narcissus 
where reflection of Rosebud sparks true love 
to blossom with desire from aching heart, 
as if sharp arrow pierces him with hope, 
so his voice echoes with Name of the Rose. 

Adjusting tattered books on metal shelf, 
the balding hippie with glasses and boots 
sells them to passing strangers for one penny, 
then visits grave of his wife, Rose Marie, 
who died from cancer twenty years ago, 
and cries how beauty of this world is lost. 

Time Maps Our Dreams

Time Maps Our Dreams
© Surazeus
2026 06 06

She tells me I can never understand, 
so I carve her face on the crystal moon. 
Rose petals flutter from her callused hand 
at subtle fracture of the bone-flute tune. 
Time rearranges fragments of strange truth 
in pages of books she sells at her booth. 

She holds my hand with casual arrogance 
while we stroll by blue river of lost souls. 
Great warriors driven by brave innocence 
fight over water that washes their skulls. 
Time scatters bones of angels in cold stream 
which transform into cars in mundane dream. 

She laughs with courage of the howling wolf 
when I attempt to build cottage of stone. 
Our bodies writhe as we swim in the gulf 
so our hearts pulse with harmonious tone. 
Time allocates conceptual words of fate 
providing signs we use to navigate. 

Moonlight gleams in her eyes with arcane code 
that adjusts conceptual frame of my mind. 
While she translates proverbs of the God Toad 
I deconstruct world zeitgeist Zeus designed. 
Time animates psychic gears of my brain 
when she takes me dancing in summer rain. 

She knows the secret thoughts my brain conceals 
by flapping swan wings on cape of her pride. 
I retrieve from Death treasures Terror steals 
to build safe haven where she may abide. 
Time programs how my brain perceives the world 
that fools me to think I am the cosmic herald. 

She pauses on edge of the jagged cliff 
to show me where ships with tattooed sails sink. 
Wanting to impress her, I act too stiff, 
so she melts my heart with sly kiss and wink. 
Time maps our dreams on animated globe 
that highlights when she sings in silky robe. 

She whispers strange tales of gods in my ear 
so I write surreal plots in tangled verse. 
Trained by Apollo to play puppeteer, 
I chant epic poem of philosophers. 
Time weaves my songs in tapestry of truth 
that presents life of our messiah sleuth. 

She appears before me in flash of light 
on Mount Takoma where I meditate. 
She gives me Lyre of Mercury to fight 
world exploitation by tyrant of hate. 
Time transfers magic of Mount Helicon 
to hidden landscape of my Avalon. 

Emanation Of My Brain

Emanation Of My Brain
© Surazeus
2026 06 06

Innocent hope twists my heart with vain faith 
that humans love each other selflessly 
and work together with one set of rules 
to cherish bodies that nurture our souls 
for I am emanation of my brain 
that flashes with dreams of eternity. 

Someday people with respect for the truth 
will build Astarium, Temple of Truth, 
to honor courageous philosophers 
and brave scientists who investigate 
complex nature of our weird universe 
to formulate codes that explain its laws. 

Through rational derangement of my senses, 
with prodigious process of deconstruction 
that fragments memes of our global world view 
in morphing puzzle pieces of weird facts, 
I jailbreak Sibyl from her golden cage 
so she can teach me wisdom of the heart. 

When I draw back crystal dome of Blue Sky, 
I find lightless gloom of eternity 
where Ophelia floats on calm black waves 
till she blooms awake with white lily lips 
at blinding flash of countless flaming stars 
that sparkle in every cell of my soul. 

Twirling wild with frantic delirium 
on jagged stones where ocean waves ferment, 
I transform from the helpless boat of fate 
to roaring serpent with electric wings 
while strumming vibrant strings of the bone lyre 
till my body dissipates in storm wind. 

Ensconced in mystic horrors of weird truth, 
I reassemble fragments of my soul 
by clamping mask of Phoebus on my face 
so with eyes of the sea my heart perceives 
luminous phantom that devils call God 
reflected in vast mirror of my mind. 

Thus I bathe naked in languor of faith 
against national pride of blood-stained flags 
while riding Behemoth of revolution 
to free my people from huge prison boats 
so we swim lost in surging sea of change 
till Liberty guides us to Hall of Hope. 

Eternal Spinner of atomic souls 
transforms my body of chemical lust 
to ethereal phantom of conscious love 
who evolves Leviathan to Gabriel 
as writhing spirit of my hungry heart 
so I give Mary glass of milk to drink. 

Gospel Of The Holy Toad

Gospel Of The Holy Toad
© Surazeus
2026 06 06

Spurred by vision of human dignity, 
derived from gospel of the Holy Toad, 
I search boundless land of America 
for brave men bold enough with hearts of gold 
to fight cruel tyrant and his oligarchs 
so women are free to choose how they live. 

