Fragile Flame Of Dreams

Fragile Flame Of Dreams
© Surazeus
2026 02 18

Guided safely by fragile flame of dreams, 
I wander blithely endless maze of myths, 
stopping to chat with idols of dead gods 
as I enquire about their social lives 
when we share drinks and contemplate the world, 
then I continue on my merry way. 

Awake from play in fragile flame of dreams, 
I walk pathway along the grassy hill 
where children of the stars play hide and seek 
then run inside the seven-gabled house 
to eat chocolate cake and watch fun cartoons 
while children in distant lands flee from bombs. 

Surprised by light from fragile flame of dreams, 
I gaze at tattered Wings of Icarus 
mounted within glass case near Crown of Thorns 
inside Museum of the Fallen God, 
but the guard dressed in clean uniform glares 
when I attempt to sneak a photograph. 

Amused by glow from fragile flame of dreams, 
I ask Apollo if he understands 
true nature of the graceful laurel tree, 
but he just strums guitar with angry glare 
and howls with hippie voice of psychic angst 
against the empire war-machine of fear. 

Confused by flash from fragile flame of dreams, 
I ask Beethoven how to play the lyre 
with stark electric anguish of true love 
for noble-hearted Brunhild with star eyes 
who hurls sharp spear of generosity 
at King Midas to save humanity. 

Inspired by hum from fragile flame of dreams, 
I chant, "Hail to the Jewel in the Lotus," 
while floating high on television tube 
that beams my body through the multiverse, 
incarnate as Avalokitesvara 
with hundred billion eyes of god-star brains. 

Reborn through egg in fragile flame of dreams, 
I retrieve Apple of Eris with hope 
of romance with wise goddess of the Earth, 
then stand before Saraswati, Kwan Yin, 
and Athena, contemplating which queen 
to offer rich fruit of my loyal heart. 

Destroyed by blast from fragile flame of dreams, 
I kneel in grand cathedral bombed to ruin, 
and grasp at shattered fragments of world view 
assembled by ancient philosophers, 
then design new Temple of Global Truth 
that merges all religions in one faith. 

Justice Rallies Us

Justice Rallies Us
© Surazeus
2026 02 18

I haunt this world as one already dead 
and thus transcend contemporary strife 
with visions of global peace in my head 
as ideal state of equal-justice life, 
because greedy men terrified of death 
oppress the rest of us by stealing breath. 

Attentive to mute anguish of the folk 
who hide their faces behind masks of pride, 
I program mental world view of the woke 
that guides progress of my confident stride 
when I unite with comrades of our land 
to counter theft by the capitalist hand. 

With star-spangled banner of Liberty 
we join brave effort to oppose cruel thugs 
who kidnap children of democracy, 
and rescue them with encouraging hugs, 
because together we learn how to cope 
when Justice rallies us with reborn hope. 

Our old world view lies shattered on the ground, 
smashed by fierce gang of wealthy oligarchs, 
so we assemble on republic mound 
in world coalition against monarchs 
and build from ruins of America 
United Nations of Zarathia. 

I haunt this world as one barely alive 
after harsh assault by kings in disguise, 
yet we join forces of truth to survive 
against exploiters who patrol the skies 
in planes that shoot bombs to destroy our homes 
so we wander where the blind prophet roams. 

We help Sisyphus with his rolling stone 
to smash gold idol of the clay-foot king 
who seems to tower over all alone 
but will crumble when brave Valkyries sing, 
so restoring our tax money he stole 
to fund free healthcare is our noble goal. 

With wings of Icarus I weave from faith 
I soar above our global city maze 
with message of success from the God Wraith 
whose love pilots our growth to the next phase 
as leader who nurtures our innates skills 
when we celebrate truth in flowered hills. 

We haunt our world with knowledge we will die 
yet strive to build lush paradise for all 
who quest for truth by analyzing why, 
then feast and sing in world-religion hall 
that binds our hearts and minds with code of truth 
composed by wisdom of messiah sleuth. 

Evening Star Of Choice

Evening Star Of Choice
© Surazeus
2026 02 17

If I feel the Evening Star through thick fog 
that half-veils tidal flats of kelp on rocks, 
though my eyes cannot perceive its sharp light, 
I may breathe time-swirled element of faith 
that jagged pool of invisible light 
may cleanse my wounded heart with honesty. 

Lost in dark fog of brutal watershine, 
far from safe cave of innocent respect, 
I transform into heron in low tide 
with eager hope to soar on graceful wings 
above contentious crowds of worshippers 
who seek to grasp bright calcium flame of truth. 

Scattered feathers from fallen angels twitch 
in hungry sand of fractured polity, 
oblique with evasive context of rage 
misleading sharp-eyed devils who require 
typographic planes of opaque dispute 
drawn from excessive expertise of fear. 