Creative power of the female soul, 
described by gospel of the Holy Toad, 
consists of generating life from hope 
and molding body of material flesh 
from ideal pattern of genetic code, 
so they should be free to choose how they live. 

Protecting women from abusive harm, 
through law in gospel of the Holy Toad, 
inspires men to build havens with strong walls 
so mothers raise their children with calm care, 
safe in surrounding walls of paradise 
where they play free in garden of fruit trees. 

Beneath golden glow of the bright Full Moon, 
in tune with gospel of the Holy Toad, 
free women dress in gowns of scarlet hue 
to dance in rings of stone on crowns of hills 
and sing with sweet mercurial voice of faith 
attentive hymns to Spirit of Rebirth. 

Where men once guarded women with true love, 
designed by gospel of the Holy Toad, 
they now imprison women with cruel greed, 
attempting to control with jealous rage 
their reproductive power to create 
new body for immortal soul of genes. 

Though men would nurture life of women well, 
inspired by gospel of the Holy Toad, 
with solemn oath in binding marriage vows 
to shelter and feed children of their wives, 
weak men now snarl with bestial rage from fear 
and kill precious women they should protect. 

Trapped by patriarchal creed of command, 
repealed by gospel of the Holy Toad, 
men strive for centuries to legalize 
social control over bodies of women 
to manage reproductive privilege 
they exercise to increase their offspring. 

New mission to restore feminine rights, 
proclaimed by gospel of the Holy Toad, 
propels new generation of good men 
to assert matriarchal rights to decide 
when and with whom women will procreate 
through passionate wisdom of divine love. 

Snow-Kissed Apple

Snow-Kissed Apple
© Surazeus
2026 06 06

Snow-kissed apple on the arching bough, 
teach me how hope inspires the heart to love, 
though disease and death haunt our lonely town 
and twist angelic bodies with harsh pain, 
so sweet juice of your truth, from sun and rain, 
may fill my wounded mind with energy. 

Strange glow of sunlight through web of tree limbs 
exposes eerie ache of wordless hope 
for faces that smile bright with cheerful mien 
on summer afternoons by sparkling stream 
where we play games among the market stalls 
while men in ring of stones discuss great things. 

Heart latched on swift angelic flight of dreams, 
I search for secret name carved on gray cliff 
which indicates what nameless soul I sense 
awake in tangled shadows of lost time 
so I may channel wisdom they perform 
with courage to challenge despair and win. 

Dazed by hard sunlight of relentless faith, 
I shelter under Arcus Gaviorum 
built by mind and hands of Vitruvius, 
and listen to the dainty sparrow chirp 
sharp thoughts of passion to rejuvenate 
spirit of Janus in full flush of spring. 

Snow-kissed apple beneath the great blue sky, 
revive my wounded heart with honesty 
that nothing matters in this frantic world 
but fellow travelers on road of life 
who spring with me from turbid lake valley 
where bones of our ancestors grow as trees. 

Thin wail of sharp mercurial regret 
sparks in my wounded heart strange memory 
when we assemble in tall ring of stones 
to sing in tribal choir of loyal faith 
with one communal voice of eager hope 
that we this hour glow bright with light of stars. 

With pulsing wolf-heart of hysteric rage 
I race through tangled forest of contempt 
to rescue from aggressive chains of greed 
my clan enslaved by gang of haughty thieves 
who mock me when I hurl courageous spear 
and leave me crippled on the raven hill. 

Snow-kissed apple hanging from the moon 
so high and far from trembling hand of thirst 
till sudden flutter of dark sparrow wings 
shakes fruit of heaven loose so it falls straight, 
fill me with light of stars and wind of hope 
so I may free my clan from slavery. 

Clear Light Of Atar

Clear Light Of Atar
© Surazeus
2026 06 06

My heart longs for the bright Hyrcanian Sea 
where morning sun gleams gold on silver waves 
so I run free with White Horse of the wind 
to free world people from cruel tyranny 
who dance with joy in groves of apple trees 
till death disperses souls in evening breeze. 

Blue breeze of the mystical radiant force, 
that emanates from aching heart of hope, 
blows through branches of pomegranate trees 
while Ahura Mazda gives Kingship Ring 
to honest Ardashir with generous heart 
on sacred Mountain of the Lion God. 

Bold sense of Justice glows still in my heart 
eighteen hundred years from that solemn hour 
brave Ardashir enforced rule of fair law 
through programs funding work of humble men, 
farmers raising crops from soil of Earth, 
and craftsmen constructing wagons and homes. 

Lush pomegranate tree grows from my heart 
on sandy shore of our Hyrcanian Sea 
where spirit of First Mother lingers still 
in swirls of silver wind that bear starlight 
as holy flames of truth from cave of dreams 
which animate my body with desire. 

Strong thread of wisdom, forged from light of truth 
by gentle hand of Anahita, weaves 
my secret heart in tapestry of faith 
to noble goal of justice for all souls 
brave Ardashir attends with righteous eye 
to bind contentious tribes with common goal. 

With brave Sassanian spirit in my heart, 
which urges me to create health from pain, 
I maintain psychic balance of firm faith 
between conservative respect for safety 
and progressive vision for social growth 
that nurtures dream of each person to live. 

Though we seem to wander far off our road 
in desolate gloom of the bleak wilderness, 
Clear Light of Atar, which flares from our hearts 
at clarion spell that Zoroaster sings, 
dispels grim darkness of bitter despair 
so we see Golden Path of Righteousness. 

Awake with soul of Zurvan in my heart, 
trained by Nairyosangha, his Messenger, 
I aid Arshtat, Goddess of Truth and Justice, 
to maintain order in our whole world empire 
that unites nations of Earth in one faith 
which values women and choices they make. 

Accident Of Lonesome Wind

Accident Of Lonesome Wind
© Surazeus
2026 06 05

Each time I walk to the center of time 
to leave mask of my soul on wall of fate, 
I find ghost of my body by the door 
that leads to library of secret tales, 
so when I laugh with joy at song of death 
all the houses in the world float away. 

I hang upside down from branch of the oak 
to ponder how we always seem to know 
how to build sturdy shelter from the storm 
that rearranges furniture of lies 
through revolution of the dancing book 
that strands our bodies in the empty room. 

Awaiting accident of lonesome wind 
that strikes our numb hearts with attentive pride, 
we give each other bags of secret light 
which amplifies with bells cry of the heart 
for independence of courageous faith 
reversed by blank reflection of the eye. 

No time to march on mission of concern 
bequeaths calm passion of our aching hearts 
to resurrect weird stories about gods 
contending through assertive synergies 
that possess bodies with no obvious goals 
to claim salvation from the fractured moon. 

Yet in context of moral amplitude, 
we build from tangled roots of screaming trees 
sleek boats with alabaster curves of fate 
that we sail over seas of sudden growth 
with plan to judge contentious games of wealth 
adverse to solemn circumstance of love. 

Contained by subtle scope of spooling words 
that snap snowflakes in swirling spray of fear, 
my seething soul attempts to leap on wings 
of fluid light rays after time dissolves 
to flexible tension less technical 
than cursed abundance of authorized thought. 

Convenient methods for defensive stance, 
based on deployment to digital dunes 
diffuse with casual deviance of needs, 
determine conscious deficit of fate 
that might be feasible to humble minds, 
except we gravitate through surging waves. 

Magnetic minds consider integers 
designed by syntax-twisting narrators 
unique to each unclassified detective 
who guarantees genetic happiness 
described by endless glossary of themes 
presented by ghost of the guardian. 

Time-Crooked Harp

Time-Crooked Harp
© Surazeus
2026 06 05

Confused by turpentine of psychic thoughts 
that mangle phonelines without alphabets, 
Phoebus extricates from pages of books 
conceptual phantoms of princes and priests 
who leech off farmers tending fields of wheat, 
then plays haunting tunes on time-crooked harp. 

Excited by oxygen of dream codes 
that divert attention of business clerks, 
Gandalf guards broken gate to paradise 
by stealing apples from the Tree of Life 
and selling them to pilgrims in black robes 
who seek salvation from the laughing skull. 

Disturbed by acetone of ardent faith 
that Angry Storm Man watches over us, 
Lucifer patrols maze of city streets 
with lamp of truth dispelling gloom of hope 
in garden of weeping idols to find 
last happy child of the apocalypse. 

Inspired by nitrogen of angel blood 
designed as ink for mad philosophers, 
Faunus chases shadow of his dead wife 
deep in Abbatia Sancti Michaelis 
where Sibyl lounging on gold velvet couch 
reveals prophecy of the Scarlet Horse. 

Unsettled by helium of holy light 
that beams from nuclear reactor of power, 
Belenus climbs steep Stairway of the Dead 
to marble Portal of the Zodiac 
where refugees of war beg for peach pies 
baked by the woman with ten thousand eyes. 

Delighted by krypton of stellar tones 
that radiate from galactic spheres of souls, 
Orion calculates romantic scale 
expanding scope of dream analysis 
we need to comprehend divinity 
inherent in programming of our brains. 

Troubled by chlorine of religious creeds 
that reframe moral values of cult clowns, 
Sagittarius masks his rebellious heart 
with stolid posture of obedience 
till he escapes glass walls of paradise 
and wanders lost to find Elysium. 