Imprinted layers of conceptual fate, 
still wrapped in umber clarity of trust, 
define unended journeys beyond fear 
condensed as statues guarding halls of lies 
where whispered secrets of gauzed confidence 
conceal our souls in figurines of glass. 

Though startling sequence of dream formulas 
pluck private strings of cordial scarcity, 
hall mirror faces mirror of my brain 
with law of splendid light to balance pain 
against collapsing telescope of fate 
through which I see the Evening Star of Choice. 

Amazed by radiance of the unseen house, 
preserving shocked glare of the puppeteer, 
I light ten thousand candles of my heart 
to highlight origin of tangled words 
that multiply our bodies from desire 
which thrive sparked on infinity effect. 

Electric construct of my mental Self, 
style modeled on profile of Orpheus 
refined by quantum energy of love, 
provides framework for weird ontology 
I program from puzzle of spectral souls 
which animates my fragile flame of dreams. 

Syntax of artificial chronicles, 
commissioned from my heart by primal gods, 
converts my thoughts to tangled threads of words 
which angels weave in global tapestries 
presenting unreal shadows of our brains 
we play as riddles in Plutonian homes. 

Ripe Apple Of The Sun

Ripe Apple Of The Sun
© Surazeus
2026 02 17

If I should catch ripe apple of the sun 
before it falls in thick Slough of Despond 
I may taste bitter sweetness of true love 
which is why the revolution is fought 
with passion for aspiring right to stand 
with fluted robe of hope on modern shores. 

We ride wave of this golden age with class, 
exquisite in white marble drapery 
that gleams with brutal wisdom of starlight 
in gleaming waters of the fountain pool 
where statues of our ancestors remain 
long after their souls program our genes. 

While change remains eternal principle 
that guides our progress from classical times, 
we gaze with rapture at excessive shapes 
contained in watery medium of our minds 
reflecting glimmer of grief in our eyes 
we cherish with consensual fortitude. 

Alive in warm flesh of young nameless boy, 
Apollo glides in cluttered streets of Rome 
with flute he plays for national orchestras 
on transparent stage of undevoured time 
to note accentual differences of rhyme 
we share as witness of treacherous death. 

Yet unread pages of the ancient book 
still mirror characters with noble traits 
who never walk this world in mortal flesh 
for they are ideals we aspire to play, 
stuck in impossible scenarios 
that always end in tragic loss of faith. 

Uncommon radiance of her special face 
gleams clear with incandescent honesty 
through immaterial passion to retrieve 
efficient confidence from tombs of fate, 
defined by absence of our mortal souls 
embodied by glass idols of respect. 

Endurance through aesthetic thoughtfulness 
reveals how numb bereavement frames our days 
with courage to survive contingencies 
no one but scarred survivors will expect 
though trapped in consolations of contempt 
that drown our hearts in cold indifferences. 

Assertive discipline of summoned ghosts 
constrains excessive passion to transcend 
bland credence of divisive energies 
that teach us how to understand our pain 
despite attempts to bank fateful accounts 
with apples we store in our wounded hearts. 

Office Of Messiah Sleuth

Office Of Messiah Sleuth
© Surazeus
2026 02 16

Since I can plumb the sinking of my soul 
in heat that sinews my abolished will, 
I will not cherish struggle to retreat 
against wild burning of eternal beat 
that teaches me to love beauty of Death 
whose energy recalculates dream math. 

I see our sky ascending black as light 
with startled judgment of attentive right 
above brick buildings on the rugged hill 
that twists stark epitaph of rainbow will 
against hosannah cries of bitter fear 
that highlights process of the river gear. 

If roots of wild ingrafted olive trees 
should wither at harsh breath of winter breeze 
I scale dire revelation of my heart 
with arcane code of wisdom on star chart 
which I consult to prophesy in code 
fall of our empire on the signless road. 

Yet night enchants ghost lion in blue glass 
that shields my heart from haughtiness of class 
to coil my soul in portrait of my brain 
wound tight in telescope of spirit gain 
that dulls excessive pain of wind-stung eyes 
concealed by mirror of time-fractured skies. 

No mountain in this world is now unscaled 
by ancient sages who have never failed 
to light bold hearth of science with respect 
defined by gorgeous flash of intellect 
so we may journey to the Promised Land 
found on no map composed by human hand. 

Still no miscarriage of my fertile brain, 
she gathers books to categorize gain 
against assertive reach of mad fame 
by choosing not to bandage wound with name 
that speaks with querulous voice of concern 
for how bitter men steal books to burn. 

Ephemeral music of our savage skies 
teaches children that every creature dies 
with graceful paranoia stricken weird 
by tearful knowledge of the disappeared 
who auction memories in the temple hall 
in fair exchange for coins earned at the ball. 