Electrified by neon of true love 
that emanates from every human heart, 
Percival strums gold lyre of Mercury 
and sings epic tale of the Measurer 
who maps whole history of humanity 
by weaving names in tapestry of fate. 

Faceless Ghost Of Hope

Faceless Ghost Of Hope
© Surazeus
2026 06 05

Descended from lost exiled wanderers, 
driven away by politics of power 
over who controls bodies of the state, 
I feel their passion to explore the world 
that drove my ancestors ten thousand years 
forever westward to the Promised Land. 

Since I left Garden of Habaeleon, 
driving long train of horse-drawn wagons west, 
to build haven of mounds in apple groves 
now paved over on Isle of Avalon, 
I traveled ever on to Oregon 
to find Dawn Land at the end of the world. 

Where shall I go now with my restless heart, 
I wonder as I stand on ocean beach 
and listen to weird song of ceaseless waves 
that urge my heart to animate my mind 
with vision of Heaven we build on Earth 
in stone castles that have crumbled to sand. 

This globe that was so empty long ago, 
endless valleys of rivers and vast woods, 
now teems with more than eight billion humans 
in five thousand cities and countless towns, 
each person striving to gain happiness 
in fractured nation-states where gangsters rule. 

I hear voice of the prophet in the wind 
who speaks with authority of the sky, 
where many believe some god rules our lives, 
explain how we can unify the world 
in one religious vision of fair justice 
for every person breathing air of hope. 

This voice I hear I know is nothing more 
than echo of the faceless ghost of hope 
programmed by visions of Heaven on Earth 
where One World God rules all humanity 
which my ancestors conjured in their hearts 
as they struggled to survive times of unrest. 

New age of empires controlled by bank kings 
threatens frail system of democracies 
when greedy tyrants grasping crown of thorns 
hijack institutions of government 
to enrich themselves by exploiting us, 
as mortal men perform role of Storm God. 

Exiled by power games of thought control, 
my ancestors bore Light of Lucifer 
to found new colonies in the waste land, 
but now I must join squad of Liberty 
who leads our fight against grim Jupiter 
to support United Nations of Earth. 

Calmness Of Red Koi

Calmness Of Red Koi
© Surazeus
2026 06 04

Purple irises sway among large stones 
white as dragon skulls in green shallow creek 
that glistens dark among maple and pines. 
Kyoko in furisode kimono 
with white and yellow blossoms on dark red 
kneels gracefully on large flat white stone. 

Seven hariwake koi slowly glide 
circles in dark green pool among white stones, 
scales shimmering with platinum vibrancy. 
Kyoko holds slender hosofude brush 
with patient stillness of the wind-bent pine 
to paint koi spirit on mulberry paper. 

Metallic scales of the koi with red tail 
gleams silver among heart-shaped lotus leaves 
to mirror timeless glow of the Sky Eye. 
Kyoko contemplates calmness of red koi 
while people murmur praise for sincere curves 
that reveal beauty in painting and haiku. 

Young girl holds apricot in mud-smeared hand, 
but cries as her drunk father snarls in rage 
and hits her mother with his one good arm. 
Kyoko shields her bruised mother, Sakura, 
and shouts with fearful courage at Chuzo 
that he should find his lost arm in the sea. 

Metallic roofs of cars gleam in hot sun 
as they whiz roaring on gray narrow road, 
honking as they race to control the wind. 
Kyoko in torn jeans and long purple hair 
stands on white cement bridge that arches high 
above the frantic traffic flow of glass. 

Though I was expelled from public high school 
because I punched math teacher in his face 
for groping me, I will mold my own future. 
Kyoko wearing black skirt suit with white blouse 
sits prim before glowing computer screen 
and quickly types handwritten documents. 

I was trapped in my painful memories, 
stuck blind in the past, but I turned around 
and walk on my own feet to claim my life. 
Kyoko stands on white stone in dark green creek 
and stares at white koi swimming in small pool 
while tears splash sun-white mirror of her heart. 

Purple irises bloom beside green creek 
with graceful elegance of fragile faith 
while bees hover with pollen-dusted legs. 
Kyoko bows to Sora in brown tweed coat, 
pours bancha tea in white porcelain cup, 
then gives him onamori amulet. 

Ancient Child Of Sight

Ancient Child Of Sight
© Surazeus
2026 06 04

Though ringing shadow of my faulty mind 
transforms from star to stone of silent truths, 
I hurl spear of my unblessed heart to pierce 
reluctant mirror mask that frames this world 
with tangled formulas contrived by time 
that plot how atoms weave our dreaming brains. 

Go wild with passion of the laughing crow, 
my father shouts at me with wounded heart, 
so I flap tattered wings of desperate faith 
to understand who molds me from earth clay 
till I become new heaven-ravaged bloom 
that flowers toward infinity of light. 

With shield shaped round as full moon of despair, 
I step across hot stones of silent rage 
since light erases shadow of my soul, 
though I must celebrate aggressive thirst 
when moonlight gleams from silver bones of fate 
that cannot save my soul from nothingness. 

Heart bound by gloom of silence before dawn, 
I reach pale hands to bale dark emptiness 
with flower-fragile words of timeless truth 
that flow with fluid nonchalance of water 
at strict trajectory of hammer words 
which I swing straight at adamantine fear. 

I map lost land where moon-fish slither swift 
among stiff reeds of whistling innocence 
at shock of night-eyes open in my hands 
since I am born as ancient child of sight 
trapped in fractal shell of Plutonian ice 
till I reach home in swirls of wordless snow. 

Strange feeling pierces heart of mirror ice 
at gust of wordless wind that blows and blows 
across vast shapeless field of tangled wires 
where frightened gods transform to twisted trees 
with stone feet rooted deep in jagged soil 
against brave ardor of fantastic speech. 

Gasping for ethereal breath at dawn, 
I claw hard clumps of clay out of my heart 
to capture fleeting flash of endless days 
in flame-baked jar in which I capture rain 
as water I transform to bitter wine 
by crushing grapes with calculator hands. 

No heart more wounded by shadow of fate 
than mine expands from fractured seed of faith 
at sudden tone of fraught analysis 
that sings with hoarse assertion time uncoils 
while I row coffin boat across cold lake 
to where my father hangs from tree of lies. 

Ethical Fortune Of Failure

Ethical Fortune Of Failure
© Surazeus
2026 06 03

Short ordinariness straight beyond fusion 
functions well to stretch elastic contraption 
adjacent to abandoned pale of peonies 
against aggressive balance that collides 
with decommissioned clarity of resolve 
each time desire delays collaged success. 

Clara chuckles with customized concern 
at coded riddle of complex compliance 
that she contrives from tangled countenance 
devised with ethical fortune of failure 
out of fashion with gospel guiltiness 
disguised as glorious character she plays. 

Empty except for fraught franchise of fame, 
based on unexplained expense of regret 
forecast by maudlin devil who steals freedom 
from business-minded buyers of past sins, 
her heart expands chambers of mimed cassettes 
enough to enclose curious councilors. 

Compared to concrete evidence of circuits, 
compiled by desperate brokers with intent 
to sell insurance based on hardcore humor, 
her sense of justice displays civil charge 
through well-equipped degrees of separation, 
less inconclusive that digesting death. 

Exposed by glorious garage gate of fate, 
Clara ponders how to explain forgiveness 
she purchased with thirty pieces of silver 
that all become full moons of bitter nights 
flashing with foreign assets of fake books 
awarded for deconstructing the state. 

Acquired blueprints for temple of acceptance 
reveal busy methods of management 
which traffic engineers of soul awareness 
consider vital to adjusting flow rate 
within budget of all our broken hearts 
reviewed by browsers who would never buy. 

Confirmed by custom-made conservatives, 
professional devils pilfer state coffers 
under cover of discountable projects 
that fuels complex program of deference 
in celebration of our empire state 
that Clara redesigns to nurture women. 

Acknowledged license to judge market art 
through problematic outlook pending payment 
for private program of progressive puzzles, 
stultifies unproductive corporate meetings 
in which the one-eyed giant proclaims laws 
designed to wake soul of God in our brains. 

Tricks Of Standard Words

Tricks Of Standard Words
© Surazeus
2026 06 03

If darkness bursts in cavern of my heart, 
expelling me from world of swirling eyes, 
I crawl through grass of moonlit ardency 
to find elusive absence of your face 
so I float up on wild ethereal breath 
to touch what cannot exist outside words. 

That stranger with fear-startled eyes of hope, 
reflected in vast pool of sky-flashed thought, 
must not be me because I am not real, 
though ache of anguish twists my hungry heart 
with stubborn laughter of our island world 
enclosed by wall of hills that hide my words. 

Bright sheen of thoughtless waves big as my eyes 
decide to swallow vastness of my mind, 
yet I hold still in gusts of angry wind 
that push my frame of self against contempt 
at sudden spark of wings untwisting hope 
that writhes in heart Orion seals in words. 

Since flock of ravens, white as silent snow, 
pass through expansive cavern of my heart 
at brute attention to details of peace, 
I feel my body stripped of name and rank 
so I am no one stranded on lake shore, 
tormented by false pride of naked words. 

Rain showers trapped by laughter of black clouds 
assail time-fractured frame of my mute mind 
with expectations I should conquer fate, 
inspired by courage of progressive plans 
to manage profit of expanding gain 
contrived by puzzling tricks of standard words. 