Monotony of vision mirrors hope 
exchanged for childhood tricks on how to cope 
despite my stature as calm nihilist 
convinced by theory of the Narcissist 
that we may bear unchanging scroll of truth 
contrived by office of messiah sleuth. 

Wordless Wonder Of Why

Wordless Wonder Of Why
© Surazeus
2026 02 16

I sometimes forget I am still alive 
so I open the door that goes nowhere 
and walk somewhere else I think I should be 
then stand for some time on the nowhere spot 
to think about nothing but warm sunlight 
that molds my soul from words I never speak. 

I remember with sudden flash of fear 
that I should be somewhere else about now 
so I run gasping for breath of the cloud 
through shadows of trees that call out to me 
but I stop by the pool of silver light 
and wonder if I have some kind of name. 

I may not be real as I think I am 
so I keep walking to the secret place 
while asking the bird with arrogant wings 
if anyone has the same face as me 
but she explains that I am made of rain 
so I hop and flap my arms to be real. 

I almost forget I want to transcend 
this fragile body that gets tired and hurt 
till I trip over the innocent stone 
which contains the secret name I should have 
so I caress rough surface of its mind 
till I become its true stillness of strength. 

I try to record visions of my eyes 
with marks I draw in soft dirt of the world 
but sudden gust of wind from black clouds 
erases memories of who I should be 
so I stand and walk toward the glowing beam 
that teleports me to top of the world. 

I look backward into shadowy woods 
and listen for creak of demonic trees 
that teach me how to speak words of my thoughts 
then turn forward to walk into the sky 
but I fall to my knees and laugh surprised 
at vast roundness of the world I perceive. 

I stand on top of the high mountain peak 
and reach my arms to touch the silver light 
then turn slowly around on trembling feet 
to feel endless rolling hills of green trees 
surrounded by silver shimmer of seas 
that understand wild beating of my heart. 

I howl loud with wordless wonder of why 
at awesome beauty of the turning world 
that gleams in writhing passion of my soul 
because my pulsing body is amazed 
that I am still alive with ache of love 
without concern that I will someday die. 

Ancient Wings Of Icarus

Ancient Wings Of Icarus
© Surazeus
2026 02 15

While on my quest to find the Holy Grail, 
hitchhiking far across this crazy land, 
I almost trip over long dragon tail 
that teleports my soul to Samarkand. 
With ancient wings of Icarus I fly 
around this world shaped like a giant eye. 

For deep inside my heart I hear the voice 
of humankind cry out for joyful peace 
because we make our fate with every choice 
since Plato pondered life in sunlit Greece. 
With ancient wings of Icarus I fly 
around this world shaped like a giant eye. 

Yet when the mighty wind of change blows wild 
across our land from sea to shining sea 
we rise with spirit of the newborn child 
and shape this land so everyone lives free. 
With ancient wings of Icarus I fly 
around this world shaped like a giant eye. 

Young wizard on the winding diamond road 
lifts ladder of brave opportunity 
so when hard rain falls at hum of the toad 
we bind all tribes in one community. 
With ancient wings of Icarus I fly 
around this world shaped like a giant eye. 

I travel with guitar of Mercury 
and sing in every town of working folk 
to cast bright vision with dream sorcery 
converting minds to lifestyle of the Woke. 
With ancient wings of Icarus I fly 
around this world shaped like a giant eye. 

Though sea of tears divides our lonely hearts 
we build global Bridge of Togetherness 
so rainbows shining on our psychic charts 
guide us to meadow of the shepherdess. 
With ancient wings of Icarus I fly 
around this world shaped like a giant eye. 

Long after empire of America 
falls from our disillusionment in truth, 
we gather in feast hall of Onatah 
where we vote for our new messiah sleuth. 
With ancient wings of Icarus I fly 
around this world shaped like a giant eye. 

Though I am lost in land of Zathamar, 
Seattle to Miami on the road, 
my soul transforms into the Morning Star 
from eating mushroom of the Buddha Toad. 
With ancient wings of Icarus I fly 
around this world shaped like a giant eye. 

Redesign God As Robot

Redesign God As Robot
© Surazeus
2026 02 15

Secret encounter with the howling rock 
excites regret for stealing ocean waves 
and selling them to black horse of the moon 
who always seems to know what words I eat 
with slavish laughter of marvelous dusk 
depicted by rupestral mask of life. 

Frail darkness of my voice fills void of hope 
with blazing cities stuck on jagged cliffs 
through my irresistible zeal concealed 
by stamps of genetic inheritance 
born from resplendent force of purity 
despite victorious angst of smoking swamps. 

Delicious dearth of dream-partitioned walls 
decides with sudden rain of screaming lamps 
to mimic fortitude dead angels share 
with bitter gods of non-eternal light 
who steal hot loaves of bread for nobody 
except to play chess in the smoking swamp. 

Now that Beauty shall be moral again 
we stand before the seething vat of ghosts 
who should wear delicate masks with pink lace 
if they return to forest of respect 
where wicked angels aim guns at their heads 
because they want to eat her apple pies. 

Untraceable stains of insulting sneers 
express continuum of harmful jokes 
disjointed from assertive rage at strength 
displayed by angels who resist their hate 
by walking quietly down small-town road 
because love is meat and drink of the heart. 

Difficult hour I shall make friends with Death 
decries strict resolution sold for peace 
through backward release of unfractured air 
unlocked by egregious snow of despair 
which depends on blood that spurts from our eyes 
by hangers that clatter on ice-slicked floors. 

Aspen tree tangled with barbed wire of fear 
calls for his yellow-haired mother of time 
to come home on the star-stripped road of fate 
at creak of rusty hinges on sad doors 
that rip her heart with agony of faith 
trapped by disappearing words of contempt. 

If we look Trickery in his rancid eye 
with eager bitterness to buy his lies 
we could fire guns at angels in the sky 
who drink bitter tears of electric spies 
since everything we thought was true is not, 
unless we redesign God as Robot. 

Wet Patio Of Time

Wet Patio Of Time
© Surazeus
2026 02 15

Twinkle of raindrops on patio planks 
wakes memories of weird dramatic scenes 
that her ancestors once experienced 
for millions of years on this turning globe 
when they sat in silence of everywhere 
on timeless afternoons of falling rain. 

Shadows of old memories from her life 
stretch bright across wet patio of time 
that echoes laughter of wind-swirling leaves 
to veil warm sunshine of her lonely smile 
that glows in garden of forgotten books 
where all sad stories of dead humans hide. 

She sighs that eager children of her heart 
have scattered far across the fertile land 
as seeds blown by indifferent wind of change 
that sprout in families with unknown names 
who cherish their own memories of life 
where she is ghost of absence none can see. 

Awake with mute complacency of love, 
she tries to play observer of their play 
with patient nonchalance of bitter hope, 
yet finds in space between unspoken words 
compassion for young strangers of her clan 
with love that sheds fierce urgency of hope. 

Holding small leather Bible in pale hands, 
she walks in black shoes and long yellow dress 
on dirt road to white church on the lake shore 
where child of the sky hides inside the oak 
and writes poems in alphabet he designed 
with blood of dragons on frail autumn leaves. 

Though she knows without a doubt in her heart 
that the child of the sky inside the oak 
is father of her mother she once met 
when he was old as the bent withered oak, 
so she tries to remember his true name 
but all she can think about his Hengist. 

Dark stranger on the shore calls out her name, 
inquiring if she might have any tears 
of wordless sorrow to sell for the cow, 
so she lays flower wreath on its large head 
and parades through town to Scarborough Fair 
where she was his true love who still lives there. 

If she gets trapped in the internet game 
transforming beauty from innocent tears, 
she might ask statue of Apollo how 
to find the street where angels fear to tread, 
then laughs because life has become absurd 
as computer code of the happy bird. 

Awake In Blue Rain

Awake In Blue Rain
© Surazeus
2026 02 15

Awake in blue rain of horrible hope, 
I whisper name of every soul who lived 
on every planet in our universe 
to keep alive brave spirit of their heart 
that gleams with first flash of the white-whole light 
which flashes bright in neurons of my brain. 

Awake in blue rain of innocent fear, 
I walk the endless maze of psychic myths 
to chat with idol of every dead god 
ever worshipped by tribes of hungry folk, 
who live reborn in children of their genes 
in tangled web of human families. 

Awake in blue rain of psychotic peace, 
I stand on ziggurat of the God Eye 
with compassion for every conscious soul 
who follows guiding star of their desire 
which weaves their fate with every choice they make 
to generate new life before they die. 

Awake in blue rain of arrogant faith, 
I host communal feast of loyal friends 
in grand cathedral of angelic love 
contrived from doctrine of demonic hate 
that binds our minds with world religious rites 
presenting heroes who succeed or fail. 

Awake in blue rain of marvelous mirth, 
I wear the shining mask of Lucifer 
to walk crowded cities of Zathamar 
with brilliant lamp of wise Diogenes 
while guiding refugees from civil wars 
across the waste land to new Wonderland. 

Awake in blue rain of frantic desire, 
I wield the lightning bolt of Jupiter 
to fight the tyrant who exploits the people 
and rescue Rapunzel from golden tower 
so she sells apples in the market place 
where Phoebus helps Justice manage world life. 

Awake in blue rain of pleasurable pain, 
I bear the holy grail of Guinevere, 
forged by hands of Jesus, the Fisher King, 
through incarnation of his first-born child, 
the star-eyed Mermaid with divine blue blood 
whose spirit animates my social hymn. 