We enter cave of dreams to search for gods, 
but find dim shadows of assertive birds 
that teach us how organic beings disperse 
by leaping swift with carousel expense, 
undone by fleeting concept of bold faith 
that spools reflections of our minds in words. 

Edge of my soul that brushes shore of time 
recedes in swirls of storm clouds after dawn 
to prove my journey far from cave of faith 
requires attentive caution of regret 
that spurs evasive action to transcend 
frame of my body, safe in ship of words. 

If I should hesitate with cautious faith 
while nearing portal beyond mindless stars, 
my wounded heart may grow too fond of fate 
at slow descent to desolate vale of thoughts 
where I ponder disorder of cracked stones 
from which spring howling angels of dream words. 

Time Of The Happy Crow

Time Of The Happy Crow
© Surazeus
2026 06 02

My wingless angel of oblivion, 
who beams ecstatic stars from dreamless eyes, 
will resurrect my heart from anxious fear 
at crack of lightning that splits our world view 
so we sing in time of the happy crow 
about the New Earth we will build from hope. 

Bright jeweled scepter in hand of Shamash 
beams blinding light of truth in humble eyes 
when we walk fleeting valley of tall trees 
that scatter apples on the signless road 
so we eat in time of the happy crow 
beneath weird constellations of our hearts. 

Strange words that slither in our startled minds 
reveal face of the vagabond at dawn 
who bears world civilization of faith 
in scorpion-quick hands of frantic wings 
so we build in time of the happy crow 
time machines powered by engines of fear. 

Brave ship of hope we sail across the sea 
soars high across enormous waves of change 
while I leap far on winged feet of faith 
to catch elusive butterfly of love 
so we play in time of the happy crow 
chess game with Saraswati on the beach. 

Fabulating scenes of heroic deeds, 
I lift high Lamp of Liberty to beam 
sacred light of welcome through black storm clouds 
that lead lost refugees from distant lands 
so we feast in time of the happy crow 
on pyramid of eyes where angels cry. 

Searching for truth in vast amusement park 
lit by electric moon over Seattle, 
I give free fish to everyone who asks 
which I had caught while walking on the water 
so we laugh in time of the happy crow 
before the tyrant tries to crucify me. 

I sail glass ship across the sordid sea 
to catch the angel falling from the sky 
whose spirit represents America 
since she drowns in tears of your bitter hearts 
so we weep in time of the happy crow 
by singing hymns about new civil war. 

Since I set Sibyl free from golden cage 
to marry me in cathedral of ice, 
she prophesies fall of America 
and rise of Zarathia from its ruins 
so we dance in time of the happy crow 
to celebrate that we are still alive. 

Shadow Of The Ragged Clown

Shadow Of The Ragged Clown
© Surazeus
2026 06 02

Zeus chases shadow of the ragged clown 
down foggy beach of sorrow to the town 
where children play with skulls of ancient gods 
whose bodies regenerate in glass pods 
so time-cycling war between Dark and Light 
recalculates morals of Wrong and Right. 

Phoebus beams shadow of the ragged clown 
with holy flashlight of the eyeless saint 
while mapping Cave of Illusions to find 
ghost of Plato molding Ideas from words 
through linguistic psychology of truth 
though Venus dances with the tambourine. 

Odin twists shadow of the ragged clown 
with ardent wisdom of serpentine runes 
that flash psychotic spells of fractured moons 
above vast city maze where people roam 
between conceptual bridges beyond home 
till he grasps Wheel of Fortune with the crown. 

Shamash weaves shadow of the ragged clown 
with diamond scepter on the ziggurat 
from which he rules world empire of the bat 
that flourishes Egypt to Mexico 
where millions dance around Star Eye of God 
in world wide web of computerized brains. 

Hat-Hor casts shadow of the ragged clown 
in neon rainbow demon of our hearts 
that arches high from Pyramid of Eyes 
to urge Coatlicue in serpent skirt 
to welcome refugees with fruitful hands 
who build world empire on her singing skull. 

Nuwa grasps shadow of the ragged clown 
that glitters from five jewels of Blue Sky 
as pillars that support star dome of gods 
so we plant wheat and herd rich flocks of sheep, 
then feast and dance with spinning of the Earth 
through secret ritual of Spirit Rebirth. 

Surya hurls shadow of the ragged clown 
to woo Xochiquetzal with honey wine 
who teaches women to weave tapestries 
depicting deeds of heroes in grand scenes 
unspooling social tensions with new faith 
to balance liberals and conservatives. 

Shiva dreams shadow of the ragged clown 
sparks atoms awake as God in our brains 
so we assemble on the misty down 
in rainbow gathering of all global tribes 
who celebrate birth of America 
by building new state of Zarathia. 