Awake in blue rain of glamorous gloom, 
I strum the sacred lyre of Mercury 
and sing epic poem of philosophers 
who laid foundation of our world empire 
preserved in creed of Academia 
to build world view on truth, not fantasy. 

We Rebuild Our State

We Rebuild Our State
© Surazeus
2026 02 14

Once I break on through to the other side 
and dance in doorway of eternity, 
I float in blissful consciousness of pain 
as bright electric snow of spirit gain, 
then sing new world view for modernity 
that sparks pure laughter of our humble pride. 

She asks me where I live with river voice, 
so I build highways sea to shining sea 
that link all cities in vast maze of souls 
awake with joy of oscillating roles 
between vast emptiness of light we see 
because we weave our fate with every choice. 

We dwell in holy land of Zathamar 
with brave attention of community 
that we join hands and hearts with honest faith 
and guard our fellow citizens with ruth 
based firm on social opportunity 
despite dictatorship of Belshazzar. 

We float on ocean of one global mind 
with earnest wisdom of dynamic change 
encrypting dream code with fantastic tune 
to open wide perceptive door of soon 
through sudden renaissance of perfect strange 
contingent on weird contract Phoebus signed. 

Intrusive measurement of tethered light 
exposes romance of intense surprise 
we share while watching fearful castles fall 
at subtle psalm that chronicles weird call 
contrived to explicate our mirror eyes 
so we learn how to calculate the right. 

If we break free from arrogant dismay 
at serpent song of pine trees on the ridge, 
we might see Helios create the wheel 
in time to understand how we should feel 
while dancing on frail sorrow of the bridge 
that fools is into learning how to pray. 

Because doors of perception reveal truth 
recorded on gold scrolls by cosmic herald, 
our eyes perceive ideas forming things 
that channel energy through horcrux rings 
which we employ at stage we are imperiled 
to vote as president messiah sleuth. 

Confused by joke of ardent tragedy 
unspooling fortunes gambled for by time, 
we all unite our individual goals 
to guard our neighbors from aggressive trolls 
who earnestly repent of evil crime 
as we rebuild our state through comedy. 

Queen Juno Sospita

Queen Juno Sospita
© Surazeus
2026 02 14

Billions of voices whisper in the dark, 
expressing emotions that beat our hearts 
with wild atomic passion of desire 
to explain vision of the world we see, 
and how we hope to play our chosen role 
in global drama we create as fate. 

I try to hear what each voice has to say, 
to focus on conception of their mind 
beamed by descriptive stream of sentences 
so I may comprehend vision of truth 
that glows as virtual model of the world 
in pulsing framework of their fragile brain. 

Their individual voices, trickling bright 
as single rivulets of private thought 
that curl down verbal fields of mountain slopes, 
merge together in larger flow of dreams 
to blend in world view everybody shares 
till all our different views form one great sea. 

With deft hands trained by Muse of lyric voice 
I weave eight billion threads of conscious minds 
in global tapestry of human hope 
so all our special colors intertwined 
depict with honor Mother of Mankind 
embodied by Queen Juno Sospita. 

Our Savior Mother Queen with gleaming eyes, 
who wears goatskin cap with strength-curling horns, 
brandishes brass spear with emerald blade, 
and shakes long sun-drenched tresses with pizzaz 
while dancing on porch of her temple hall 
to melody that Phoebus strums with joy. 

Our many voices blend in one great cry 
that swells with brutal ecstasy of faith 
while we leap high toward Glow Cloud of respect 
through bold transfiguration of our souls 
from individuals desperate to survive 
to commune bonding with vision we share. 

I stand alone on cloud-veiled mountain peak, 
arms spread with joy as wings of Icarus 
to sing my truth with private voice of hope 
that channels voices of humanity 
so all conflicting dreams blend in one dream 
where every soul shares Earth as our great home. 

Because I disappear in teeming crowd 
and lose my self in vast humanity, 
I find my true self deep inside my heart 
designed by First Mother all humans share, 
for Juno Sospita wakes in us all, 
brothers and sisters on one turning world. 

Under Indifferent Stars

Under Indifferent Stars
© Surazeus
2026 02 14

Despite regret for how life has panned out, 
based on each strange choice he refused to make, 
half-blind Wagat limps on hot river shore 
to ask Willow Witch secret of true love, 
but her skeleton lies tangled in roots 
though her young ghost still shines bright in the sun. 

Squinting through half-blind eyes of lethargy, 
Wagat imagines in haze of despair 
that he sees three tall angels in white robes 
bearing swords of flame that glint in their hands 
as they float down from hot-air balloon disk 
and speak to him with celestial thoughts. 

Grumbling in his short guttural speech of fear, 
Wagat explains to divine messengers, 
who came down from glorious clouds of light, 
that his housemate Willow Witch died last month 
and her body dissolved in tangled roots, 
but her soul should dwell in the clouds with them. 

The tallest angel with long golden hair 
explains with ethereal voice of soft wind 
that chimes with sweetness of morning birdsong 
how the world of land and water was made 
by hand of Lightning Ghost in thunder clouds, 
or so Wagat imagines he might say. 

Gasping in shock as tall angels of light 
bind his body with thick harness like theirs, 
Wagat wriggles to escape as he shouts 
when they all ascend high above the field, 
and the willow tree shrinks small as a bush 
beside the broad river that sparkles blue. 

Peering up at vast blue sky of Glow Clouds, 
Wagat sees disk of the hot-air balloon 
shudder in sudden gusts of freezing wind, 
and he howls to see the great mountain peak 
that always loomed high where the sun-eye glows 
now jut below his feet as they drift past. 

Gasping for breath as he tries to stay calm, 
Wagat stares surprised at towers of stone 
that gleam on the cliff high above the sea, 
vast maze of streets full of people and carts 
which appear to him like ants in stream beds, 
till they land on plat of the pyramid. 

Trembling as he walks with angels in streets, 
Wagat hopes to meet his lost Willow Witch 
in halls of Heaven she told him about, 
but they teach him how to pull two-wheeled cart 
so he works each day taking trash away, 
then cries each night under indifferent stars. 

With Soul Of Helius

With Soul Of Helius
© Surazeus
2026 02 14

When sunlight at dawn glitters in my eye 
I rise from the Earth and walk in the sky. 
I wander the roadless plain by the sea 
and drift with the wind that wafts my soul free. 
The ocean tells me, wherever I roam 
I am not lost for my heart is my home. 

With warm glitter of sunlight in my heart 
I stride across the world without star chart. 
I gather apples in basket of hope 
from deep-rooted tree on the mountain slope. 
The mountain tells me, wherever I roam 
I am not lost for my heart is my home. 

I spark new fire in ashes of my dream 
and roast fish I catch from the flashing stream. 
I hum in harmony with the moon chime 
to measure constant flowing of breath time. 
The river tells me, wherever I roam 
I am not lost for my heart is my home. 

To mimic rolling circle of the sun 
I bend steamed wood into wheel of the dawn. 
With soul of Helius, my father, in me 
I journey in wagon toward the Great Tree. 
The Glow Cloud tells me, wherever I roam 
I am not lost for my heart is my home. 

Sinews Of Electric Words

Sinews Of Electric Words
© Surazeus
2026 02 13

She weaves references of angelic stones 
in tangled sinews of electric words 
beyond comprehension of mortal minds 
which sparkle with frozen sheen of brave rain 
so I may witness suffering of mankind 
in tales erased from archive of our hearts. 

Filled with shy conviction of earnest faith, 
she strides with rebellion of untamed song 
down pathway of unspeakable respect 
against foundational effort of hope 
to discipline her uncontrollable mind 
trapped in dire narrative of tragic love. 

Notching arrow of truth in bow of love, 
she fires intense trajectory of change 
across attentive hollow of lost time 
composed of history angels never share 
with borrowed words of honest travesty 
that threaten frail security of faith. 

Obsessive passion for relating truth, 
which should examine brutal hours of fear, 
writhes from locked archive of hungry hearts 
to crawl on wounded breast explicitly 
down centuries of manufactured lies, 
then lies in mystic ruins of half-burned books. 

Reductive code of illegible dreams 
still urges me to explore shadowed wood 
with twisted curiosity of tunes 
which unify disjointed claims of trees 
choosing to array both present and past 
through coexistence of ghosts in my brain. 

Inspired by stars she names with whispered voice, 
she chases echoes of misaligned thoughts, 
exposing lies of painters who despise 
false wholeness of virtual reality 
contrived to imitate national myths 
translating jokes from penitential cries. 

Hushed willows anchored in glow of weird eyes 
betray her safety with bold promises 
based on ruthless energy of contempt 
bound by urgent expectations we sell 
through coopted struggle of emptiness 
that leaves us stranded on cold roadless plain. 

Debased by facts of cruel modernity, 
our grandest university of truth 
decays from corporate comedy of greed 
though hearts beat rapidly with holy pride 
when anxious Orpheus pounds at the wall 
while chewing rotten alphabets of dreams. 

Limping Toward Heaven

Limping Toward Heaven
© Surazeus
2026 02 13

Reborn on Earth as Jesus Jupiter, 
assigned by Jove to guard the Holy Grail, 
I wear computer mask of Lucifer 
to play my role as prophet in Dream Tower 
who studies psychic riddle of Brain Flower 
while limping toward Heaven with Book of Ghosts. 

Still crazy after years of wandering woke 
on quest to find lost sword Excalibur, 
I give star-jeweled crown to Guinevere 
with pledge to maintain world democracy 
in holy crusade against tyranny 
while limping toward Heaven with Sword of Right. 