Atoms Of The Earth Awake

Atoms Of The Earth Awake
© Surazeus
2026 06 02

Time molds my body from Mud of the Earth, 
desire weaves my soul from Wind of the Sky, 
faith forges my heart from Light of the Sun, 
death dissolves my name in Waves of the Sea, 
and love translates my deeds to Words of Fate, 
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake. 

Hope generates our new bodies in birth, 
so we explore the Earth to map the Why 
with exuberant passion when we run 
and fight oppressors to gain Liberty 
by translating fruit of love from cruel hate, 
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake. 

Though threads of light swerving in boundless void, 
that spiral from first flash of the big bang, 
present no individual consciousness, 
their pulse of interacting chemicals 
evolve organic brains that comprehend, 
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake. 

When mortal humans dream new state of being, 
efficient through communal exercise, 
they organize their fellow citizens, 
then rule new institutions of the state 
to personify Tribe Leader as God, 
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake. 

God is mythic concept humans design 
as ideal type of social character 
who represents noble leader of men 
attentive to nurture talents with skills 
instead of exploiting people for gain, 
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake. 

Divine Mind of the entire universe, 
that pulses from black hole of the God Eye, 
radiates in galaxies of the White Whole 
with vibrant energy of love to form 
bodies that evolve fish to singing god, 
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake. 

Whole universe of swirling galaxies 
emanates no consciousness in itself, 
yet molecules compose neural network 
which conjures virtual model of the world 
from memories I organize in tales, 
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake. 

I narrate story of humanity 
morphing from tribes of hunter-gatherers 
to global civilization of states 
which plots mental progress of our minds 
devising language to communicate, 
for I am Atoms of the Earth awake. 

Leave Bones Of My Mother

Leave Bones Of My Mother
© Surazeus
2026 06 01

If I consider how orange sunset glow 
explodes as flowers in my pulsing brain, 
I might fall in love with your timeless eyes 
that understand strange beauty of this world 
and value unseen essence of its vibes, 
yet I do not exist in pageless books. 

While I wander nowhere in flaming woods 
I gather words people lose from their tongues 
when they escape catastrophe of time 
since angels deconstruct their precious worlds 
because we are no longer real as stones 
smoothed by the endless flow of bitter tears. 

I leave bones of my mother in the land 
where I was born from sparkle of dawn rain 
when I flee alone on the signless road 
with nothing in my hands but sticky dirt 
I scattered on her body without prayers 
because she no longer exists as light. 

My mind is nothing more than passing cloud 
that haunts my nothingness of urgent hope 
with mutant shadow of the eyeless sun, 
so I continue walking somewhere else 
as I pretend to live with wounded heart 
to prove I am not real as words in books. 

Trees offer bounty of indifferent care, 
so I take gift of wisdom from their limbs, 
then sit by laughing river of respect 
where I consume sweet fruit of bitter hate 
to taste revenge I cannot execute 
because I disappear in wordless fate. 

Discarded scraps of precious memories 
fall from my hands and clatter on the ground, 
which fractures sheen of safety I once felt 
so I am zero that time calculates 
through fraudulent formula of desire 
which deflects force of psychic energy. 

Another soul that dissipates in wind 
accelerates new count of circumstance 
my brain attempts with weird seraphic code 
of faith that helps decipher manic spell 
to readjust projection we assert 
though misdirection of the ocean wind. 

With sticks and stones that bruise my naive heart 
I build enormous palace of state power 
enclosing garden of the apple tree 
to guard my secret family from harm 
who waits for me to kill the snake of lies 
because we do not exist in your mind. 

Each Time I Lose Myself

Each Time I Lose Myself
© Surazeus
2026 06 01

I find myself each time I lose myself 
so I run across the waste land of the heart 
and leap abyss of nothingness to soar 
laughing at the crystal moon of faith 
which vanishes to mist as I approach 
so I fall back into my throbbing head. 

I find myself each time I lose myself 
so I dance laughing on the sands of time 
with one hand waving free to grasp the wind 
and scatter seeds of flowers so they sprout 
as rainbow angels wearing human masks 
who dive for memories in sea of dreams. 

I find myself each time I lose myself 
so I stand blindly on cliff of despair 
to map the ancient streets of Neverland 
where faceless children search for Kingdom Come 
that slips away in cold of morning dawn 
at flap of angel wings above my tomb. 

I find myself each time I lose myself 
so I strum Lyre of Mercury with sass 
to chant psychotic spell of eyeless clouds 
that beam elusive riddle of the mind 
when I chase shadow of the ragged clown 
who wants to preach salvation without faith. 