Awake from timeless dream as Sirius, 
startled by weird beauty of this strange world, 
I emerge from bottomless Well of Light 
to channel Sibyl Soul of Melusine 
so I can calculate when empires fall 
while limping toward Heaven with Scales of Truth. 

Alert with Wand of Zambor in my heart 
as Watcher in Tower of the God Eye, 
I find Rocket Boots that Charlemagne wore 
so I can fly with Wings of Icarus 
above sprawling cities of Zathamar 
while limping toward Heaven with Skull of God. 

Shocked by return of Satan on world stage 
disguised as presidents of super-states, 
I carry Lyre of Mercury with care 
to sing dire prophecies on city streets 
with Voice of Cassandra no one can hear 
while limping toward Heaven with Harp of Hope. 

Trained by Orpheus to lead refugees 
from war-torn lands to Elysian Fields, 
I ask shy Ophelia to marry me 
so she bakes large turkey and pumpkin pie 
when we celebrate Thanksgiving in Hell 
while limping toward Heaven with Horn of Fate. 

Reborn from Ishtar as Astarius, 
bright incarnation of the Morning Star, 
I rebuild Empire of Meroveus 
which I name for Mother Gothinia 
and rule from Fruit Garden of Scythia 
while limping toward Heaven with Bow of Faith. 

Planting apple seeds on lush river shores 
while riding Pegasus on Wings of Wind, 
I learn to build wheeled cart from Helius 
then drive west to Cave of Solaria 
with soul of Phoebus singing in my heart 
while limping toward Heaven through Maze of Myths. 

Jumping In Dream Book

Jumping In Dream Book
© Surazeus
2026 02 12

Jumping in dream book of innocent hope 
through oscillation of my dreaming brain, 
I weave complex tapestry of events 
to bind opposing forces of desire 
in tender fabric of outrageous faith 
that strengthens truth in land of Zathamar. 

Jumping in dream book of arrogant fear 
through fractal blooming of my wounded heart, 
I search dark caves of Hell for faceless ghost 
who understands how seeds sprout into trees 
so we can rebuild paradise of peace 
that brokers wealth in land of Zathamar. 

Jumping in dream book of obvious facts 
through research measuring ethereal breath, 
I float above world television tube 
with psychic humming of the Buddha Toad 
who teaches children how to chase rainbows 
that spiral home in land of Zathamar. 

Jumping in dream book of terrible truth 
through mead in cauldron that Cerridwen brews, 
I prophesy cycle of life and death 
for tyrant who proclaims himself world king 
so we celebrate his fall at glass tomb 
that crumbles lost in land of Zathamar. 

Jumping in dream book of mysterious myth 
through bleeding pages scratched with angel quills, 
I join crusade against cruel tyranny 
lead by hands of Justice and Liberty 
who reign on Pyramid of the God Eye 
that preserves peace in land of Zathamar. 

Jumping in dream book of addictive trust 
through transformation of Soul-Birthing Well, 
I marry daughter of Achilles Christ 
to found new dynasty of prophet-kings 
who nurture people in workshops and farms 
that market health in land of Zathamar. 

Jumping in dream book of confident song 
through vibrant strings on lyre of Mercury, 
I record epic of philosophers 
to glorify brave seekers of real truth 
who teach in Schools of Curiosity 
that foster growth in land of Zathamar. 

Jumping in dream book of infinite love 
through reincarnation again in flesh, 
I mutate forms four hundred million years 
from fish to wingless angel who asks why 
to preserve immortal soul of my genes 
that mirrors Self in land of Zathamar. 

Electric Scream Of Rain

Electric Scream Of Rain
© Surazeus
2026 02 12

When I wake in Museum of Lost Dreams, 
heart pounding with wild song of ocean waves, 
I greet faceless Spirit of Mother Light 
who teaches me how to translate my thoughts 
to tangled riddles of conceptual verse 
that swirl wings from electric scream of rain. 

Searching for love on Desolation Row, 
visions flashing in my glass brain of faith, 
I ask Ishtar with diamond eyes of hope 
for program code that helps me learn to cope 
with constant chaos of time-pulsing change 
when I dance with electric scream of rain. 

Alert for demons in Strawberry Fields, 
feet tense with lithe exertion of respect, 
I find the Carpenter building the Ark 
to save humankind from the coming flood 
of world wars that may destroy paradise 
who sail safe in electric scream of rain. 

Alone on new Bridge of Forgetfulness, 
hands reaching out to touch the sail-boat moon, 
I ask young Remus for lost map of dreams 
so I can find glass idol of Kwan Yin 
who offers me Holy Grail with peach juice 
so we kiss in electric scream of rain. 