I find myself each time I lose myself 
so I explore fog-swirling ruins of time 
where zombies gather in the Church of Glass 
to worship Vampire King with Crown of Thorns 
who drinks Blood of the Lamb in Holy Grail 
to resurrect our characters from books. 

I find myself each time I lose myself 
so I drive piston-engine time machine 
on winding mountain Road of Honesty 
to find Cave of Illusions in the Alps 
where God-Eye Diamond of my divine heart 
beams first flash that flares forth from the big bang. 

I find myself each time I lose myself 
so I write epic of philosophers 
depicting heroes who quest for the truth 
when they perform in circus of the mind 
amazing acrobatics with weird words 
that formulate atomic principles. 

I find myself each time I lose myself 
so I decide to run for president 
to rebuild institutions through respect, 
constructing from ruins of America 
state of equal rights as Zarathia 
where everyone eats from the Tree of Life. 

Seven Sons Of Jupiter

Seven Sons Of Jupiter
© Surazeus
2026 06 01 

Driving across waste land of history, 
I find the Third Man of Antarctic Quest 
still hitchhiking across America, 
so I give him ride to Zarathia 
where he gives me lost Lyre of Mercury 
as reward for helping him escape Hell. 

Though I am entirely my own real self 
who speaks with voice of fake authority, 
I hide behind cracked mask of Orpheus 
so you cannot see who I really am, 
as if it matters after I am dead, 
since I am ghost of sorrow in your head. 

I stride along strange river in bright woods 
to map new strategy for civil war 
in noble mission of the broken heart 
to restore democracy in our land 
pilfered by gang of thieves in business suits 
who proclaim their right to control the dirt. 

Shocked by excessive arguments of faith, 
I flee cathedral of the mocking clown 
to find Ahura Mazda in dark cave 
where he plays eight levels of psychic chess 
against the seven sons of Jupiter 
over who controls fields of bubbling oil. 

Ever since Orpheus with nimble hands 
saved Ophelia drowning in the river, 
they have established infrastructure base 
on which we will construct our new world order 
which helps the seven sons of Jupiter 
overthrow all greedy tyrants and kings. 

Inside the Crippled Pegasus Cafe 
in Paris down on the Parc Rives de Seine, 
I find Hegel, Marx, and Lenin relaxed 
as they watch current world events unfold 
according to their social formulas, 
so I steal wings of Icarus to fly. 

Just as I soar above bright golden clouds 
to bring Good News to Lord Hyperion, 
Orpheus shoots me down with Gun of Fate, 
then teaches me to map the water pipes 
which channel fresh water to every home 
while Jesus and Odin fight for World Crown. 

As seventh son of Jupiter, I play 
role of the jester who exposes crimes 
committed by the hungry oligarchs 
who hoard wealth of the Earth in crumbling tombs 
where skeletons of dead gods dance in rain 
that washes all our graves down to the sea. 

One Eternal Vibe Of Light

One Eternal Vibe Of Light
© Surazeus
2026 05 31

After I ride the slow afternoon train 
among house-cluttered hills of lonely towns, 
I walk shores of the ocean through my dreams 
to feel the ebbing tide of life recede 
with hoarse voice of the old sibilant song 
that sparks electric self out of my heart. 

When dust of Me becomes land of the globe, 
which fascinates my eyes with slender light, 
I wonder what name ancient people called 
this river that reflects mask of my face, 
since I still hear dirge of the ship-wrecked souls 
who ask me for secret of global peace. 

I merge my soul in drifting sand of change, 
baffled by uncanny thoughts of desire 
that lure me to find soulmate of my heart 
who walks as distant shadow on the beach, 
so I call out to them with plaintive cry 
but I find they have become the Real Me. 

Loud voices echo against trunks of pines 
when thoughts my mouth projects recoil as fear 
that bursts in peals of thunder over hills 
with cold ironic laughter of false pride 
so I extend my hand with trembling faith 
to grasp elusive fish of timeless truth. 

Strange essence of this whole beautiful world 
eludes perception of my eager mind 
to understand flash of cause and effect 
when light reflecting off things I define 
stings my heart with sweet shock of ecstasy 
that we are one eternal vibe of light. 

Star-eyed Ocean Mother within my heart 
expresses riddles through analysis 
to translate murmur of the mocking waves 
refracting light through prism of my brain 
because I contradict my alien self 
beyond capricious attitude of faith. 

Vast ocean breathes my swollen soul with faith 
though I become invisible to eyes 
of human scope expanding beyond code 
programmed to bind safe haven of my heart, 
because I am the new moon no one sees, 
no more than subtle voice on evening breeze. 

I drift at random on long road of life 
but always find myself on ocean shore 
where ghosts of my ancestors haunt my steps 
because I follow path they blazed with hope 
through fathomless workings of secret codes 
expressed as aching dirge to accept death.