Wandering nowhere in global Maze of Myths, 
eyes twinkling with ripe Apple of Zathar, 
I join Explorer on the signless road 
who knows how to cast tyrants from gold thrones 
and free humanity from mindless faith 
to sing psalms from electric scream of rain. 

Eating burger in Wingless Horse Cafe, 
tongue twisted by riddles of refugees, 
I help the Social Architect design 
political system with equal rights 
that ensures freedom and justice for all 
who are born from electric scream of rain. 

Browsing books in Library of Lost Tales, 
I play Creator who crafts Ideas of Things 
that formulate how our bodies evolve 
fish to lizard to mouse to cat to monkey 
to wingless angel striving to be God, 
dream-conscious in electric scream of rain. 

Awake in Empire of Zarathia, 
we build from ruins of America, 
I strum old Lyre of Mercury and sing 
epic poem on lives of philosophers 
who built foundation of our old world view 
they devised from electric scream of rain. 

Attentive Scope Of Faith

Attentive Scope Of Faith
© Surazeus
2026 02 11

These boots have tread lush hills of distant lands 
where strangers welcomed me with generous hands, 
and brought home lurid chunks of fertile soil 
to plump flourishing garden of my heart 
with sacred elements of ancient truth 
which nourish fruit trees of my paradise. 

This coat has flapped in winds of rugged hills 
where fairies teased me with conceptual tricks, 
and served as wings like those Icarus used 
to transcend narrow mindset of my tribe 
so I expand attentive scope of faith 
while mapping maze of myths with strict insight. 

This hat has sheltered my frail head from storm 
hurled by indifferent Nature without care, 
and shaded gaze of my observant eyes 
so I progress on sacred quest for truth 
that lead to cave of illusions in Hell 
where I retrieved bright diamond Eye of God. 

This pack has borne treasures of hopeful dreams 
which I have found in tombs of long-dead gods, 
so I display them in museum halls 
as records of our human quest for beauty 
for they bear spirits of creative minds 
long after their mortal craftsmen have died. 

This wand, that Zambor forged from meteor stone 
which blazed from haughty hand of Jupiter, 
provides emotional support through trust 
for my ascension on long winding road 
around snow-frosted Peak of Mount Takoma 
where Kwan Yin and Athena grant me visions. 

This book of tales, detailing human lives 
of every soul who ever lived on Earth, 
records grand epic deeds of mortal men 
as tragic heroes or romantic fools 
who battle tyrants in fraught game of power 
to maintain justice of wise Liberty. 

This tongue of eloquent expressiveness 
has sung elaborate tales of human deeds 
to praise the curious seekers of truth 
who built foundation of philosophy 
on which our world civilization thrives 
as efficient food-production machine. 

This brain of neurons woven from bright atoms, 
which has evolved four hundred million years, 
generates virtual model of our world 
programmed by my ancestral memories 
while we strive to transcend material form 
and become manifestation of God. 

Utility Network Of Truth

Utility Network Of Truth
© Surazeus
2026 02 11

Disrupted process of aligned concern 
outlines new golden way of psychic games 
for fools to achieve financial success 
by scamming people who labor all day 
in factories, restaurants, and offices 
to purchase timeshares for the Afterlife. 

Shocked beginning of our fragrant return 
provides expanded scope of fake world views 
for tourists to amusement park of Hell 
where they descend to lair of Beelzebub 
in brightly painted train on gleaming tracks 
so they can experience being refugees. 

Prim secretary in polka-dot skirt 
disburses funds to handless engineers 
busy designing new woke principles 
for everyone to follow in Dream Book 
compiled from code preserved on turtle shells 
so they can buy trucks and guns for the war. 

Startled horses on Seventh Avenue 
sell chocolate bars to businessmen and clerks 
who search for happiness in smoky bars 
till Jupiter rides by on white giraffe 
while throwing pamphlets to the cheering crowd 
with instructions to buy investment funds. 

Trapped in utility network of truth 
through tangled formulas of psychic lust, 
the haughty jester in black suit and tie 
steals language toolbox from the sleeping wizard, 
then runs into the wilderness of jokes 
to untwist meaning of obscure concepts. 

Assembled puzzle of random events 
presents global tapestry of mad kings 
who fight each other for the Crown of Thorns 
while pretty small-town girls seeking world fame 
dance with joy on broken power-line poles 
in solemn opera of the civil war. 

Disguised as tufts of grass with sparkling eyes, 
one hundred maidens with clay lamps of oil 
dance slowly in the football stadium 
while the haughty jester with angel wings 
sings in strange language no one understands 
about how empires fall from greed of kings. 

Woven in matrix of the God Mind, 
eight billion human beings on planet Zarth 
merge disparate religions in one world view 
so everybody plays by the same rules 
in never-ending game of breed and eat 
till light incinerates ideas of things.